The Mermaid Bride

by Lidiya Foxglove

  “Like you’re an expert now. I know far more about relationships with women than you do.”

  “And don’t tell Father about this. You know he won’t want you getting involved with a mermaid.”

  He foisted the book onto me before walking away.

  “Like he’s not going to find out!” I barked, and then I sobered. Maybe he wouldn’t, confined to his bed.

  I’d always told myself I knew far more about women than Ithrin, because I was experienced while he waited for his future wife. Now that Ithrin had a wife, he thought he knew better. And maybe he did. Ithrin was taking life seriously. His relationship was real, and my life seemed a game in comparison.

  I thought about Ithrin and Ellara, how he was teaching her to ride, how they took walks and fed the ducks in the moat and sat there talking. I’d never had that with anyone—except Talwyn.

  And no way in hell could I keep my courtship with Talwyn chaste now that she was here. It didn’t negate all of our conversations. The time we had spent made the sex that much better. She might not remember the time we’d spent but…deep down, I thought she knew.

  I opened the door. She was still there naked in my bed, just where I left her.

  “Talwyn,” I said, sitting down beside her.

  “Wrindel…” She glanced at me, her eyes slightly glazed before they focused on mine.

  “Let’s get some clothes on you.”

  “What were you yelling about out there?”

  “Nothing of concern.” I picked up one of her feet and rolled a peach-colored silk stocking up one perfectly shaped leg. She squirmed a little; I could tell she didn’t really like having her legs encased in fabric. It must’ve felt very strange to her.

  “I heard some of it,” she said, arching a brow.

  “Great.”

  “Why don’t you like who you are?”

  “It’s not that. Don’t take things out of context.”

  “You sleep with a lot of women, don’t you?” she said, her tone almost sly. It suggested she wasn’t going to hate me for it, but she was definitely going to hassle me.

  “Not now,” I said sharply. “It’s only you, sunshine—as long as I can keep you. But I also need to get married.”

  “Oh?”

  “If my father dies—” I fastened a garter belt around her waist and clipped the stockings to it. Many elven women only wore a simple shift for underwear and put their bare feet into slippers, but I preferred having a few things to strip off. The maid who brought me the clothes must have heard rumors of my proclivities. I paused a moment at the sight of her gorgeous little pussy between all those trappings. Such smooth bare skin she had. Even girls who put wax down there to tear out their hair didn’t look like that. “You’re so beautiful…”

  She wasn’t having it now. “If your father dies, what?”

  “Ithrin is the king. I’m the second in line until Ellara has a child. And if something happened to Ithrin, I would be prince regent until his son came of age. I would expect Ithrin to live a long life, but our family hasn’t had the best of luck. I know everyone in Wyndyr would feel more secure if we both settled down.”

  “Why haven’t you settled down already? You don’t like any elven girls?”

  “I like a lot of elven girls. But—” I clasped her hand. “Not as much as you.”

  “You’re a sweet talker, aren’t you?”

  “But I mean it. I want you, and no one else. As I said, we’ve known each other for six months. This is no hasty declaration.”

  She paused, slowly tilting her head sideways, so her long, untamed hair fell across one shoulder. “Are you…proposing to me?”

  I hadn’t intended to propose to her, but I realized that not only was I doing exactly that. For months I had wanted her, closing my mind off to the prospect only because I could never have her. Now—now I must have her.

  Gods, could I only have her if I kept up the lie? If I never told her about the stone? If I never told her she had two sisters who would no doubt be worried sick? They were of age, although just barely, and she seemed a little frustrated with them when we talked, but was that justification for stealing her away from them?

  But if the other choice was to put her in danger…

  The witch was forcing me to choose Talwyn’s course in life. I couldn’t ask her what she wanted. If I returned her to the sea, she would know I was an honest man, but I could never get her back.

  Was I wrong to keep her here? Maybe fate had brought her to me.

  “Why postpone the inevitable?” I said. “Some things must happen. The sun rises, the sun sets, and I have to ask you to marry me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Talwyn

  Objectively, this seemed like such a bad idea.

  But I think he had bewitched me.

  “I need my memories,” I said. “Before I can decide.”

  His hand tightened around my palm. “What if you could only get your memory back by returning to the sea forever? What would you choose?”

  “Is that how it is?”

  “Maybe… I don’t really know how or why you’re here any more than you do…” He was hesitant. “I have a feeling your memories are the key to finding out how I came to find you on the shore. But this might be the price you pay for being here. That’s all I can say.”

  “I don’t know, Wrin… What if I have family I’ve left behind? Did I ever mention it?”

  “No.” His pose had grown stiff. “We didn’t talk about our families.”

  “What did we talk about?”

  “Hopes and dreams.” He smiled faintly. “Gossip. The weather. Food. Judge me if you will—and you did—but I still think the humble cod is the tastiest fish.”

  “Not enough fat in cod.” I frowned. “You’re trying to change the subject.”

  He finally got to his feet and sat down on the bed beside me. “You kept my mind off of things, sunshine. I wish you remembered our conversations. But since you don’t, we can talk it out all over again. Let me show you everything palace life has to offer, and then you can decide whether your answer is yes or no.”

  “All right,” I said, unable to ignore the excitement quivering inside me, much less an unbidden curiosity to know what else he might do to me.

  “First, court dress,” he said, holding the neck over my head. I was starting to understand how clothes worked a little better. I lifted my arms and let him slip the dress on. At least this dress was more comfortable than the other one. The fabric was very thin and soft, almost as silky against my skin as water itself. It had loose, fluttering sleeves, a low neckline and a high waist.

  “Second, let’s get you on your feet.” He tugged on my hands.

  “Ack!” He pulled me up so I was standing on shaky legs, leaning heavily on his grasp.

  “You’re no infant with undeveloped muscles,” he said. “So you should be able to walk, I think.”

  “But I don’t know how to balance on these tiny feet!”

  “They’re not much tinier than mine, by the looks of it.”

  “Are you saying my feet are too big?”

  “Nothing wrong with it. But you’re not a small girl. You’re almost as tall as I am.”

  Truly, he still had a good several inches on me, but I guess he was tall for a man, and I was tall for a woman. It was strange to consider because mermaids didn’t measure things in terms of height, only length. But in my world, anyone could move in any direction, whereas I realized here, feet were rooted to the ground.

  “Take a minute to find your center,” he said.

  My hips wavered, trying to find any such thing. “It’s so different under water, Wrin! I don’t know how to stand up rigidly like you do.”

  He put a hand at the small of my back, and straightened me up, stepping close to me so that my stomach rested against his pelvis. Having him that close offered an extra sense of security. His hands moved to my hips, keeping me secure. I shuffled my feet a little so that my stance fit better with th
e way he was holding me. And somehow, I found myself standing straight, albeit with little muscles in my legs trembling.

  “That’s it,” he said. “Do you feel secure now?”

  “Not exactly… Don’t let go of me!”

  “We’ll go slowly.” He moved his hands away from my hips, up to my arms, and held me as I quivered, trying to find the right way of standing on my own.

  “There’s no guidebook for this,” he commented wryly. “I know how to teach a baby to walk. The healers have helped men who were injured build up their strength again. But a girl with two strong, healthy legs who just doesn’t know how to use them? It ought to be easy.”

  “So you say.”

  But I realized I was standing up straight again, and he had been slowly loosening his grip on me a bit.

  We kept working on it until I dared to attempt a few steps forward, falling into his arms. He caught me and broke into a wide smile that matched my own.

  “I did it!” I said, caught in a moment of ridiculous triumph.

  “Baby’s first steps,” he teased.

  “Now—can any of the other women you’ve been with do that?” I poked his ribs.

  His grin shifted into something that reminded me of the words I’d overheard—I don’t always like who I am. “That’s the third thing, sunshine. Ithrin already warned you about me. Everyone will warn you about me. And if you had your memories, you would already know. It’s true—I’ve made no secret of it. I’ve been chasing girls since I was sixteen, and I’m a prince, so I catch about every one. I’ve been losing my taste for the endless pursuit, seeing Ithrin and Ellara so happy together. But I can’t blame you if you look at my reputation and you don’t believe me. I know mermen aren’t as subject to that kind of behavior.”

  “I don’t know. I feel as if I’ve heard stories.”

  “I thought merfolk have a mating season.”

  “Well, yes, but how much can you get done in a season? And it’s—well—it comes around about every other month for ten or twelve days. Not all merfolk are sweet, simple village types, you know. But I’ve stayed away from mermen.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I guess I just…didn’t feel anything for them. Or maybe I had something else I had to do…”

  He seemed eager to change the subject now. “Anyway, it’s time we should head to the dining hall. I suppose I can carry you…this once.”

  “You’d better.”

  He swept me into his arms. “Luckily, we are not too formal around here,” he said.

  I gasped as we entered the dining hall. A long table was set with piles of bread, silver tureens with three different soups, and most astonishing of all, three candelabras with a dozen candles each. The candles caught the light of silver and glass and made everything so bright that I could clearly see the faces of every person at the table. Off to one side was a small fountain where diners could rinse and dry their hands. Rose petals floated in the basin, which was tiled in a mosaic pattern.

  Wrindel put me on my feet so we could wash our hands together. Everyone was looking at us, but I couldn’t feel too embarrassed—not yet. It was too dreamlike. Why be embarrassed inside of a dream?

  “Everything here is so…deliberate,” I said.

  “Deliberate?”

  “I mean, all the little details.” I rinsed my hands, noticing that the pattern of tiles at the bottom of the basin was like an octopus reaching its arms up the sides. The water felt wonderful on my skin. “The merfolk are like animals in comparison. Living in caves. We have no cuisine, no…houses made to look so nice?”

  “Architecture?”

  “Is that what you call it?”

  He nodded. “I’m not showing you all of this to make you feel inferior about your home,” he said. “The underwater world must be beautiful.” He handed me a linen towel to dry my hands.

  “It is, but…we are not masters of our world, the way land people are.”

  “Masters of our world, are we? In some ways.” He touched my arm. “Let’s get you seated.” He swept me off my feet again, prompting a squeak of surprise from me and gentle laughter from the girl sitting beside Prince Ithrin. I was given a seat across from her.

  “This is Ellara,” Ithrin said. “My bride.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Ellara readily offered a hand across the table, then glanced at Ithrin. “I’m not supposed to reach across, am I?” We shook hands anyway. “I’m still learning the palace etiquette sometimes,” she said.

  “Well, we aren’t sticklers,” Ithrin said. “But a princess needs to know how to be a stickler if she must.”

  “Good thing I’m not a princess,” I murmured, looking at the array of silverware. I had some idea of how they worked, but why I had three forks was beyond me.

  Beside the brothers, the head of the table was empty, a sad reminder that the king was sick. But we were hardly alone at the long table. There were a good twenty or so more finely clad ladies and gentlemen seated at the long table, speaking amongst themselves—probably about me, although I couldn’t quite make

  “Who are all of those people?” I asked Wrindel.

  “The highest ranked members of the court besides us,” he said. “That’s Lord Pirell, Lady Pirell, across from them is Lord and Lady Moridan…you know what, it doesn’t really matter right now.”

  Next to the Lord and Lady Pirell was a skinny blonde girl who was glaring at me. I ignored her in favor of Ellara, who seemed friendly. She was petite and darker than the elves, with coarser hair that curled wildly, barely tamed by a pearl headband. Her eyes were bright and golden, and seemed like they wouldn’t miss a thing.

  “You’re a mermaid,” Ellara said. “All of this must seem very strange. Have you ever been on land before?”

  “No…it’s all new to me. And you’re…a goblin?”

  “Half goblin, but…well, that counts for a full goblin around these parts.” Her nose scrunched.

  “Has anyone been unkind to you lately?” Ithrin asked with concern.

  “No, no, they’re very polite, it’s just—not entirely welcoming. But you know, I’m used to that. I can handle it.” She added, “We’re going to the goblin kingdom in the spring and I’m very excited for him to be the one out of his element for once. Just to be fair.”

  “But there, you’ll be half-elf, won’t you?” Wrindel teased. He passed me some food and showed me how to spread the butter on the bread. I almost hated to hack into the butter because it was so pretty, formed in a molded shape like a running horse.

  I cut the horse’s tail off and tried to spread it on my bread. I was clumsy with the silverware. I noticed the other diners whispering down from one end of the table toward us in a chain of hands cupped around ears, and Lord Pirell cleared his throat and said, “Does your dear father know you have caught a mermaid?”

  Ithrin glanced at Wrindel, who looked back at him defiantly. “No,” Wrindel said. “And you won’t tell him, either.”

  “You do know that—”

  “If you’re referring to the events of two centuries ago, yes, I know. And it is hardly relevant.”

  “Two centuries ago?” I asked.

  “When grandfather was young, he brought a mermaid to the palace,” Ithrin said. “People said she was his mistress, but she didn’t have legs. I’m sure they never…copulated. She lived in the palace waters for many months.”

  “Does that mean I’m a scandal?” I asked.

  That blonde girl was giving me a cold look, but when she caught me looking at her, she took out a compact with a jeweled case and pretended to straighten the gold combs in her hair.

  “Of course not. The royal family have the power to make their own decisions,” Lord Pirell said, but he looked at Wrindel like a judgmental uncle.

  “Is a mermaid worse than a goblin?” Ellara whispered.

  “We’re not about to start ranking the races of the world based on how appropriate they are,” Ithrin said uncomfortably. “This is a modern era. We should
all be working together.”

  But I’m not sure it was really that simple. The dinner was the best thing I’d ever tasted—fish baked with herbs and lemon, roasted squash, beans mashed with onion and dark sugar, tiny carrots swimming in butter—but I was so awkward with the utensils that I sent one of the carrots flying to the floor. I got lemon sauce on my dress, too. I wasn’t used to eating like this, with clothes to worry over, and objects that fell instead of floating, and no water to wash everything away. When I joined humans on the beach in a festival atmosphere, everyone was half-drunk so it didn’t matter.

  I felt a little ashamed of myself, like I was a slob with bad manners, but in my underwater world I knew how to behave. My world was so different from theirs, not just in culture but even on a basic elemental level. I suppose they couldn’t help but be suspicious of me.

  It only made me more stubborn. I wasn’t sure I had ever felt like I belonged, even back home. But when I was with Wrindel, I felt like someone was listening to me. I didn’t want to give that up, not just because some snooty elves didn’t like mermaids.

  After dinner, the crowd retired to a series of salons on the ground floor of the palace. The party swelled, joined by many who had not been present in the dinner hall. Older gentlemen took to one room and older ladies to another, while the younger folk mixed, playing games with dice. I didn’t know what dice were called right up until then, but I recognized them from shipwrecks.

  “I’m so glad to know what these are actually for!” I told Wrindel.

  “The question now is, how good are you at tossing them?”

  Pretty good, as it turned out. We had eight people at our table and I won the first two games out of six.

  “Beginner’s luck, fishy,” the blonde girl said sourly as I swept up the chips. She had been increasingly nasty to me, and the rest of the time she spent more time staring at her compact. I’m not sure what was so interesting about her own face.

  “It’s not just luck,” I retorted. “There’s a trick to deciding how many dice to use and when.” I was feeling pretty pleased at myself for realizing this early on.