The Mermaid's Madness

by Hines, Jim C.

  Danielle pried the note from Snow’s hand and held it to the light of Snow’s choker. “She says to meet her in the chapel when you wake up.”

  “That’s another thing! She put me to sleep!”

  Danielle glanced back, but neither Jakob nor Armand had stirred. Taking Snow by the hand, she dragged her out into the hallway and shut the door. “She should have made you sleep longer. You’re grumpy.”

  Snow drew herself up. “I am not! I’m trying to save Beatrice’s life.”

  “So am I.” Danielle waited a heartbeat, watching Snow’s eyes narrow with suspicion. “Talia took the knife because I told her to.”

  “I told you I could—”

  “You were exhausted,” Danielle said. “You’re still hurt. I’m amazed you made it up that ladder.”

  “I stopped to rest a lot,” Snow admitted. She snatched the note back and crumpled it into a pouch on her belt. “Where did she go?”

  “To get Morveren.” Danielle peeked back into the room while Snow fumed. Armand and Jakob were both still asleep. “Wait here.”

  She stepped inside and dressed as hastily as she could, while Snow fumed.

  “I’ll get her for this,” Snow was muttering when Danielle returned. “The next time she smokes that pipe of hers, I’m changing it into a newt.”

  “Aren’t you the one who used magic on Talia to get that knife in the first place?” Danielle asked.

  “That’s right, tease the cranky sorceress. Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook either. It’s going to be newts for everyone.”

  Danielle fastened the clasp of her cloak as they walked outside. Dew covered the grass of the courtyard. She waved to the gardener, who was already up and pulling slugs from the young shoots.

  “Slugs might work, too,” Snow said thoughtfully.

  “Tell me the truth. Could you even read those books you had out, or were you too exhausted?”

  Snow stuck out her tongue.

  Incense made Danielle’s eyes water as she stepped into the chapel. She spotted Talia at the front of the church. Beside her, Morveren rested on the steps which led up to the altar. Lannadae was here as well, curled up next to her grandmother.

  “She shouldn’t be here with Queen Bea,” said Snow.

  “Father Isaac agreed it was safe.” Talia pointed to one of the incense burners. “The potion should work on undine as well as humans, so she can’t use her magic against us. This place is as safe as her prison on the Phillipa . Safer, really. Even if she tried to escape, where is she going to go?”

  Danielle frowned. There was a fresh bandage on one of Morveren’s tails. “What did it take to persuade her?”

  “Talia and I have already spoken of her ‘persuasion, ’ ” said Father Isaac, emerging from the vestibule at the back of the chapel. He carried Lirea’s knife in both hands. “While I can understand her urgency, I fear her passion will lead her down dark paths.”

  “You have no idea,” said Talia.

  Snow stomped through the church and snatched the knife before whirling on Talia. “How did you trick me into falling asleep, anyway? I don’t remember drinking anything.”

  “Magic.” Talia waved her fingers. “Now sit down. If you’re going to break Morveren’s spells, you need to know the truth about what she tried to do.”

  Danielle walked slowly through the palace, Armand at her side. She was still trying to process everything Talia had shared. How many people had died because of Morveren’s quest to “improve” her race? “Do you believe her? That the undine have no souls?”

  Armand shrugged. “There are some who say the same of the fairy folk. I’m told there was a time women were thought to be soulless as well, and children weren’t named or accepted as human until their fourth birthday.”

  “But Morveren’s magic lets her manipulate souls. Wouldn’t she know the truth?”

  “Perhaps,” he admitted. “Or perhaps the undine are simply different.”

  They had just reached the kitchen when a page came running. “Princess Whiteshore,” he gasped. “Captain Varisto demands you meet with him.”

  “Thank you, Fenton.” Danielle stared longingly through the kitchen door, inhaling the smell of fresh-baked bread and cinnamon. “I suppose I should be grateful he waited this long.”

  “I’ll grab something for you,” Armand promised. “You go get ready.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Armand’s eyebrow quirked. “You’re going to be meeting with a prince of Hilad. You might want to run a brush through that hair, and maybe even grab that crown you love so much.”

  Danielle groaned and turned back toward her room.

  Two handmaidens were already waiting when she arrived. Before she could protest, they began stuffing her into a formal forest green gown, cinching the waist tightly enough to interfere with her breathing.

  “What have you done to yourself?” asked the older girl, Aimee. She grabbed a hank of Danielle’s hair and tugged a comb through the ends. “Did you spend your entire time at sea standing in the wind, just to make our jobs more difficult?”

  Danielle grimaced, but didn’t struggle. She had learned a long time ago that fighting only made it worse. “If I’d had to endure this to attend the ball, I think I would have left Armand to my stepsisters.”

  The other girl, Sandra, pressed a hand to her mouth to cover a giggle. She turned away to pull out a drawer at the base of the wardrobe, retrieving a pair of glass slippers.

  Danielle shook her head hard enough to yank the comb from Aimee’s hands. “I haven’t been able to fit into those since before I had Jakob.”

  Armand returned a while later, bearing a cinnamon-topped pastry in one hand. He pressed it into Danielle’s hand, then retrieved her sword from beside the bed where she had left it the night before.

  “Bless you,” Danielle said, taking an enormous bite of the pastry. Armand stepped around behind her, strapping the sword belt to her waist despite Aimee’s protests.

  “She’s meeting a Hiladi prince,” Armand said. “If she goes unarmed, he’ll believe her weak. Given that they’ve already faced one another in battle, he’ll likely take it as an insult.” He stepped back and gave Danielle an appraising look. “You shouldn’t need to use it, as long as you refrain from any further insults. But carrying a weapon means you respect him as a threat.”

  Aimee stood on her toes to set Danielle’s crown onto her brow. The braided circlet of silver and gold was heavier than it looked. The metal felt cold against her forehead. She closed her eyes as Sandra dabbed an eye-watering scent onto her neck.

  “How did he find out about our . . . visit to Hilad?” she asked.

  Armand shook his head. “I don’t see how the undine could have reached him so quickly, and I can’t imagine he sailed close enough to spy on you. Not without Hephyra noticing. That woman has eyes like a hawk.”

  “I’ve never seen eyes so green,” Danielle said.

  Armand snorted. “You should see her in the fall. They change with the seasons, turning the most amazing shade of hazel.”

  Danielle stood as her handmaidens adjusted her hair, her gown, and even tugged her sword belt around so the hilt rested at a more attractive, if less practical angle. “The gem in the pommel doesn’t really match the gown,” Aimee said. “Sandra, get the ocean-blue gown with the gold—”

  “Don’t make me use this,” Danielle said, laying a hand on her sword.

  Armand smiled and offered an arm. “Are you ready?”

  Danielle’s throat went dry as it sank in. She was about to meet with a foreign prince. A prince who had the might of the Hiladi Empire behind him. A single misspoken word and history would remember Cinderella not as a filthy girl who won a prince but as a foolish princess who helped plunge Lorindar into war. “Is it all right if I throw up first?”

  He lowered his voice. “The first time my father presented me at court, I was so nervous I forgot to relieve myself beforehand. By the time I was introduced to the last ba
ron, it was a miracle I wasn’t standing in a puddle.”

  “Are you sure you or the king wouldn’t be better off—”

  “My father has enough to worry about.”

  “Of course,” Danielle said, guilt rushing through her. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’d talk to Varisto if I could.” Armand shook his head. “His grievance is with you. I’ll be there, but you have to face him.” He led her toward the door. “He’s waiting in the courtyard, by the fountain.”

  Danielle spent the entire walk trying to plan her responses to Varisto’s accusations. He was the one who had attacked the Phillipa without warning. Her words on the docks might have been impetuous, but she refused to apologize for worrying about Beatrice.

  As they walked through the halls, Armand cleared his throat and whispered, “If you’re not going to eat that . . .” He reached toward Danielle.

  Danielle looked down at the forgotten pastry in her hand. She took another bite, then held it protectively to her chest, out of her husband’s reach. His playful grab missed, but it was enough to make her smile. She was still licking crumbs from her hand when they reached the courtyard.

  Captain Varisto was easy to spot, thanks to his red sash. He stood with Ambassador Trittibar at the fountain in the courtyard, a large circular basin resting on a square pedestal. In the center of the basin, water trickled from four figures carved from a single pillar of white stone. On one side, water dribbled from a wizard’s pipe. On another, a slender dragon breathed water from his nostrils. As Danielle approached, she could hear Trittibar explaining the fountain’s history in painful detail.

  “The figure who stands atop the pedestal is Malindar himself, who forced my people into a treaty with the humans,” Trittibar said. “This was carved nearly a hundred years ago by a gnome named Rigglesnip. It was a gift to the humans, though you can tell Rigglesnip wasn’t happy about the assignment. He made Malindar’s nose too big, and concealed extra pipes within his statue. This wasn’t discovered for several years. After a heavy enough rain, that water will spray from Malindar’s nostrils as well. Now over here we have the dragon Nolobraun, who—”

  “Prince Armand!” Varisto’s relief was plain as he hurried away from Trittibar.

  “I apologize for the interruption.” Neither Armand’s expression nor his tone betrayed his amusement. “We can come back at another time if you wish to continue your conversation.”

  “No!” Varisto stiffened and turned his attention to Danielle. “No, I have waited long enough.” His eyes took in the sword at Danielle’s side. He too was armed, carrying a spiked ax through his belt. “You captured Morveren, a feat I have failed to do. I know your dark-skinned friend smuggled her here last night. I will overlook your attack on Lirea in exchange for Morveren. This is my final offer, Highness.”

  Without thinking, Danielle said, “I’m sorry for your loss, Prince Varisto.”

  Varisto started to respond, then cocked his head. “What?”

  “I had no brothers or sisters.” This wasn’t what she had planned. She hesitated, feeling exposed. But how much more exposed must Varisto feel, alone in the palace and surrounded by strangers? “My stepsisters were . . . not the kind of family I had hoped for. I know you cared for your brother. To lose him must have been painful, and I offer my condolences.”

  This obviously wasn’t what Varisto had expected. He stared at her. “Thank you for your words, Your Highness. If you would also offer his killer, I would be indebted to you.”

  “When your brother lay dying, if there was one who could have saved him, would you have sent that one away?” Danielle folded her arms. “Beatrice is more than my queen. She’s my friend and my family. Should I let her die so you can have your vengeance?”

  Varisto started to speak, then shook his head. His shoulders sank, and his voice softened. “No. But after, then. When Morveren has worked her magic. You will give her to me then.”

  Danielle looked at Trittibar, standing behind Varisto. Trittibar’s face was sympathetic. Ever so slightly, he shook his head no.

  “I captured Morveren, as you said.” Danielle swallowed and hoped this was the right response. “I promise she will be punished for what she’s done, both to Lirea and to your brother. That’s the most I can offer you.”

  Varisto’s hand moved toward his ax, and his face clouded. “You expect me to accept a woman’s idea of justice?”

  “I expect you to remember you are a guest of Lorindar,” Danielle said, fighting to keep her voice steady. This was more than simply standing up to her stepsisters. She spoke for an entire nation. “Remember also that men died when you joined Lirea’s war and attacked our ship. Do their souls deserve justice as well, Prince Varisto?”

  He bowed slightly. “I loved my brother, Princess. I would give my own life if I could bring him back.”

  “Some of those men had brothers, too.”

  “I . . . I know.” For a moment, his facade slipped and Danielle saw not a Hiladi prince but a young man struggling against his own doubts. “But I took a vow to protect Gustan’s wife.”

  Across the courtyard, Danielle spotted Talia leaving the chapel. Danielle tensed, but Talia was moving with her normal purposeful stride. If something was wrong, she would be running. She turned back to Varisto. The man’s arrogance annoyed her, and she couldn’t forgive the deaths of her people, but the pain on his face was genuine. Her instincts told her he deserved the truth. Praying she wasn’t making a mistake, she said, “Varisto . . . your brother never married Lirea.”

  Trittibar stepped forward. “Perhaps this isn’t the time for such matters, Princess.”

  “I’ve seen his air spirits come to Lirea’s aid,” said Varisto.

  Danielle shook her head. “Gustan was a prince of Hilad. Do you believe he would have risked his future to wed a mermaid? Would your people ever have accepted her as their queen?”

  “I wouldn’t have believed, but I was wrong.” Varisto gripped his ax. Both Armand and Trittibar tensed, but Varisto didn’t try to draw the weapon. “I thought he was only—I misjudged him.”

  Danielle watched his face, the way he stared at the earth as he spoke. This was guilt as much as grief. “You thought he was using her. You know how he treated her, don’t you?” Danielle thought back to what Lannadae had told them. “That’s why you argued with him about Lirea.”

  “He liked to fight, to prove himself stronger than all others. There were times in our youth when he would beat me for some unintentional slight,” Varisto said, his gaze distant. “Lirea was a pleasant child, but she didn’t know our ways. Her words were often impertinent or disrespectful. I told him—” He stiffened, and then he was a prince once more, calm and formal. “These matters are none of your concern, Princess.”

  “The air spirits don’t obey Lirea.” Danielle could see Trittibar’s apprehension. Even Armand appeared tense. Varisto was young, angry, and unpredictable. But he was also Gustan’s brother. It was wrong to keep this from him. “They obey Gustan.”

  Varisto whirled to face Armand. “What is she saying?”

  “Morveren created that knife to trap your brother’s soul,” Danielle said. “To bind him to Lirea. It’s through that bond that the spirits follow her will. That same knife now holds our queen as well. We entered Hilad in order to retrieve that knife and save Queen Beatrice.”

  “You lie.” He drew his ax.

  Danielle started to grab her own weapon, but that would only guarantee a fight. Instead, she folded her arms and said, “I trust you have more honor than to attack a defenseless opponent, Prince Varisto.”

  “Think, boy,” said Trittibar, circling Varisto. “You stand alone in Whiteshore Palace.”

  “He’s my brother.” Varisto’s voice shook.

  Talia stepped past Danielle, her stance low as she moved inside Varisto’s reach. Danielle hadn’t even realized she was there.

  Talia drove her fingers into Varisto’s wrist and the ax dropped to the ground. He grabbed for her, but Ta
lia moved too quickly. Danielle saw her fingers jab the soft flesh beneath Varisto’s chin, and then she was spinning, one leg sweeping the prince’s legs. Varisto slammed to the ground.

  “And she’s my princess,” Talia said, kicking his ax away. “I’ll thank you to leave her in one piece.”

  “Talia, please.” Danielle beckoned Talia back.

  “You tell me Morveren stole my brother’s soul, yet you protect her.” Varisto sat up, twisting his sash in his hands. “I know the knife you speak of. I’ve seen it many times. To think my brother’s spirit was within my reach, and I never—

  “You couldn’t have known.” Danielle knelt beside Varisto. “I’m sorry for your loss, Varisto. Nothing we do can bring Gustan back. But we can free him, and I can give you the chance to say good-bye.”

  CHAPTER 14

  THE WORST PART ABOUT BEING FORCED to work with Morveren was that deep down, a part of Snow was enjoying it.

  They sat on the floor near the front of the chapel, while Talia watched from the altar like an angry, well-armed hawk. Even with Father Isaac’s protections, Talia looked like she would cut Morveren’s throat at the slightest threatening sound. But Morveren had barely spoken, save to instruct Snow as they crafted a new soul trap.

  Snow still hadn’t forgiven Talia. They hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to one another, but Talia’s cockeyed smirk said it all. Now we’re even.

  Maybe so.There would still be newts and slugs aplenty when this was over. But Snow’s anger soon gave way to fascination as she watched Morveren work.

  Morveren’s skill surpassed even that of Snow’s mother, though her power was less. Morveren reminded her of a scrimshaw artist who had once carved a portrait of her mother in whalebone. His knife had moved in small, careful strokes, each one following the next with no hesitation. Morveren displayed that same care as she set one hair after another over the mouth of a golden chalice, fixing each one in place with a bead of white wax.