“How should I know?” Talia rolled up her knitting and jabbed the needles into the skein. “Is there news from upstairs?”
“Nothing good.” Danielle sat down next to Talia and watched as Snow flipped through another book, turning pages roughly enough to tear the paper. “King Theodore asked me to join him in the throne room. They’ve brought out the crystal, and he’s been meeting with other rulers to discuss what we’ve learned.”
Talia nodded. The crystal was a polished sphere the size of a human skull, enchanted to allow the king to communicate with the lords of other nations, as well as his own nobles. “What did they say?”
“It was hard to hear over all of the shouting,” she said ruefully. “They weren’t happy to hear about Hilad’s involvement with Lirea. Lyskar is ready to declare war.”
That made sense. Lyskar hadn’t suffered as personally as Lorindar, but they had still lost ships to the undine.
“Lyskar paid Lirea’s tribe for free passage three days ago,” Danielle said. “Now they’re demanding repayment from Hilad, both for the ransom and the damage to their fleet.”
Talia snorted. “The Hiladi must have loved that.”
“They’d probably be sending warships after one another if Theodore hadn’t calmed them down.” Danielle absently rubbed at a stain in the carpet with her thumbnail. “Lord Montgomery is rallying some of our nobles, trying to pressure the king into joining Lyskar against Hilad.”
“Ask if he’ll be the one to lead the attack,” Talia said. “That should shut him up.”
“It’s not just the nobles, Talia. The merchants have been raising their prices. The cost of food has doubled in the past week. If shipping doesn’t resume soon, the people could riot.”
“The undine are all busy breeding.” Talia pulled out one of the needles and twirled it in her fingers. “What are they so afraid of?”
“Most of them are breeding,” Danielle said. “They’ve still hit three more of our ships, including one down in Emrildale that was still docked. We’ve heard similar reports from Morova and Najarin. Mostly the elder undine and the very young, but once the undine finish spawning—”
“It’s going to get worse,” Talia finished. Theodore had to know what was coming if Lirea wasn’t stopped. Fighting between Hilad and Lyskar would only make it easier for Lirea to destroy them all.
“I know,” Danielle whispered.
Talia didn’t envy Danielle her time upstairs. Talia wouldn’t have lasted a single hour in a room full of angry, frightened nobles before breaking someone’s nose. “What does he intend to do?”
The answer confirmed her expectations. “Nobody wants war, but we have a better chance against Hilad than we do against the undine. Theodore will be taking the crystal to his chambers. He means to talk to the Hiladi emperor alone about an attack against Lirea’s tribe. We know where she is, and Hilad isn’t the power it once was. If Hilad finds itself at war against both Lorindar and Lyskar . . .”
“What about holding Varisto hostage?” Talia suggested.
Danielle looked shocked. “And do what? Cut his throat if the empire refuses to help us?”
Talia sighed. Danielle was so naive. “The threat might be enough to ensure their cooperation.”
Danielle looked over at Snow. “The only other choice is to stop Lirea now. There are some who feel we should destroy the knife, even if it means letting Bea die.”
“I’m impressed someone had the courage to suggest—”
“Montgomery didn’t get the chance to finish his suggestion.” Danielle shrugged. “I’m afraid my response wasn’t very princesslike. I excused myself shortly after.”
“Snow will figure this out,” Talia said. “Once she has, we can destroy the knife. That should take care of Lirea, right? Snow might need a few more days, but—”
“Every day is another chance for Lirea to move her tribe elsewhere.” Danielle lowered her voice. “We should bring Morveren to the palace.”
“No!” Snow rubbed her eyes as she turned away from the mirror.
“Morveren might still be willing to help you,” Danielle said.
“She might also be willing to cut my throat and steal the knife for herself,” Snow said, grabbing another book.
Talia shook her head. “Not with me here she won’t.”
“You don’t understand. What Morveren did to Lirea . . . it would have been kinder to let her die. And her magic, the way the knife feeds off of souls. I think it’s more than just the knife.”
“What do you mean?” Danielle asked.
Snow picked up a green jar. “Morveren was too weak to escape her island. She needed my help to fight her own defenses. But afterward, she was stronger. Because she had a chance to feed.”
Even from here, Talia could see the guilt in Snow’s eyes. Snow had gone down to Morveren’s home, but hadn’t realized what the mermaid was really doing there.
Danielle stood and walked to Snow, looking down at the knife and the books. “How long will it take you to free Beatrice?”
“I can do this,” Snow insisted. She spun back to her mirror, knocking one of her books to the floor. The jar would have fallen if Danielle hadn’t grabbed it. “If people would just shut up and let me work.”
“All right.” Danielle backed away and glanced at Talia before leaving. Talia stood to follow.
Danielle waited for her inside the armory. “Snow’s exhausted. If she keeps working like this, she’s more likely to hurt herself than to save Bea.”
Talia couldn’t argue. “If we bring Morveren here, we don’t know what she’ll do.”
“We need her.” Danielle glanced away, her gaze distant.
“You couldn’t have known Morveren would turn against us,” Talia said, guessing at Danielle’s thoughts. “What happened to James and the others isn’t your fault.”
“But it is my responsibility,” Danielle said. “That’s what it means to be a princess, right?”
Talia didn’t answer.
“Can you keep Morveren under control?”
That earned a smile. “I’ll fetch a scaling knife on the way down.”
“Don’t hurt her if you don’t have to.” Danielle peeked through the archway. “I don’t suppose I could just command Snow to take a break.”
“Allow me.” Talia walked silently to the mirror. Once there, she reached out and began to comb Snow’s hair back with her fingers, being careful not to disturb the bandage. Snow’s hair smelled like chrysanthemums, one of the scents Snow mixed herself. This one was sweeter than usual, with the faint scent of honey blended into the floral smell.
Talia moved her hands to Snow’s shoulders, kneading the knotted muscles. Her thumbs moved up the base of Snow’s neck.
Snow gasped as Talia pressed down on a particularly stubborn knot. “The spells in the knife weren’t meant to last this long,” Snow mumbled. “The knife was a stopgap to keep her alive.”
“What does that mean?” Talia asked, moving her hands down to work the muscles between Snow’s shoulder blades. Snow groaned and lay her head down on the mirror. The bandage was still white, which meant Snow’s bleeding had stopped. That was a good sign.
“Don’t know,” Snow said. “Gustan was just a component in her spell. But Lirea fought back. Morveren didn’t expect that.”
“Like she fought back when we stole the knife.”
“She’s strong. Morveren must have been mad when Lirea wasn’t interested in learning magic.” Snow yawned. “Morveren’s a good teacher. How can such a bad person be a good teacher?”
“When I tried to teach you swordfighting, you said I was an awful teacher.”
Snow giggled. “You are. You’re too impatient, and you’re always showing off.”
Talia’s face grew warm. She rarely showed off her fairy gifts, but with Snow . . . “Well, you’re not much of a student sometimes. Do you remember when you refused to pick up a sword for a full week because the practice jacket was ‘too unflattering’?”
The only answer was a low snore. “Believe me,” Talia whispered. “That jacket was plenty flattering.”
Danielle crossed the room to retrieve the knife from Snow’s mirror. “I’ll deliver this to Father Isaac for now.”
Talia grabbed quill and paper and scrawled a quick note. “And where will you be?”
Danielle groaned and looked upward. “Upstairs, trying to help Theodore avoid a war.”
Talia was stopped only once on her way out of the palace. She sighed, feigning annoyance as she explained that the princess had forgotten something on the ship, and of course she needed it fetched right now. Soon she was riding a horse and wagon down the road toward the docks.
The ride seemed to take forever, though the moon had barely moved by the time Talia arrived. The same excuse got her past the harbormaster’s man, who was understandably curious why a lone rider needed to reach the queen’s ship at this time of night.
Talia hailed the Phillipa, and was unsurprised when Captain Hephyra answered. As far as Talia could tell, Hephyra slept almost as infrequently as Talia herself.
“Nice to see you again,” Hephyra called. “Shall I send a boat?”
“No need.” Talia kicked off her sandals and dove from the end of the dock. By the time she reached the ship, Hephyra had already lowered a line into the water. She hauled Talia up as though she weighed nothing at all.
“Come to take me up on my offer?” Hephyra asked.
“Not today.” Talia squeezed water from her hair. “I need to borrow one of your guests.”
“Take them both,” said Hephyra, her annoyance obvious. “The crew will be happy to see them gone. They’re down in the hold. Before she left, your friend Snow rigged a circle to keep Morveren from using her magic. Nearly killed herself from the effort, but it seems to have worked.”
“Thank you.” Talia clenched her jaw and crossed the deck toward the ladders.
“Want an escort?” Hephyra asked.
Talia dipped into the pouch at her waist and pulled out a ball of beeswax. She squeezed off two small pieces, pressing them into her ears. “No thanks.”
The air grew cool as Talia descended to the bottom of the ship. The boards creaked beneath her feet. Below this deck, rocks and soil provided ballast for the Phillipa . The air smelled like a farmer’s field after a heavy spring rain.
Talia wrinkled her nose. A heavily fertilized field.
Her bare feet splashed through puddles. Crates and barrels were secured to either side, creating a dark, cramped hallway of sorts. A single lantern burned farther along, hung from the central beam.
Talia ducked her head and made her way past extra rope, provisions for the crew, and several barrels that smelled of tar. Morveren sat at the rear, where the mizzenmast was secured through the decks all the way down to the keel. Chains bound Morveren to the mast. Through the puddles, Talia could see faint scratches in the floor where Snow had cast her spell.
Lannadae lay in the circle beside her grandmother, both tails curled against Morveren’s. Lannadae was asleep, but Morveren’s eyes watched Talia as she approached.
“I need you to help free Beatrice from that knife,” Talia said.
One of Morveren’s tails slapped the deck. “I should save your queen when you couldn’t save my granddaughter?”
“Lirea didn’t seem interested in being saved.” Talia sat down on a crate. “But that didn’t stop you, did it?”
“I gave her what she wanted.”
Talia drew the curved knife Beatrice had given her all those years ago. “You used magic to force your granddaughter to kill Gustan. That makes you a murderer. If you prefer not to help us, I’d be happy to turn you over to Captain Varisto. He’s wanted to get his hands on you for quite some time.” Talia turned the knife, testing the point. “I imagine he’d be even more upset if he learned what you’d done to his brother’s soul.”
“Is that true?” Lannadae was awake now, her eyes wide. “You forced Lirea to kill Gustan?”
“Would you rather I let her die?” Morveren snapped. “Gustan was a cruel man, and he deserved far worse.”
“But Lirea loved him,” Lannadae protested.
“Lirea will die if you don’t help us,” Talia said. “If Snow can’t free Beatrice, they mean to destroy the knife.”
“You can’t!” Morveren pulled against the chains. “She’s queen of the undine. Through Lirea, we will restore what we once were and take our rightful place in your world.”
Talia leaned against a barrel, trying to read Morveren’s expression. Her gills were open, exposing the red lines along her neck. The fins on the side of her tails kept opening and snapping flat again. “You wanted Lirea to lead the undine to war.”
Morveren didn’t answer.
“Why would you do that?” Lannadae backed away. “I don’t understand.”
Morveren closed her eyes. “I see no reason to explain myself to a child and a human servant.”
Talia stabbed the knife into the barrel. “I am Princess Talia Malak-el-Dahshat.” Merely stating her true name brought back memories of her childhood. Her chin rose, and her hands came together in preparation for the ritual bow. She could almost hear her mother chastising her for venturing out with her hair unbraided, like a common harlot. “You will explain, and you will help my friend, or I will finish what Lirea began with your tails.”
“You’re a princess too?” breathed Lannadae. “Really?”
“Princess or no, you have no authority over me,” said Morveren.
Talia pulled her knife free and flicked it at Morveren. It thudded through one of her fins, pinning it to the deck.
Morveren squealed. The sound made Talia flinch, but if there was any magic to the sound, Snow’s circle and the plugs in Talia’s ears blocked it. Talia had aimed for one of the smaller fins near the end of her left tail. There didn’t seem to be any blood, but the wound obviously hurt. Morveren grabbed the knife with both hands, trying to work it free.
“I have more knives,” Talia said. “Explain yourself, mermaid. Lirea asked to be human. You twisted her into something else.”
“She can’t be human.” Morveren gave up on the knife and sagged backward. “None of us can.”
“Why not?”
“To be human requires a soul.”
Lannadae grabbed Morveren’s arm. “Grandmother, you can’t believe those horrible tales.”
Morveren slapped Lannadae’s hand. “They’re more than tales, you silly child. We were created incomplete. More animal than human. I’ve studied souls for two centuries. You could stab Lirea’s abalone blade into my chest, and it would kill me as dead as anyone else, but I would not join Gustan and your queen. Nothing of our people survives beyond our death. We are monstrosities, formed of seafoam and magic, but we can be more. Through Lirea.”
There was an intensity to her words that made Talia take a step back. If not for Snow’s circle, she would have believed Morveren’s words carried magic. “So you wanted to give Lirea a soul. Gustan’s soul.”
“Not only Lirea,” Morveren said, lunging forward until her chains and the knife in her fin stopped her. “Her children. And her children’s children. A new line of undine, one with the ability to live on land or sea. She will unite the tribes and save our race.”
“And her war against humans?” Talia asked.
“That was unplanned,” Morveren admitted. “Gustan was both aggressive and ambitious. Traits Lirea needed. That’s one of the reasons I pushed them together. I suspect it’s his influence turning her against the humans.”
Trying to reclaim the glory of the Hiladi Empire, Talia guessed. If not for Beatrice, she would have killed Morveren right then.
Lannadae was shaking. “No wonder Lirea hates me. She thinks I helped you to murder Gustan.”
“You didn’t know.” Talia crouched in front of Morveren. “Tell me about the storm that drove Gustan’s ship against the rocks.”
“I was stronger back then. I managed to influence his
pet spirits long enough to arrange matters.” Morveren lay back. “I don’t care about your people. Give me the knife. Let me complete my work and save my granddaughter. I’ll make sure she leaves Lorindar in peace.”
“That’s why Snow said the magic in the knife was incomplete.” Talia reached down to tug the knife loose. “Killing Gustan trapped his soul and sustained Lirea, but you weren’t finished. You need to force that soul into her body.”
“I can save your queen and my granddaughter both.”
“I have a better idea. You’ll help Snow to save Beatrice, and then I’ll let Danielle decide whether or not to let you live.”
Morveren spat. “Why should I agree to that?”
Without looking, Talia sent the knife into the meat of Morveren’s tail, near the stump. Morveren’s scream hurt her ears even through the beeswax. Raising her voice, Talia said, “Because Danielle has an overblown streak of mercy, whereas I take a very dark view of people using magic to ‘improve’ their children.”
“My people will remember you as a devil,” Morveren said, clutching her tail. “One who damned us all.”
Talia’s smile was cold enough to make both mermaids flinch. “I’ve been called worse. And anything has to be better than that silly Sleeping Beauty tale.”
Tiny feet dug into Danielle’s ribs. She groaned and rolled over, trying to make room for a child who, despite his size, had somehow managed to claim well over half the bed for himself. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, balancing on the edge of the mattress. Armand lay on the opposite side, his position equally precarious. Danielle dimly remembered carrying Jakob into the room late last night, but she couldn’t recall when Armand had finally come to bed.
Sleep was a losing battle, but she tried again. Moments later, she heard the privy door creaking open. “She stole it!”
The indignation in Snow’s voice brought Danielle fully awake. Stifling a yawn, she climbed out of bed and crossed to the doorway. “What?”
“The knife. Talia took it.” Snow waved a crumpled piece of paper in Danielle’s face. Her clothes were rumpled. She hadn’t even taken the time to change before coming to see Danielle. Her eyes were shadowed, and she still tended to squint.
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