Swim

by M. E. Rhines

  The room she offered for my stay spanned the entire backside of the castle. More than adequate, the size was nearly double that of my room in Atargatis. Sparsely furnished, only a small table stood beside a jetted bedrock in the center. Behind it, a balcony provided a stunning view of the floral gardens far below and chunks of ice floating by above.

  “I’m sorry it’s so empty,” she added. “We don’t have visitors often enough to warrant the resources it would take to furnish it further.”

  “It’ll do just fine,” I assured her.

  “If I may be so bold?”

  “Yes? Speak up, please. I won’t steal your tongue.”

  She blushed, then hurried to continue. “I know you told Sir Lennox you’d rather wait up here until tomorrow, but if you get hungry, we do have a dining hall downstairs. If you don’t wish to eat with the others, I’d be happy to bring you something.”

  “That’s very nice of you, thank you.”

  “They don’t offer much to satisfy, I’m afraid. Mostly scavenged bait from the local fishermen. Some chum, if you’d prefer.”

  My stomach roiled, my mouth filling with bile. I swallowed it down with a loud gulp and scrunched my nose. “Perhaps I should wait until I get back to Atargatis to eat. Leave the Finfolk what little they have to feed their own.”

  “I understand. It took me some time to get used to their food.” Margaret loitered in the doorway a moment before bowing her head. “If you need anything, just shout. Everything echoes inside the castle, so I’ll hear you no matter where I am.”

  “Margaret, would you come inside for a moment?”

  She looked behind herself, as if checking for prying ears, then swam forward. “Yes, Miss?”

  “I’m worried for you,” I admitted before sitting on the bedrock. I patted the cold space next to me, inviting her to join. She hesitated, but then relented. “Do they care for you well in Finfolkaheem?”

  “As well as any prisoner of war, I suppose.”

  “That Ainsley is a petulant little worm, isn’t he? You shouldn’t let him, or the others, speak to you so dreadfully. Have a little bit of pride, mermaid.”

  “With all due respect, I must bite my tongue if I value my neck. Freedom to speak isn’t afforded to me any longer.”

  “It’s awful that they took you from your home. You must miss it.”

  She blinked back tears, and the sight pinched at my heart. Now that she was close, I could finally make out how young she was. The same age I was, if not a little younger. I tried to imagine being in her place—dragged from my home amid chaos and violence, forced to spend my days cleaning up after the same cuttlefish who plucked me from my clan to begin with. My heart broke for her and every other servant wandering these halls I had yet to meet.

  “It isn’t uncommon for clans to take servants,” she finally said, sniffling. “I had a handmaid, actually, before I was taken. Merrows were just as guilty. Perhaps this is something of a punishment from the ocean. I mean, granted, we never spoke to them as though they were nothing more than plankton, but we did hold them prisoner.”

  “We had servants in Atargatis, too, when Queen Calypso ruled. Once Myrtle took over, she put an end to that. Every citizen is free to serve themselves. In fact, we consider it a responsibility to do so. It took some getting used to. Those of us who relied on others to fetch our meals and clean our grottos had to learn to do those things for ourselves, but it’s so much more peaceful. Resentment doesn’t linger in the waters anymore.”

  “That must be nice. You won’t find such civility in Finfolkaheem.”

  “Have you tried running away?”

  She blanched at my bluntness, her eyes shifting about the room. “Of course not.”

  “It’s all right, Margaret. My loyalties lie with Queen Myrtle and my people, not King Odom. You can tell me the truth.”

  “The thought has never crossed my mind,” she lied. Her green shoulders relaxed a little, and she leaned close. “But even if it had, there’s no place to go. Without one of the Fin-men aiding me with one of their currents, I’d freeze to death before I made it out of icy waters.”

  “As it happens, I know a Fin-man who might help.”

  In one swift motion, she slid off the bedrock and swam upright, the tenseness returning to her rigid back and tired eyes. “You should be careful who you trust, Miss Angelique. I’ve been here long enough to tell you with absolute certainty that no Fin-man will betray his king. Not even for a face as fine as yours.”

  Her words struck me, threatening to steal the air from my lungs, but I hardened against their impact. She was wrong. She had to be. Her observations came from the eyes of a beaten-down prisoner. Every Fin-man was an enemy to this girl, and rightly so.

  She didn’t know Lennox the way I did.

  “I’m sure you believe that to be true,” I said, my tone as tender as I could manage. It wasn’t her fault she considered this clan to be nothing but treacherous, and I wouldn’t hold my bitterness against her. “Either way, when I return to Atargatis, I’ll see what I can do to free you and the others.”

  “That’s very kind of you. As an ambassador, however, you should probably steer clear of meddling. I’ve seen merfolk killed for less.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to figure out how much I should reveal to her. “Can you keep a secret?” I asked, the truth itching on my tongue, burning to be released.

  She nodded, her breath shallow with apprehension. “I’m a servant, Miss. If it is your wish to confide in me, I can’t breathe a word of it.”

  “I’m not a simple ambassador. My word holds more weight than you realize. Everything I promise you, I can bring to fruition.”

  “May I ask who you are then?” she said, her voice timid. “Or would that be an overstep?”

  “Not at all. Have you heard of Queen Calypso, Margaret?”

  “Of course I have. The whole ocean knows who she is. Don’t try to claim to be her in disguise. You can’t be. Rumor in Finfolkaheem is she’s been locked away.”

  “Don’t be silly. With the enemies that woman has, I wouldn’t dare take on her identity. What you’ve heard is true. Queen Calypso remains in Atargatis, under strict security. I am, however unfortunately, her daughter.”

  Margaret covered her mouth, stifling a gasp. She split her fingers and spoke through them. “That makes you a princess, doesn’t it? Or maybe not. Now that Queen Myrtle has taken the throne, are you really still a princess?”

  “Of course I’m still a princess!” I shot up, towering over her, my fists clenched at my side.

  “I’m sorry.” The green merrow shrank back, her eyes falling to the floor again. “I didn’t mean to offend you. My tongue takes off on its own sometimes.”

  I cursed at myself, shaking my head. This poor girl had been through enough already. My temper always seemed to get the better of me. If only Mami Watta’s claims had been true. Then I could be rid of the nasty trait, inherited spitefully from my mother, for good.

  Easing down, I wrapped my arms around her. Her body went rigid at the gesture, as if it was the first time she’d ever been held.

  “Don’t be sorry,” I urged. “Forgive me. I’ve got a hot head. You did nothing wrong.”

  I felt her slacken, and I tried not to shudder when her fingers touched my back. The crusty ooze pricked my skin, making my flesh crawl. Inwardly, I chastised myself. As hideous and grotesque as she was to look at, she was still just a girl. And every girl needed comfort now and then.

  She pulled away, a fresh shadow of skepticism etched into the lines on her face. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  “Come on now, I can’t be the first mermaid to show you a little kindness.”

  “Aside from the merrows, you are. Not everyone is as cruel as the Finfolk, but the most I usually get from someone outside the clan is a polite smile before they eagerly look right past me. I’m not unaware of how I look. Every clan has its curse, and this is ours. We all look this way.”

&nbs
p; “You’re too quick to care what everyone else thinks. In truth, Margaret, I learned a long time ago that beauty is only skin deep. Some of the most treacherous mermaids I’ve known were the most beautiful, myself included. You have a good spirit; I can feel it fighting you. Listen to it, merrow. Don’t let your hope die out. This isn’t the end for you.”

  She swallowed, then cleared her throat. “I hope you’re right. Part of me can’t bear to go on this way much longer.”

  “Find whatever light you can inside yourself, Margaret. Find it and grab it for dear life. If you can keep it in your grasp, maybe I can, too.”

  “What light are you looking for?”

  Her eyes glistened, moist with tears threatening to break free. My heart longed to confess my evils, the despicable deeds I’d committed. To speak about the humans I literally dragged to their deaths. Announce to the world the ways I plotted against my sisters to climb my way to the top of Mother’s list of heirs.

  But I was too drained. Admitting my own heritage proved to be more exhausting than I was prepared for. Combined with the heaviness on my shoulders from meeting a mermaid so hard off and hopeless as Margaret, I was spent. Empathy, a charge still so foreign to me, proved to be an energy-consuming emotion. One that pulled on my eyelids, begging me to rest.

  “One far out of reach,” I offered vaguely. “I will not deceive King Odom. He will know who I am at our meeting tomorrow, but I beg of you, do not breathe a word to the others. At this point, I fear it may do more harm than good to reveal it until I’m in the proper company.”

  “I understand. You have my word, Princess. No one will know.”

  “Good. Now, if you’ll excuse, I’m quite tired. Will you send Lennox up when he’s through tending to… whatever task he’s occupied himself with?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  “What? Why not? He’s harmless, honest. There’s no reason to be frightened of him.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just… you have to be of higher status to ascend beyond the communal areas.”

  I gestured to her, my tone more exaggerated and insulting than intended. “What about you? You’re a servant, after all, and here you are.”

  Her mouth twitched, from agitation or humiliation, I couldn’t tell. “That wasn’t always the case, Princess.”

  “What do you—”

  “I’ll leave you be. If you should want to visit Lennox, he usually visits the dining hall just before sunset.”

  Without glancing back, Margaret showed herself out, leaving me alone with only her brazen, unelicited truths to keep me company. The question of my status had never entered my mind before, but now that the uncertainty had been released into the waters, I couldn’t shake them. They circled me, taunting me with a distinct, unresolved question I couldn’t ignore.

  Am I still a princess of Atargatis?

  My mind raced back, recalling the times the council had omitted me from their meetings. Even when I was present, my self-perceived authority was trampled on without consequence. I was talked over, challenged, and disrespected more times than I cared to remember. Ronald presided over the lot of us as if he were king, and Myrtle allowed it.

  The more I thought about it, the more undeniable it became. I was Angelique, daughter of the fearsome Calypso. Plagued by demons, chased by nightmares of my own misdeeds. A poor, lost mermaid pleading with the world for a forgiveness it would never offer. There were a great many things I could call myself, but I wasn’t sure princess was one of them any longer.

  I lay back, ignoring the biting sting assaulting my body from the bitterly cold rock. Curling into a tight ball, I gave into the hurt. Allowed it to seep into my veins and eat at my soul until my throat was raw from the sobs. My chest burned, aching for oxygen as I heaved in ragged breaths between spurts of tears. Everything I knew about myself, the mermaid I knew myself to be, was erased forever, her absence obvious to the world.

  The only one in the entire ocean blind to the truth… was me.

  A shiver jolted me awake. I wrapped my arms around my tail, wincing at the soreness in my joints. My fingers and shoulders ached, and I flexed them to chase away the pins and needles. This frigid climate was not meant for mermaids. Unlike the Finfolk, we didn’t have an internal heater to protect our blood from freezing in our veins.

  How in the ocean did Margaret survive here?

  Nighttime surrounded me, with only a soft glow outside the window from the garden to offer light. A welcomed change from the blackness that strangled me the previous night, when Lennox and I slept in the cavern. I understood King Odom’s need to find a solution. Too much darkness could inhibit the mind and give wickedness a space to flourish.

  I stretched my tail, a sharp burn crawling from my fork to my torso. If I stayed still, I might freeze to death. Ignoring the pain, I forced myself to swim to the balcony. Maybe the flowers would offer some heat to warm me, the way Lennox’s body did. After all, the Finfolk and everything living around had the same fluorescent glow.

  Resting my hands on the balcony, I smiled at the warmth on the rails, pleased to find my suspicions to be correct. Heat radiated from below, and the crystal constructing the castle absorbed it like a sea sponge. My skin sucked in the sensation, lapping up every bit of relief. I closed my eyes, relaxing as the pain subsided.

  A grinding noise startled me. I snapped my lashes open again, surprised to feel the building beneath my fingertips tremble. I darted out the window, into the open ocean, fear of the structure’s collapse more prominent than that of the unknown creatures of this world. A terrible groan filled the sea, seeming to surround me on all sides.

  Little chunks of ice tapped on my head. Around me, hundreds of tiny fragments drifted down, making a slow dance into the abyss. I looked up, but a hazy fog of cold obstructed my view, so I swam toward the surface. The steepled tip of the castle came into view, along with the iceberg colliding with it. The crystal held strong, slicing the mountain of ice through the middle.

  No one else inside the castle stirred. Given the terrain, this was likely a common occurrence. To me though, watching the Fin-made structure hold so erect in the face of certain doom was nothing less than magical. I wandered near it, eager to get a closer look, when a flickering light on the top floor of the castle caught my attention.

  According to Margaret, no being other than King Odom should so much as swish their tail in that part of the palace. Since he was off hunting, the rooms should be empty and unguarded. A familiar nag of curiosity raised my tail, propelling me forward without thought. To prohibit even the servants from entering, King Odom was either a recluse with a severe obsession with privacy, or he had a secret hidden on those floors.

  I swam to his balcony, slipping in a window into the cold darkness. An orange glow emanated in the center of the room, flicking shadows into the walls. There was something otherworldly about the way the light moved; it was a characteristic I was more familiar with than I wanted to be.

  Dark magic, masked by a fiery orange coloring, bubbled in a cauldron, filled to the brim with a soupy potion. A sizzling hiss escaped the mixture, sending an ominous shiver down my spine. I picked up a nearby spoon, dipped it in the orange, and stirred it until yellow streaked the ooze. Mother’s most terrible potions looked just like this.

  “What in Poseidon’s great ocean are you concocting here, King Odom?” The question was moot, really. Mother taught me long ago how to wake the evil in such a spell, how to force it to reveal itself.

  The lines of changing color swirled in the center, building out into a whirlpool even after I stopped stirring. I leaned in, trying to make out the faint outlines forming in the abstract blend. A blister formed until it became an oversized bubble, thick and black as tar. Without thinking, I reached out, finger extended and ready to—

  Pop.

  I jumped back, checking myself for burns. Whatever type of this potion was, I’d be lucky not to sprout warts everywhere the stuff landed. Thankfully, my flesh had been spa
red. King Odom’s castle however, had not escape the rogue dews.

  Specks of golden droplets floated up, splattering on the ceiling. Shifting my gaze back to the cauldron, I gasped. Every trace of orange had been swallowed up by blackness, which shimmered as if a layer of glass floated above it. The potion took shape, lighting just enough in some places to reveal a face.

  My mother’s face.

  I fell back, landing on my tail with a thud that seemed to shake the walls. A dizzy confusion clouded my head, and my pulse pounded in my neck. This didn’t make any sense. What was Queen Calypso’s face doing in the bottom of King Odom’s cauldron?

  On the other side of the black pot, a large book rested atop of a stand. The pages let off a soft glow, indicating the pages to be protected from erosion by way of magic. The leather cover stank of spells and witchcraft. An odor I knew like the back of my hand. A spell book. I hurried over to thumb through the sheets. Finding a bookmark in the center, I flipped to the marked page—to the last spell King Odom had worked on.

  Binding a Soul.

  My gut twisted as I read through the title, and every word written after made me want to vomit. King Odom found a way to kidnap the soul of any mermaid in ocean caught unaware and unprotected. The victim’s essence could be contained inside the cauldron, leaving their body as nothing but a useless collection of bones and organs—alive but not inhabited.

  Thinking back, I imagined my mother’s face the last time I saw her. The way her eyes seemed so distant and lifeless. My heart hammered against my ribcage with painful irregularity as clarity rained down on me. The second we put that bracelet on my mother’s wrist, the one that kept her from calling on any magic whatsoever, we left her wide open for her enemies to attack.

  King Odom got his revenge for whatever Mother had done to him, and he managed it from clear across the ocean. Inside his pot, clawing and fighting for escape, was my mother’s soul. And I might as well have put her there myself.

  Guilt and shame barreled into my stomach, shoving itself into me until I found myself on the floor. The gold-speckled ceiling above me swayed and twisted. I collected my fists into tight balls and slammed them onto the crystal floor, screaming at the top of my lungs without caring who heard me.