The Siren
An Enchanting Tale
by Felicity Harper
Legal Bits & Pieces
The Siren is a work of fiction. All names, characters, organisations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
The author has asserted her moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 (United Kingdom) to be recognised and identified as the author of this work.
Copyright © 2017 Endeavours Partnership.
All rights reserved.
The Siren is published by Endeavours Partnership.
About Felicity Harper
Felicity Harper is an English author living in leafy Surrey in England, just a stone’s throw from Box Hill (for all you Austen fans!).
She is a huge fan of Jane Austen and all things Regency - apart from the icky reality of streets running in filth and the lack of indoor plumbing of course.
Felicity combined her love of sanitised Regency with a fondness for romanticised fairy tales (God bless you, Walt!) and so the Enchanting Tales series was born.
Please visit my website at felicityharper,com
Contents
About Felicity Harper
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Lavender – A Free Short Story
Felicity Harper’s Enchanting Tales
Masquerade
Chapter One
Keeping her distance, Ottilia followed her cousin through the forest.
She batted the kelp out of her way. The annoying fronds clung to her as though reluctant to let her pass. And this was why she hated plants, she thought irritably. Unlike Perfect Petra, Ottilia did not find plant life worthy of discussion, study or even mild curiosity. Eating it was acceptable, obviously, but that was as far as her interest went.
Today, though, Petra was not in the Kelp to look for new and interesting plant life. Instead, she swam through the immense forest without stopping and emerged on the other side. Once clear of the canopy, she powered upwards, away from the dark waters of the forest floor.
Looking up to the turquoise surface that roofed their world, Ottilia saw the shadow of a ship.
Ah hah! Just as she had suspected, her cousin did have her eye on a ship - and Ottilia had a feeling she knew exactly whose ship it would be too. There was no way to follow Petra to the surface without being seen so Ottilia bided her time and observed from below. Once she was sure of what her cousin was up to, she turned and hurried away in search of the King.
“I do wish you would cease with this silly rivalry, Ottilia,” the Queen complained, curling her immense tail around the base of the throne.
“It has nothing to do with that, Mother!” How typical: she might have known her parents would side with Petra!
The King loomed over his daughter. “Did you actually see her communicating with the ship?”
“Not exactly - but it was fairly obvious what she was doing up there.”
Her father regarded his wife with a quizzical frown. “I thought we had already dealt with all this nonsense.”
Queen Priscilla shook her head wearily. “As had I, my dear,” she sighed. “Ottilia, why is that everyone else manages to rub along quite nicely except you? Your poor cousin,” she continued, holding up her hand to forestall her daughter’s protests, “your poor cousin has not been so fortunate as you and yet you insist on making her feel as unwelcome as you can.”
“Mother! That is simply not true!”
“I fear we have spoilt this one,” the King said with a resigned air. “Her sisters never caused us any bother.”
To hear her father speak of her thus infuriated Ottilia. Of course her sisters hadn’t caused him any problems. They were all too bloody boring! she fumed. It seemed to her that the King and Queen were always ready to think the worst of her even when it wasn’t completely her fault. She didn’t allow her anger to show though. It wouldn’t do to seem petulant while she was trying to make her cousin look bad.
“Don’t either of you care that Petra is up there fraternising with a ship person?” She looked to her father, eyes wide in appeal. “Papa, it was you who wisely cautioned us against taking an interest in the humans. I vividly recall your sagacious advice upon catching my cousin and me when we were spying on the Manatee.”
Ottilia cupped her chin in thoughtful contemplation. “Correct me if I get the wording wrong but it went something like: ‘There - now neither of you witless nincompoops will see them again’ as you sent the ship and its men flying across the ocean at the mercy of a tremendous storm.”
“Wife!” King Titus boomed, turning an angry shade of red, “I have said it once and I will say it again! We should have stopped at seven!” Ottilia gasped but his words didn’t really hurt. She knew her father never meant it and he always made up for his outbursts with a gift of some sort.
“Ah, there she is!” the Queen trilled. “Petra, dear!”
“Yes Aunt?” Petra said, swimming gracefully into the throne room with an innocent look on her face. Ottilia narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“The King would like to ask you a question, dear.”
Petra faced her uncle and swirled her tail respectfully. “Your Majesty?”
“Come now, Petra, I have told you many times: you may call me Uncle Titus.”
Ottilia rolled her eyes. Couldn’t her father see that Petra was acting up just to flatter and fawn? Her cousin’s ploy was so obvious it was embarrassing.
Petra blushed prettily. “What is you wanted to ask me, Uncle Titus?”
The King clasped his hands behind his back and assumed a stern expression. “I would like you to tell me what you were doing above,” he demanded.
Petra glanced briefly in Ottilia’s direction, making it clear she knew exactly where this was coming from. “I had gone into the Kelp forest,” she explained. “I was looking for further evidence of a new plant species I believe might be growing there. I inadvertently wandered quite far from the Royal Compound when I looked up and saw the shadow of a ship.” She shrugged ruefully. “It’s my responsibility, as a Siren, to protect our territory so I swam up to ascertain that it had not encroached on us.”
“And had it?” the King asked.
“No, Uncle. The ship was further away than it looked from below.”
The King inclined his head. “Very well, Petra: you did the right thing.”
“Come now, Papa!” Ottilia protested. “Are you not going to enquire as to the ship’s name?”
“My apologies, cousin,” Petra said sweetly. “I cannot give that information as the ship was too far away.”
“How bloody convenient!” Ottilia cackled, realising, even as she did so, that she sounded a bit like a witch.
“Enough, Ottilia!” the King roared. “Now that we have cleared that up, you may both go.”
“But Papa!”
The King pinned his daughter with a fierce glare. “I said go.” His calm, controlled tone was more quelling than a bellow. Hurriedly, the two young Sirens took their leave.
“You can fool them, Petra, but you and I know exactly what you are up to,” Ottilia whispered angrily.
“Why are you so determined to hate me?”
“Because you pretend to be so perfect and good all the time. It sickens me!”
“Or maybe, Ottilia, I
am just trying to fit in,” Petra said and swam away.
Petra was trying to portray herself as the victim! It irritated Ottilia beyond measure. After all, it was Petra who had set everyone against her from the very moment she had arrived. No! She would not allow her cousin to steal from her all that was hers! She would have to prove Petra’s duplicitous nature once and for all.
Chapter Two
She waited until the Palace had grown quiet before venturing out. Slipping silently through the Royal compound’s cave system, Ottilia was careful to avoid the merman sentries. They wouldn’t stop her leaving, of course, but they would be quick to report back to her father that she had left.
The darkness of the ocean at night didn’t faze Ottilia but she would need to be cautious. It was the adjustment between the pitch blackness of the ocean floor and the Cimmerian darkness above that presented the most danger. For that very reason, it was strictly forbidden to venture into the Crepuscular Levels at night.
Once Ottilia reached open water, she began her ascent. She rose through the midnight zone and up into the warmer waters of The Above. It was here, where the light of the moon illuminated the ocean’s surface and cast it into bleary twilight, where a wily sailor might lay a trap. Keenly aware of the danger she might be in, Ottilia was careful to swim wide of the ship’s last position. She broke the water a good distance away and observed its gentle rocking. There were a few lamps burning and Ottilia could hear the quiet murmur of voices but, if she wanted to see whose ship it was, she would need to swim closer.
Slipping beneath the water, she swam around to the back of the ship and broke the surface. She kept close to the hull in case one of the sailors should look overboard and see her in the water. Moving slowly round the side of the ship, she searched for its nameplate. She knew it would have one: every ship she had ever seen had one. The Merpeople had quite the collection which they had salvaged over the years from the shipwrecks that littered the bottom of the sea.
And then she found it and triumphantly read the name aloud: the Manatee! Thrilled by her discovery, Ottilia unthinkingly flicked the water with her tail. There was a brief but audible splash.
“What was that?”
The quietly spoken words drifted down on the still air to where Ottilia, tucked tightly against the ship’s hull, had hidden herself. She was about to slip underwater and swim for home when she realised who had spoken. The Prince! The glow of the full moon illuminated his flaxen hair, casting him in a halo of celestial light. Oh sweet Prince! What sorrow troubles my heart that thou cannot be mine, Ottilia sighed.
The Prince, lost in thought, began to hum a song to himself and Ottilia nearly swooned with delight. Oh heavenly Prince! How your song pierces my soul! she thought longingly as she hummed along with him and delighted in the moment of shared melody.
And then she heard a splash!
“Oh snapper crackers!” she cursed, as she realised she had accidentally enthralled the Prince. A vicious wind blew up out of nowhere. The sudden squall whipped the sails and the broiling surf tossed the ship every which way. She could hear confused shouts on board as sailors dashed to haul in the sails and batten down the hatches. “Holy gods of the Oceans!” Ottilia cursed again. How could she have been so careless as to croon up a storm? Frantically, she searched the dark ocean, seeking the fair head of her beloved before he was lost to the deep forever.
“Man overboard!”
The cry galvanised her into action. The Prince would not last long in these cold waters. Ottilia dived beneath the waves. She could see the crown of the Prince’s golden hair sinking rapidly into the inky depths. Flicking her tail, she propelled herself downwards and snatched him into her arms. They broke the surface just as the end of a rope slapped the water beside them.
Ottilia pulled the Prince against her chest and squeezed the water from his lungs. He coughed, spluttered, then slumped against her. Another human, much bigger than the Prince, was rappelling down the rope. Time was running out! Careful not to enthral the entire ship, Ottilia sang softly into his ear, hoping the magical song of the Sirens would wake him before he was snatched away. Yet, try as she might, she could not contain her song. A trail of golden light drifted lazily through the moonlit waters to the Midnight sphere below and then on, deep into the Abyss. Soon, other Sirens would see her song and then she would be in big trouble.
Keeping her eyes fixed on the figure who was descending the ladder, Ottilia whispered urgently into her Prince’s ear. “Cease the dallying, handsome, and wake up!” She gave him a little shake for good measure but he slept on. It crossed her mind that the blood which was oozing from his head might have something to do with his insensible state but there was little she could do about that. Ottilia sighed. She was both flummoxed and irritated by the Prince’s lack of consciousness at this crucial turning point in their relationship. If only he would wake up and participate in this magical moment!
“Lower the lantern!” bellowed the man swinging at the end of the rope. “I can’t see a bloody thing down here!”
“On its way, Captain!”
Vexed in the extreme by the arrival of Captain, Ottilia had no choice but to let go of the Prince before she was spotted. She laid him out on the surface of the ocean and supported him from below to keep him from sinking below the waves. She felt a tug as Captain caught hold of the Prince’s shirt and began to pull him up out of the sea. She should have swum away at that moment but her irritation got the better of her and she flicked her tail and slapped Captain hard on his backside.
“What the hell?”
He looked over his shoulder just as Ottilia dived and sank out of sight as quickly as she could.
The men holding the rope pulled Gabe and Sebastian over the side of the ship where they sprawled in a wet heap on the deck.
“Is he alive, Captain?”
“Just about,” Gabe said, still panting with the effort it had taken to haul his cousin out of the heaving waves. Sebastian had been muttering something as they swung above the angry water but Gabe had not been able to make it out over the howling of the wind. Sebastian was lying still and quiet now and fresh blood was seeping from his wounds.
“Here, let me take him down to Stitches,” Arik bellowed and he slung Sebastian over his immense shoulder. Gabe relinquished his cousin to his Commander’s care and climbed wearily to his feet as the ship rolled drunkenly beneath him. “Did you see it, Jeb?” he asked reverently. “It just came out of nowhere!”
“Aye, Captain. She’s a capricious mistress is the ocean.” The old sea dog nodded sagely. In his long years aboard ship he had seen it all though, in truth, even he had been surprised by the suddenness of this squall.
Gabe stared out into the sea. “Did you see anything in the water when you swung the lantern down?”
“Apart from them sodding-great waves?” Jeb laughed hoarsely. “Did you have anything particular in mind, Captain?”
“I thought I saw a ….” Gabe grimaced - unsure himself what the hell it was he had seen … or thought he’d seen. “Something … in the water with Sebastian. Something silver - I think.” He shook his head as though trying to clear it of the image that had flashed before him. “I don’t know what it was but I swear it walloped me on the arse.”
Jeb’s bushy brows shot up into his hairline. “Are you thinking a sea monster, Captain?” He scratched his white thatch of hair. “I’ve heard of such creatures - something fierce they can be. Never heard of one goosing a fella though.”
Gabe left his elderly bosun guffawing to himself and went below to see how his cousin fared.
Her sister was waiting for her the second she entered the compound. “Ottilia!” Allegra snapped crossly, “Father wishes to see you in the Throne Room.”
“Did you tell?” Her sister, Allegra, was the only one of her sibling who was a Siren and could have heard the song. “Or was it you, Petra?” she asked angrily as she spotted her cousin in the shadows.
�
��It matters not who told on you, Ottilia. The point is, you broke the rules. Now, come!” And, without further discussion, Allegra escorted her younger sister to the Throne Room where their father, mother and a council of mermen and women were waiting for her.
“Uh oh!” Ottilia muttered. Her sister nodded her head ruefully.
“It’s really not a good idea to break a Cardinal rule while a council meeting is taking place, Tilly.”
The King spotted his youngest daughter and gestured for her to approach. Allegra retreated discreetly as Ottilia swished to the centre of the council cave.
“Father, I …”
Te King held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear any excuses or flim-flam, daughter,” he said ominously. “I want to hear what you were doing in the Above at night.”
All eyes were on Princess Ottilia as the Councillors waited for the King’s daughter to give an accounting of her actions. Ottilia looked appealingly to her Mother, who returned her look with an exasperated, but not unsympathetic, sigh.
Perhaps all was not lost, Ottilia considered, and decided on the truth. She set her bottom lip to trembling and blinked a single glistening tear from her eye. When in doubt, Ottilia, her sisters and, indeed, their mother relied on the King’s aversion to female tears in order to get their own way.
“Dearest Father …” she paused to sniff pitifully. “I-I think, first of all, you should know that I love him.”
King Titus expelled an impatient breath. “What is she talking about?” he asked, directing the question at his wife. Queen Priscilla swam over to her daughter and placed a comforting arm on Ottilia’s shoulder. “This had better be good,” she whispered.
“Mother, Father: I think you should know that I’m in love. With a Prince.”
The Siren Page 1