The Mermaid Bride

by Lidiya Foxglove

  It was also sweet. So very sweet. I felt so tight and the way he filled me up, stretched me deep inside…I was surprised at just how right it felt.

  “You might not be able to take the whole thing on the first try,” he said.

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “If you want to make it into one…”

  “I want to be the best you’ve ever had, Prince Wrindel,” I said, shoving his hair out of his eyes and kissing him deeply as I kept pushing myself to have every inch of him inside me. I made mingled sounds of pain and pleasure, my mouth drinking him in. I felt every small increment like it was a great accomplishment, his hard length reaching deeper as I rocked my hips slowly, finding the room for him. It got easier, as I kept getting more and more slick inside.

  His hips flexed, his cock throbbing inside me. “That’s all of me,” he said. Slowly, he started to take control. He rolled his hips, clutching my ass, his cock stroking me inside, his pelvis rubbing gently against my clit. “Oh, Tal, I’ve wanted this. Now I don’t know how I held back all summer from even kissing you. But I’m glad we waited. I never realized how satisfying it is to wait.”

  “I think I’ve wanted this all summer too,” I said. “I think I was afraid of how much I was starting to like you. I wish I could remember all the things we’ve talked about.”

  He pulled me down on top of him, our limbs so tangled that I felt like we were two halves of the same octopus. He swept me under him, pumping into me faster. He looked strangely serious in the moment. He looked at me like he was memorizing every line of my face.

  He worries he might lose me, I thought.

  Right now, I couldn’t imagine going anywhere. Whatever my life underwater held, it was nothing like this. I didn’t need my memories to know that.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wrindel

  My mermaid. My princess.

  It felt so damn good just to be close to her, to be inside her. It all felt so new, though I was glad for my experience, that I knew how to make this good for her. I made sure to keep her little clit stimulated, stroking it with my finger here and there to make her mewl, and then pulling back again to keep her in suspense. Her nipples got the same treatment. I took my time with her, because I wanted it to be incredible. I wanted her to come like a meteor hitting the earth.

  I pushed her legs up so I could rub the soles of her feet. I had a feeling her skin was very tender there. It seemed to shock her system to touch the newborn shape of her legs and feet. It made her a little uncomfortable, too.

  But that was the beauty of it. A little surprise, a little pain—it was the seasoning in the stew.

  Sure enough, the combination of my cock pumping into her and my hands running along the sensitive arches of her feet and tugging on her toes seemed to render her speechless. Her hair was spilled across the bed. She made little sounds that were not quite words.

  That was how I brought her to climax the first time. Her pussy tightened hard around me, her muscles convulsing, her whole body shuddering, her moans completely unbidden. I was on the brink of losing all control, gripping her ass, groaning deep as I lost myself inside her.

  Usually in this moment, I felt pleasure and relief. But this was different. This was a primal urge to fuck as hard as I could, to make babies with this girl, to keep her so close and so aroused that she never thought of anything but me. When I started to come, I was rougher with her than I meant to be. It almost didn’t even feel good. It was too strong.

  She didn’t try to stop me, though.

  When I was done, I was almost dizzy with it. Breaking apart was agony. I never wanted to be apart from her.

  She was breathing hard, looking into my eyes. She found my hand and laced my fingers with hers.

  “Wrindel,” she said. “That was beautiful.”

  “Talwyn.” I put my hand on her cheek. I didn’t know how to put it in words. She had to stay. I had to keep her here.

  She smiled, closing her eyes, our fingers still interlocked all through the night.

  “Father wants to see you,” Ithrin told me the next morning while I was enjoying breakfast with Talwyn in my private quarters. Taking her to dinner had been hasty, I realized. Today, I planned to show her the rest of the palace and take her out in the carriage for a tour of the town.

  “Right now?” I rose reluctantly. “Is he all right?”

  “He’s doing a little better today, actually.”

  “Go ahead,” Talwyn said. “I can wait here.”

  “If he’s going to tell me to send Talwyn away, I’m not doing it,” I said.

  Ithrin just stood by the door, looking as if my stalling tired him.

  Well, it wasn’t like I could refuse Father anything when he was sick in bed.

  Coward, I told myself. Because in the end, Father wouldn’t make me send Talwyn away. I knew that. I really just hated visiting him in his sickbed.

  I had always been terrified of sick people. Even though I was a baby when Mother, Jiriel and Seldana were dying, maybe early memories lurked in my mind. Or maybe I was just an irresponsible cad after all.

  I didn’t like problems I couldn’t fix. When you’re a prince, you can’t make the whole kingdom happy, but at least you can grant a lot of favors. You can benevolently purchase a loaf of bread for a begging child. When you see the owner of a tavern beating a poor serving girl for a simple mistake, you can offer her a job in the palace kitchens. When your older brother is in a brooding mood, you can force him to go have a night out.

  I couldn’t do a damn thing for Father. I couldn’t ease his pain. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I could only listen to his abruptly weakened voice and look into his face, which was so much like an older version of Ithrin’s and mine, but ghastly pale.

  “Father?” I entered the room. A window was open for fresh air but the fireplace was blazing to counteract the cool breeze. A dozen bottles littered the table, and the air smelled thickly of medicines.

  “Sit down, Wrin. I need to make sure I say these things before I go.”

  “Go?” My stomach wrenched. “Ithrin said you were feeling better today.”

  “A little, but what does that mean? Nothing. Your mother was unconscious with fever for two days, then perfectly lucid, barely even coughing, for three hours before she died. Just long enough to find out that Jiriel and Seldana had already died the day before. This is it, I feel it. Maybe it will take two days, maybe two months, but I’m leaving this earth.”

  “You’re only eighty! Have they said what’s wrong?” I waved at all the medicine bottles. “Are all these here just for show?”

  “I don’t know why, but we just don’t live long, do we?” He smiled wryly. “Some elves we are. But such is life. As they said, elves live for two centuries, as long as we eat good food, drink clean water, and never leave our houses. I didn’t follow that advice, did I? I suppose it’s caught up to me.”

  “Damn.” I slammed my hand on the bedside table so hard that one of the bottles jumped off, but I caught it. I turned it over, my eyes unfocused as I stared at the label. “I don’t even know what to say. You’ve always been there for me…”

  “I don’t want to go,” he said. “I wanted to see your children. But…I have to believe I will never leave your side. I know our lost loved ones never left us. I see your mother in my dreams all the time…”

  I wasn’t as sentimental as Father. I didn’t have as much faith. I tried to think it was true but instead I was just furious.

  “Wrin,” he said. “About this mermaid of yours…”

  “Ithrin told you?”

  “Well, the whole castle is talking about it, obviously. Just because I’m in bed doesn’t mean I’ve gone deaf.”

  “I know. Grandfather had a shameful dalliance with a mermaid, and now history must repeat itself, I suppose. No one will consider that things might be different for us.”

  “It was long before my time,” Father said. “Long before he married my mother. I was well into adul
thood before anyone told me about it. But aside from him, I’m sure you know how these things always end. You know the spell that forces a mermaid to the land. I want you to be with the woman you love, same as your brother, but mermaids are not of this world. You can’t have her without a lie.”

  “It’s just one lie,” I said.

  “You can’t love someone and lie to them. Not about something like that.”

  “I don’t want to lie. But if I tell her the truth, she will change back, even if she wants to be with me. And she does. In this case, the truth would hurt her.”

  “But what are you taking from her?”

  Her sisters. A lump sat in my throat. Talwyn loved and protected her sisters and I had to tell her that we never talked about our families. I knew it was wrong for me to keep her from remembering them, but damn it all, they were also adults. They could find their own way. They surely wouldn’t stay so close forever. Ithrin was terribly important to me. But in the end, wasn’t one’s true love more important than sisters?

  My own inner arguments didn’t sit right, yet I had no idea what else to do.

  “You never got to see my marriage with your mother,” Father said. “I hope I’ve told you enough that you can make the right decision.”

  Talwyn would choose me. She would stay on land, keep her legs. I am as sure as I’ve ever been of anything.

  Chapter Twelve

  Talwyn

  When I was left alone, I abandoned breakfast (I was still not sure what I thought of bread, such a very dry food) and carefully made my way to the balcony. My steps were shaky but I was able to walk. Outside Wrindel’s quarters, an elegant ribbon of waterfall fell into a shallow pool. I sat down and slipped my feet into the water. The cool liquid felt like home, but it didn’t seem right. This water had no salt, no fish, no plants lining the ocean floor, just pristine crystal liquid, shimmering in the sunlight.

  A yearning came over me. I couldn’t deny how happy I had been last night. I felt sure I had never experienced such joy as in Wrin’s arms. But mornings had a sobering quality.

  Who was I leaving behind?

  When Wrin came back, I could tell he was shaken from the visit with his father.

  “Are you all right?”

  “All right,” he growled. “Am I all right? Is he all right? That’s all anyone asks anymore. What am I supposed to say? He thinks he’s dying. Maybe he’s right. Our family has never had good luck with…living.”

  My chest tightened.

  He softened. “Don’t worry, sunshine. I don’t want to think about it. Let’s have a day on the town. You seem to be walking all right, if I give you my arm for balance?”

  “I think so.” I was eager to see more of this world. “But will we ride on the horse again? I’m not sure I can handle it.”

  He laughed. “We’ll take a carriage.”

  If I could use one word to describe the day that followed—well, no single word could ever be enough. It was magnificent and overwhelming and astonishing. The carriage was a neat little box with windows, that rattled down the roads. Wrindel warned that it might make me feel sick, but it didn’t. The rocking reminded me of rough waters. And that carriage brought us around the entire city.

  I saw more buildings and people in one day than I had seen in all my years traveling the seas. Wrin showed me the massive water wheel that powered a mill, the great fish market where the best of the day’s catch was sold in a clamoring frenzy called an auction, and the hills of grape vines that made elvish wine. I couldn’t get enough of all the sights, the different styles of clothing, the animals.

  It was an incredibly hectic world up here, noisy and dirty with the constant clink of coins, the shouting of street vendors. I would be lying not to admit I also saw things that disturbed me. Some of the people looked very lean and hungry, and I saw a woman hit a crying child and a man in a wooden cage that was strung up in a tree being jeered at by children. Wrindel said he was being punished for stealing, and I went pale.

  He laughed. “You won’t be punished for stealing Kiara’s compact.”

  But it was a sobering thought.

  “This world is very serious at times, isn’t it?”

  “What do you mean? Every world is serious at times.”

  “Well—you have such valuable possessions and grand dwellings. So the stakes are higher for everything.”

  “Yes…everyone wants something more,” he said.

  “The Great Temptation,” I murmured. “I think I understand it now.”

  “What is the Great Temptation?”

  “It’s what the merfolk call yearning for surface world things. They think it’s dangerous, almost like a sickness.”

  “You mean to tell me most mermaids don’t yearn for anything?”

  “They seem like they don’t. It’s hard to remember details, but I think they always sneered at me for scavenging.”

  “Did they ever buy the things you scavenged?”

  “Of course they did.”

  He snorted. “Of course they did, indeed.” He took my hand and squeezed it. “I think it’s good to yearn for things, myself. It keeps you alive.”

  Some tightness loosened within me, that I had hardly known was there. I had always been ashamed of wanting to see new things and meet different sorts of people. Here, it was no longer a sin.

  When the sun was sinking lower, Wrindel took me up a hill outside the city proper, to a formation of ancient stones. Some were twice as tall as I was; most set in a circle, but others placed apart. I was confident enough on my feet by now that I wandered around them, trailing my fingers on the rough texture of the stones. The light set everything aglow.

  “You can find circles like this all over the land,” he said. “They align with movements of the sun. Elves and the fair folk still worship the old gods here when the seasons turn. We’ll have festivals here, then. But I think it’s beautiful on a quiet evening when no one’s here.”

  “I saw something like this under the ocean once,” I said.

  “Built by merfolk?”

  “No, in the Flooded Lands. To the south. There is a town under the water. The merfolk don’t built anything very impressive, but they have dozens of sea gods,” I said. “They’re different every fifty miles or so.”

  “They? Don’t you mean ‘we’?”

  “Maybe. But I never felt a part of things. In the end, all the gods are the same anyway, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, now what would be the fun in that?” he said. “I think they’re different, but well acquainted.” He winked at me. “C’mere, I want you to see something else before the sun goes down.” He led me to an outcropping of rocks, and when I climbed up after him I realized I could see the entire city from here, rooftops glowing golden and spires glinting all the way to the endless ocean beyond as the sun was sinking below the horizon.

  “I never realized that you could see so much from the top of a hill!” I looked down and glimpsed a terrifying drop off, and took a quick step back, losing my balance.

  Wrindel caught me before I could fall. “Careful, sunshine. You’re all right.”

  “I feel like a god myself,” I said. “Seeing the whole city at once. We’re higher than birds!” I said, noticing a tern flying below us. I met his eyes. “This has been the most wonderful day…”

  “Well, I wanted to show you that the pleasures of Wyndyr—and becoming my princess—aren’t limited to the bedroom,” he said. “There’s a whole world to show you. A lifetime of delights.”

  “Oh, Wrin, I so want to stay.”

  “Then stay.” He tipped up my chin and gave me a chaste kiss on the lips. It was very courtly. The kiss I gave him in return was a little less so.

  “I’m glad I’m not a human,” he said. “Their gods don’t like love-making in church. But the old gods are a randy lot and it’s good luck to practice a little fertility worship…”

  “Maybe they’ll bless us with a child.” The words slipped out of my mouth, as if the place h
ad bewitched me. A child? Where had that come from?

  His face warmed, the lust in his eyes softening into something more, and I blushed. “I mean—I said that before I thought. It’s…it’s too soon for that. I don’t know if we can even… I mean, if I became a mermaid again, what would happen?”

  “We’ll deal with that if it arises,” he said. “But nothing would make me happier, Tal, not in the whole wide world. It’s not likely, though. My parents didn’t have their first child until ten years of trying, and my grandparents had the same trouble.”

  “Good,” I said. “I can throw caution to the wind.” My body yearned for him to fill me again, to feel the caress of his hands and mouth all over my newly born form. I’m sure I could not have resisted if I tried, and if it pleased the gods and it pleased us, what could be the harm?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Talwyn

  Another morning brought another sobering reminder of my situation. I wondered how long this would be my lot—to wake up confused and concerned, then to forget all about it as the day progressed. Wrindel summoned two healers to see me, a man and a woman, both tall and white-haired. They examined my head.

  “I see no signs of injury,” the woman said. “But it could have been internal. What is your name, dear?”

  “Talwyn.”

  “Your age?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “She’s older than you, your highness. You’d better listen to her,” the man joked.

  “I don’t listen to people just because they’re older than me. Ask Ithrin.”

  “Where were you born?” the woman continued.

  “That…I don’t know,” I said. “But I’m not sure I ever did. I was born in the sea, but I couldn’t tell you the village. My mother—” I started to speak, as if I remembered her, and then stopped short when I realized that I didn’t.