Princess of Mermaids

by A. G. Marshall

  The burning in her throat spread through her body and settled in her fin. The pain grew stronger until it felt like a thousand knives were stabbing and slicing her tail. Fiora writhed on the rock and nearly fell into the water. She tried to stop singing and reverse the enchantment, but it was far too late for that.

  The shell hadn’t mentioned that the transformation was torture. Maybe it wasn’t for full-blooded mermaids. Maybe this was like the oysters but a thousand times worse.

  Or maybe the pain was described on the second shell.

  Tears streamed down Fiora’s cheeks as the stabbing spread from her bones to her skin. She had once seen a chef scrape the scales off a fish with a knife. It felt like someone was doing that to her now, but they hadn’t had the decency to cut her head off first.

  Fiora sank into the water and stared at the sky, willing the screaming in her head to stop. Another burst of agony spread across her neck. Fiora tried to massage it away and realized her gills had disappeared. She breathed deeply through her mouth, and the air eased the burning in her lungs.

  The stabbing sensation in her bones slowly faded away. Her skin felt raw, but the worst of the pain had gone. Fiora clung to the rock and lifted her right foot out of the water. Her skin was smooth and clear. It showed no sign of damage from the magic and searing pain.

  Fiora wiggled her toes and tried to stand, but her legs shook too badly to hold her weight. A wave pushed her against the rock, and Fiora clung to it to avoid being swept out into the open water as the wave receded. She would drown if she fell into the sea before she recovered her strength enough to swim.

  The seagull hopped down and pecked at the ink again. Fiora yelled at it, but no sound came out.

  That wasn’t good.

  Fiora screamed, but only managed to produce a soft burst of air. She tried to sing. To speak. To hum.

  Silence.

  Had the magic taken her voice?

  She hoped that was the last surprise from the enchantment.

  Fiora straightened her legs and swatted the bird away. She stood still, panting, as her legs steadied and the ringing in her ears settled. Fiora dug her toes into the sand and grinned. Even if they were shaky, she had legs again.

  She was human again!

  And she was naked.

  Of course the mermaids hadn’t bothered to mention that the charm didn’t include clothes. They never wore them.

  Fiora shook away the mental image of Madame Isla walking naked into a human town and declaring that she had come to study them.

  It was entirely possible that had happened at some point, but that was the least of Fiora’s worries.

  She lowered herself into the water and arranged her hair over her shoulders. At least it was long enough to cover her chest.

  There was nothing she could do about clothes now. She would have to stay in the water until nightfall then sneak to a farmhouse and steal something from a laundry line.

  The thought of creeping through someone’s farm naked made Fiora’s face burn with embarrassment, but what choice did she have? She would find some clothes and mark the place so she could repay them later.

  Repay them with what? She had nothing. Fiora tried to sigh, but it came out as a small puff of air. She hummed, testing her voice again.

  Nothing happened.

  She tried to speak, but her lungs began to burn. She pressed her lips together in a grim line.

  So, the enchantment took her voice.

  At least she still had her life.

  Fiora poured squid ink into her hands and worked it through her hair. A seagull dove for the bottle, and Fiora slapped him away. The ink on her fingers left black spots on his feathers. The seagull craned his head, trying to eat the ink off his back, but he couldn’t reach.

  It served him right.

  Fiora silently giggled at his antics as she continued dying her hair. She decided to call him Spot since he was now spotted with ink stains. If he was going to keep her company while she sat naked in the water, he should have a name.

  The hair treatment was a messy business, but Fiora grinned when she finally finished and looked at her reflection in the sea. She barely recognized herself without her bright red hair. If she was discovered, it was unlikely that anyone would know her by her face alone.

  Her hair had always been her most distinguishing feature. The only thing about her anyone remembered.

  Her stomach growled, and Fiora glared up at the castle. They were probably eating breakfast right now and marveling at King Gustave’s lucky escape.

  She’d have to find a way to get food once she had clothes. She could find work somewhere. Perhaps offer her sewing services to a local seamstress in exchange for a meal.

  She was so hungry. Fiora tried to drink the remainder of the squid ink and gagged on it. She’d rather go hungry than finish that.

  Spot squawked hopefully, so Fiora poured the rest of the ink on a rock for him. He pecked at it, dying his beak black in the process, then began to groom himself. This streaked even more dye through his feathers. More seagulls landed on the rock. Most of the birds looked the same, but Spot stood out now with his unusual markings.

  Fiora scrubbed the ink off her hands and put her pearl ring back on her finger. Then she glared at the sun. It was just rising above the horizon. This was going to be a long day.

  She leaned against the rock, making herself as comfortable as she could. As impatient and hungry and thirsty as she was, she had no choice but to stay put. It would still be risky, but there far was less chance of being caught if she waited until dark.

  The last thing she wanted was to try explaining why she was wandering around Montaigne naked.

  That would be difficult enough with words. It would be impossible without them.

  18

  “Your Majesty, where are you?”

  The voices were faint, but they were getting closer. The soldier’s deep shouts mixed with high-pitched squeals that suggested some of the women had come looking for him as well.

  Gustave groaned. The sea air had cleared his head, and he realized he had been horribly inconsiderate. He needed to apologize to everyone. That was the mature, responsible, kingly thing to do.

  “He’s going to dance with me,” Lady Annabelle said, her defiant voice carried on the wind. “I don’t care if he thinks he’s in love with someone else, he’s going to dance with me!”

  Then again, perhaps apologizing could wait a little longer. Gustave turned away from the castle and walked further down the beach. He rounded a corner so that trees would hide him from view and stopped to examine his surroundings.

  Large rocks jutted out from the water, looking like small mountainous islands just off the shore. Waves crashed against them, and seagulls perched on the jagged surfaces while they waited for something edible to float their way.

  A seagull streaked with black flew over to Gustave to beg for food. He ignored the bird until it gave up hope and flew back to one of the boulders in the water. It seemed very interested in that particular rock.

  More birds had landed on the rock and watched something with interest. It was probably just a dead fish, but Gustave’s curiosity got the better of him. He left the cover of the trees and walked towards the water to get a better look.

  His head pounded as the wind roared in his ears. Maybe he should have listened to Doctor Batiste and stayed in bed.

  Then Gustave saw a hand clinging to the rock and completely forgot about his headache.

  He ran to the water’s edge and squinted into the sun, trying to see. A wave swept over the rock, and the hand disappeared. Water lapped at the toes of Gustave’s boots as he leaned closer.

  “Hello? Is someone there?”

  Another wave washed against the stone, and the water receded a little. Just enough for Gustave to see the outline of someone’s head.

  “Hello?”

  Whoever it was didn’t answer. She clung to the stone and stayed very still. Gustave moved closer, hardly noticing that
he was ankle-deep in the ocean.

  The woman slid back, trying to hide behind the rock.

  Maybe it was her. A wisp of smoke wrapped around his thoughts, reminding him he was in love and looking for the woman who had disappeared

  Then a wave filled Gustave’s boots with water, and the smoke cleared.

  It was definitely a woman. The outstretched arm clinging to the rock was decidedly feminine. But she was in shadows, so he couldn’t tell much more than that.

  “Are you in trouble?”

  Gustave’s heart raced. What if there had been another shipwreck or kraken attack? Why else would a human be clinging to a rock in the ocean?

  Or maybe it was a mermaid?

  “Kathelin, is that you?”

  Silence.

  “Do you need help?”

  Still nothing.

  If it was Kathelin, surely she would have spoken by now. It could be a different mermaid. Perhaps Althea? Gustave wasn’t particularly eager to speak with her, but at this point he would take whatever contact with the mermaids he could get. They knew something about his father. They had to.

  He waded deeper into the ocean, not caring that it would ruin his trousers. The woman slid further around the rock, still trying to hide.

  Why wouldn’t she speak?

  “My name is Gustave. You can trust me.”

  The water was well past Gustave’s knees now. He stopped wading and wiped sweat from his brow. What if this was a trap? What if whoever had taken his father was after him as well?

  A large wave swept the water up to Gustave’s thighs and pushed the woman higher against the rock. Then it retreated, exposing the woman’s shoulders. Her skin was white and smooth with no sign of scales.

  She ducked down and cast a nervous glance in his direction.

  Gustave stepped back. She was human after all. And naked. No wonder she was hiding from him. She was trying to have a peaceful morning swim, and he was yelling at her about mermaids.

  “I am so sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  Gustave covered his eyes to show he meant her no harm, then turned away and walked back to shore. He searched the beach for her clothes but saw nothing. Had someone stolen them? Had a current pushed her further down the beach than she planned to swim?

  He glanced in her direction. She peered at him from behind the rock. Dark hair clung to her skin, and her enormous blue eyes were wide with alarm.

  “I’m going to take off my cloak and leave it for you,” Gustave said. “You can come to shore and put it on. I’ll turn around until you tell me you’re ready.”

  He removed his cloak, spread it on the sand, and turned to stare into the forest. Would she take his offer? Was she moving? He listened, but whatever sound she made was lost in the waves and wind.

  How had she ended up naked on a rock in the ocean? This beach wasn’t exactly his property, but most locals treated it as part of the castle grounds. They certainly didn’t swim here.

  Someone called his name in the distance, and Gustave flushed. If they found him now, it would be very difficult to explain what he was doing on the beach with a naked woman. His grandmother would have plenty to say about it, not to mention everyone else.

  Gustave narrowed his eyes. Was this part of some scheme to see him married? What exactly would happen if he was discovered right now? Would they insist he marry the girl to save her honor?

  He fought the urge to turn around and closed his eyes instead. They couldn’t force him to do anything if he didn’t see anything. What was taking her so long? What if she didn’t want the cloak and was still hiding behind the rock? How could he know if she didn’t tell him?

  Someone touched Gustave’s shoulder, and he whirled around, ready to run for his life if necessary. He meant to keep his eyes closed, but they opened as his defenses kicked in.

  The girl stared at him with enormous blue eyes. She had wrapped his cloak around herself, and her long, dark hair fell over her shoulders. A few wet strands clung to her face, contrasting with her pale skin.

  Her expression relieved Gustave’s suspicions. She didn’t look like she was part of a scheme. She looked terrified and cold and alone. Her blue eyes held something familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

  “Are you in trouble?”

  Something in the back of Gustave’s mind warned him that he would be the one in trouble if he wasn’t careful. He was in love with someone else. He shouldn’t be chatting with naked women on beaches.

  Gustave pushed the thought aside. For all he knew, this was the love of his life. Her face was familiar, and her blue eyes fit what he remembered. Her hair was the wrong color though.

  The fog swept through his mind, filling it with memories of red hair and a sweet song.

  The song. Gustave didn’t trust his memories of his love’s appearance since it had been dark, but he remembered her voice. The woman watched him with a wary expression and said nothing.

  “Can you speak?” Gustave asked.

  Irritation flashed through the woman’s eyes, and she shook her head.

  Gustave tried not to let his disappointment show. If she couldn’t speak, then she wasn’t the one he was looking for. Her irritated expression reminded him of someone, but the fog clouded his head when he tried to remember who.

  “Have we met before?”

  Was it Gustave’s imagination, or did she hesitate before she shook her head? He squinted, trying to get a better look at her face. She ducked her head as if embarrassed, and Gustave looked away as well. It was rude to stare, even under such circumstances.

  Especially under such circumstances.

  Voices echoed down the beach, and the woman shifted as if she meant to run.

  “Don’t go,” Gustave said. “I can help you.”

  She smiled at him. A tiny, half smile that disappeared in a moment. She met his eyes again, then looked quickly away.

  Gustave looked down at the sand and realized that his cloak only covered her to her knees. He pulled his eyes away when he realized he was staring at her ankles and bare feet. Blast it all, where was he supposed to look? He stared at the sky for a few moments before turning his gaze back to the woman’s face. Her mouth quirked upward, and her eyes crinkled.

  Did she find his distress amusing?

  “I don’t live far from here. I’m sure my sister has a dress you can borrow.”

  She frowned at that. Why?

  “Or if you live nearby, I can escort you home.”

  She shook her head. Was she saying she didn’t live nearby? Or that she didn’t want to go home?

  “You’re sure you can’t speak?”

  Her scowl deepened, and she raised an eyebrow. Gustave swallowed, feeling like an idiot.

  “I’m so sorry. It would just be easier if you could.”

  Her expression said she was well aware of that fact. Honestly, she had the most expressive eyes.

  But the lack of voice meant she wasn’t the one. It meant he couldn’t even learn her name.

  Names. Other than yelling at her from across the beach, he hadn’t introduced himself.

  “Oh, forgive my lack of manners. I’m Gustave.”

  He offered his hand, realized she would have to let go of the cloak to take it, and quickly pulled it away. Her mouth quirked upwards again. Blast it all, she was laughing at him!

  “Your Majesty, are you there?”

  Lady Annabelle’s voice cut through the air, and Gustave groaned. He should have known she would find him eventually.

  “I’m King Gustave, actually. Of Montaigne.”

  He might as well get the royal title out of the way. There would be no hiding it once the mob found him.

  She didn’t look surprised. Perhaps she was local after all and had already recognized him.

  There was no point in delaying his inevitable discovery. His only other alternative was to run and hide in the woods with the naked woman, which would definitely not help his plans to avoid romantic entanglements unt
il he found his father.

  Collette and Lady Annabelle rounded the corner first. They stopped in their tracks and stared at Gustave and the girl. A group of guards followed them and did the same.

  “I found her in the water,” Gustave said. “I think she’s in some sort of trouble.”

  They all blinked at him. Collette recovered first.

  “Are you well, miss? What happened to you?”

  The naked woman ducked her head. Was she frightened of Collette? That made no sense.

  “She can’t speak,” Gustave said.

  “Of course she can speak! She is simply preying on Your Highness’s compassion,” Lady Annabelle said.

  Her shrill voice made Gustave grit his teeth. The dark-haired girl drew the cloak tighter around her shoulders and glared at Annabelle. She seemed more offended by this accusation than the comment warranted.

  “We’ll take her back to the castle and get her settled,” Gustave said. “We can sort out the details once she’s comfortable.”

  “Gustave, is that wise?” Collette asked. “We don’t know anything about her.”

  He blinked at his sister.

  “I thought you of all people would be eager to help,” he signed.

  “Respectable ladies don’t show up naked on beaches. This seems suspicious.”

  Collette’s face said she considered the matter settled. Gustave did as well. Just in the opposite direction.

  “She’s coming back to the castle with us. The least we can do is give her a dress.”

  He would have helped the girl anyway, but the outraged expressions on Lady Annabelle’s face made it doubly worth it.

  “Perhaps she doesn’t want to come,” Lady Annabelle said. “I’m sure her clothes are here somewhere.”

  She gestured vaguely to the beach as if this would make clothes appear. The woman smirked and shook her head. Then she shifted her grip on the cloak so she could hold it with one hand and offered the other to Gustave. He held out his arm, and she rested her hand lightly against it.

  They walked up the pathway together. The woman stumbled on a rock, and Gustave caught her arm as she fell. She stared at him with enormous blue eyes, and a memory tried to surface.