Bride of the Sea: A Little Mermaid Retelling (Otherworld Book 3)

by Emma Hamm

  Nails clinked against the bars, tapping incessantly until she looked up.

  A cluster of her sisters floated nearby. They waited for her eyes to meet theirs and then their faces split into bright, sunny smiles. But then again, they wouldn’t know they were sunny. Many of them would never see the sun in their lifetime.

  “Sister, what is it like?”

  “We want to know!”

  “Love? Is it real?”

  “It couldn’t possibly be real! Look at her, all curled up like that, there’s not a chance in the ocean that love is real.”

  “But what if it is? I want to know what it feels like!”

  Saoirse held up a hand. “Stop.”

  “You must tell us!”

  “Stop it, please. I don’t wish to speak of it.”

  “Saoirse. You’re being so selfish! We want to know what the human affliction feels like!”

  “It’s not an affliction,” she murmured, drawing tighter into herself. “It feels like the first time an oyster opens its mouth. Fearful, shy, it takes its time to reach out into the saltwater and taste the sea on its tongue. And then it realizes the world is wide and great, but not so fearsome after all. It lets the dirt get sucked between its shells willingly and it works them round and round to create a pearl all for itself.”

  Her sisters remained quiet through her speech. The eldest drifted forward and pressed herself against the bars. “But Saoirse, we eat oysters.”

  “You wouldn’t understand. It’s not like food, or water, or even the delicacies of the sea. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”

  “Then why do you look like you’re in pain?”

  “Because I am,” she whimpered. “I am so far away from him, and I know I shall never return to his side. The knowledge is killing me.”

  They flinched back from the cell, grasping each other’s shoulders and creating a ball of shuddering merrows. “Are you ill? Is it truly a sickness then?”

  Some cruel part of Saoirse opened wide. Its dagger-filled mouth gaped open like the bottomless pit of the sea. They would never understand her pain. They would never understand what they had watched happen and did not even try to stop.

  She glanced up at them with cruelty in her heart. “Yes. Yes, it is an illness that spreads like an infection you have never seen before. It rots from the inside out until your beauty is gone, and all that is left is a ragged shell of a creature. Love makes you ugly when you lose it.”

  Their shrieks were music to her ears. Great blasts of water pushed her against the back of the cell as they fled from her words. She couldn’t bring herself to care. Let them think love was a dangerous, barbed thing. Perhaps it would save them the brutality of what she was experiencing.

  Curling back into a ball, Saoirse breathed in the saltwater and tried desperately not to think of the next morning.

  Craig.

  Strong, wart covered hands stroking her skin.

  A merrow man with complete and utter control over everything she did.

  She shuddered.

  At the very least, she would always have her memories. She could feel the press of his lips against her shoulder, against her lips. The sound of his laughter unhindered by the weight of the ocean. The sparkle of appreciation in his eyes every time she left the waves and raced into his arms.

  Saoirse sighed and pressed her fingertips against her lips. Sleep would come late on this night, but she would drift into dreams filled with his image. As she would for the rest of her life.

  “Saoirse, wake up child.”

  The voice broke through her dreams of a man who sang songs of the sea but left footprints in the sand. She stirred, uncoiled her tail which lay across her face, and lifted herself onto an elbow.

  “Máthair?”

  “Child, it’s time to go.”

  “Go? Is it already time for the wedding?”

  “No, my dear. You will not get married today.”

  The words were an electric shock down her spine. “Athair changed his mind?”

  “No, I did.”

  These were the last words she expected to come out of her mother’s mouth. Saoirse twisted her body, grasped the stone bars of the cage, and pressed her face close to the openings.

  “Máthair?”

  “When your father and I first met, I, too wished for a different life. Merrows are born to suffer, child. That is our place in this world.” She reached through the cage and brushed her fingers across Saoirse’s cheek. “If you have a chance to break free, then I will do everything in my power to help.”

  “Won’t Athair be mad at you?”

  “Likely, but I’m willing to take the risk.”

  Her mother held up the key to the cell. Life burned in her eyes, so bright it lit an answering spark deep within Saoirse. If even her mother, the perfect example of what a merrow should be, could break the rules… surely that meant it was acceptable for Saoirse to do the same.

  The key crunched in the coral filled lock. She flinched, holding herself still as if that would make the sound quieter. No one could know she was escaping. No one could know it was her own mother who had set her free.

  She rushed from the cage and launched herself into Máthair’s waiting arms. Saoirse pressed her face into the crook of her mother’s neck, breathing in saltwater and the scent of warmer waters. Her mother had not been born in the depths of the ocean but had come here with her father long ago.

  “Where will I go?” Saoirse whispered. “I know nowhere that is safe.”

  “You will go to my sister, if need be. But I have another idea.”

  Máthair pulled back and held up a small seashell. It was strangely shaped, like a corkscrew with fine filaments at the end.

  “Few merrows know the guardians can speak.”

  “I’ve always thought they spoke with me.”

  “This is different,” her mother corrected. “The guardians can speak, Saoirse. We just can’t hear them. With this in your ear, you can hear their tones and converse with them. Not a one-sided conversation reading body language, but true conversation.”

  “Oh.” Saoirse reached out and reverently held the small shell between her fingers. “I just—”

  “Place it in your ear and give it a twist, yes like that. Good job. It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

  “No, Máthair.”

  “Good. Find the nearest guardian, ask her to give you passage from our waters and to follow the human ship.”

  “Ship?” she asked, confused. “Why do I need to find a ship?”

  “Your human has gone to safety, chased away by the merrow men. Find the guardian. She’ll know which one, they’ve been watching you for a very long time.”

  “Why?” Manus had left her? Why would he do that? And why would the guardians care about a merrow girl who was one of hundreds? Saoirse wasn’t anything special, other than her dark hair.

  “Your soul doesn’t belong here with us. They knew it the first moment I brought you to meet them from your egg.” Máthair brushed a strand of hair away from Saoirse’s face, letting it float behind her head with gentle grace. “They predicted you would leave us at a young age.”

  “I am not young.”

  “For a merrow, you most certainly are.”

  Her mother drew Saoirse into her arms, and it felt very much like the kind of goodbye which lasted forever.

  Saoirse drew in a deep breath and squeezed hard. She wanted to remember every instant of this moment when her quiet, withdrawn mother saved her child from suffering the same fate. Saoirse was not alone in her desire for freedom, and that was all that mattered.

  “Go,” her mother rasped. “Go now, before they have a chance to stop you.”

  She didn’t hesitate. As soon as her mother’s arms released, Saoirse shot through the ocean as she had never swum before. Her tail muscles burned, her stomach ached, her hair pulled back so tight her skull screamed as she blasted through the dark waters.

  The discomfort was little more than a p
assing inconvenience. She fled towards freedom, and that was worth a little pain.

  Up and up she swam until she saw the beckoning light of the sun. Sunny rays created stunning spears of gold that reached for her with open arms. Just a bit further, and she could turn her face to the open air and the screeching sound of seagulls.

  Every instant felt as though someone might grab her tail. That she would hear the enraged shout of her father and a call for a hunt that terrified her to the marrow of her bones. She couldn’t afford to lose this chance. Not now.

  Saoirse crested the surface and inhaled through her nose. Though water stuck in her throat and her gills gasped, it suddenly felt more natural than breathing underwater.

  Shrieks of sea birds and the shushing sound of waves accosted her senses. She’d never been happier in this moment knowing she had made it.

  She was free.

  A great wave swelled next to her, riding the back of a guardian who had apparently followed her. Its grey skin was marked with scars from countless battles with whaling ships, sharks, and even the occasional faerie. Her great eye tilted up, peering through the water into Saoirse’s face.

  She had dealt with them enough to know what that expression meant. Sighing, Saoirse sank back underneath the water and faced the guardian’s disappointed expression.

  “I’m going,” she said firmly. “I refuse to linger here when the man I love is out there. It isn’t fair I should taste such exquisite ambrosia and not follow it wherever it goes. You cannot stop me.”

  The shell in her ear quivered, quaked, and rattled with such vigor she worried it would fall out of her ear canal. But then she heard it. The deep, reverberating tones of the guardian.

  “I will not try to stop you, child.”

  “You won’t?”

  “Saoirse, you were not made for the sea.” The guardian swam closer and reached out a finger. It tapped Saoirse above the heart, so gentle for an appendage that was the same width as her body. “You have a piece of it here, in your heart. But the rest of you has always longed for the sun.”

  “Then you’ll help me?”

  “I will, but I need you first to know merrows always suffer. It is your purpose in life. If you go to the land, I cannot protect you. No one can.”

  “I am strong on my own.”

  The guardian smiled. “You are, I know that. But the land differs greatly from the sea, and I worry you do not understand what it takes to be a human.”

  “Do you?” Saoirse asked, wrapping her arms around the offered finger. “Can you tell me what it’s really like?”

  “I have never been to land.”

  “Have you seen it?”

  “I’ve seen the teeming masses of people. The strange animals when they sink beneath the waves. Humans are cruel and unkind, they do not care for each other as we do under the sea.”

  “It will be a great adventure.” And that was all Saoirse wanted. To see what Manus saw, to understand the world as he did.

  “Just be careful, Saoirse. Merrows are young, you in particular have yet to see what the world can do to a person. You love with your whole heart, and I do not want to see you lose it.”

  “If I let him go, I’ve already lost it, guardian.”

  “I know. And that is why I am allowing you to leave. The ship followed the cold current north. Follow it as far as you can until you find the other ships. Uí Néill is where they travel. Hold on to the sides of ships if you must, to listen for their destination. But let no one see your true form.”

  “I understand.” She squeezed the guardian’s finger in a hug and pressed a kiss against her knuckle. “I will miss you.”

  “And I you, child.”

  With a flick of her tail, she fled from the waters of her home towards the unknown. Saoirse’s heart beat rapidly, but in anticipation rather than fear.

  She traveled for days on end. Dolphins kept her company for a time. They chattered stories in her ears, making her giggle and laugh even though she was tired. When they needed to leave, a few orcas took their place. They differed from their cousins, more dangerous and solemn. Their stories came from colder waters where blocks of ice floated in the ocean.

  Saoirse was rarely alone, even while she slept. Otters tucked their furry bodies under her arms, cuddled along her sides, and helped her float while she rested. A few even let her hold their favorite stones, which they carried with them for their entire lives.

  The first week of travel lacked any ship sightings. The second, a few appeared on the horizon.

  Saoirse grasped the sides, slick with water and rot, and desperately listened for words that sounded familiar. They were not traveling towards Manus, so she had to let go. Even though her arms and tail shook, they journeyed away from her future.

  It was by chance she found the quaint boat carrying only four men. There was one sail, no bottom deck, and one net to its name, but it was plenty for her to hold onto as long as they didn’t look behind them too closely.

  Thankfully, they all seemed to be in a hurry to get home.

  “Did you hear?” one of the men asked. “The Silver Harpoon has a new ale tonight.”

  “They say that every year, and there’s never been a new ale. It’s the same old watered-down drink they give us every time we go in.”

  “No sir! I’ve heard from very reputable sources that it’s the truth this time.”

  “Do you mean that McDonall fellow you’re always going on about? He wouldn’t know the truth if it bit him in the ass.”

  “He’s the most truthful man in all of Uí Néill.”

  Saoirse’s fingers clenched on the sodden wood. “Uí Néill,” she repeated.

  This was the ship which would guide her. Ducking underneath the waves, she trailed it all the way to land. The water grew foggy, and the fish fled, but she continued on.

  The guardian hadn’t exaggerated. Saoirse peered up towards the docks and held onto the fronds of tall seaweed. There were so many people up there.

  She couldn’t count the throngs of men and women who shouted and screamed so loudly she could hear them underneath the waves. They waved cloth at each other and wore so much on their bodies she thought they must be tired all the time. And they came in so many different colors.

  She searched for him but didn’t see the strong jaw and accentuated features she admired. Frowning, she traveled up and down the shore until the light disappeared. Only a sliver of the moon guided her.

  “I cannot give up,” she whispered. But there was little more she could do.

  Saoirse lingered on a single dock far from the city. Her fins drooped, and her arms weighed heavy as she anchored herself on the end of the wood. Laying her head on her folded arms, she watched a small cabin nearby.

  It wasn’t much, just a tiny shack near the sea. The wood was rotting in places, stuffed with rags to keep the room warm.

  The orange light of a flame flared bright, covered briefly by a hand, and touching a candle. She had only heard of such things in stories. The flickering light was enchanting. Like an angler fish, but with far more life.

  Who lived in such a place? A small family, with a single child and a mother who loved them dearly? Or perhaps two children, a boy and a girl with a wonderful future filled with faeries and magic?

  Saoirse loved to think up stories that would fill the pages of her mind. Someday, she would tell them to others. Perhaps even to Manus, should she ever find him.

  A body crossed in front of the candle, throwing a shadow on the wall. Tall and broad, it was a strong outline of a man. His shoulders could hold the world. His aquiline nose was a jagged point, like a hawk or an eagle.

  She lost her breath. She knew that profile as well as the small statue of the forgotten king.

  “Manus!” Saoirse clapped a hand against her mouth.

  What if he didn’t want her here? She hadn’t thought to question during her entire journey whether he’d left because he had to. What if he’d willingly left her behind?

  Co
uld everything have been a lie?

  Saoirse wasn’t certain what she would do if that were the case. Her heart would splinter into a thousand pieces and her body would disintegrate into sea foam. She would float away on the ocean’s current and forget about the cruelty of man.

  His shadow turned and disappeared. She clutched the dock with a grip that made the wood creak. The delicate membranes between her fingers ached with the pressure.

  The door to the cabin opened, and he held a light above his head. “Hello? Who goes there?”

  Her nails scraped the wood. It was him. It was really him. After all she had gone through, all the distance she had traveled, and here he was.

  “You there! On the dock!”

  “No,” she gasped and ducked down into the water.

  She couldn’t be ready for this, not now! What would she say? She journeyed across the sea to find him? Who did that?

  Saoirse wasn’t ready to declare her love, and that surely was what he would think when he saw her.

  She wasn’t even certain she knew what love was. And yet, it sprouted in her breast like the great tree in the grotto under the ocean. It wanted to spread its roots throughout her heart.

  And she wasn’t inclined to stop it.

  Pressing her fingers against her lips, she listened. The padding sounds of bare feet on wood echoed the staccato of her heart.

  He was here. He was really here.

  She reached into her ear and slid the spiral shell out. Tangling it in the strands of her hair, she resolved herself to a life above the waves. He would take care of her. He had to.

  By Moonlight I Will Love Thee

  Manus lit the candle and watched the flame dance on the wick. It was one of his last matches. He’d have to go to market for more but wasn’t certain he’d have the coin.

  That was always the hardest part of returning after a long trip. His cabin wasn’t secure. No locks barred his doors to prevent scavengers from stealing his belongings, no boards protected his windows. They had been kind this time. He still had blankets on his bed and a table, although they had taken his chairs.