Beautiful to Me

by E. L. Tenenbaum

  Right. Sienna couldn’t talk.

  What would they have assumed? Shipwreck? Abandonment? How far should I push my tale? Too many details and I wouldn’t remember them all, increasing the chances I’d eventually be caught in a lie.

  “My aunt,” I began, then paused and swallowed. Was this really the path I wanted to go down? I couldn’t think of anything else but was sure I needed something vague yet still sympathetic. A small grain of truth. “My aunt,” I said again, “sent me from her house. Without a thing.”

  The princess’s lips pursed in disapproval. “Where are your parents?” she wanted to know.

  I shook my head and she nodded in understanding. I couldn’t bring myself to say that my parents, even in this story, were dead, but I could lead her to understand it.

  “Why did she send you away?” the princess asked, but though her words were soft, something sharp lurked beneath them.

  “She-She-She never liked me,” I finally said. “And now she thinks I’ll steal her daughter’s suitors, but it was her own actions that sent them away!” I added for good measure, though one glance at me should have told anyone that I could not be capable of such things.

  “What is her name? This aunt,” the princess asked.

  I widened my eyes and tried to conjure the most terrified expression I could. “Please don’t send me back,” I whispered fiercely. “Please don’t.”

  The princess nodded and studied me with her black, black eyes. Suddenly, I knew why they looked so familiar, they were much the same as those of the prince I’d saved from a raging sea. I had no idea which direction she’d been traveling in, but I was absolutely certain now that I had to stay with her.

  I allowed my body to slacken and made as if I would faint. I didn’t really have to pretend, my body felt tired enough to have just swum from one end of the ocean to another, and it was still only morning. Seeing as I might fall back, the servants sprang forward to catch me.

  “What will you do with her, Princess?” asked one of the women.

  The princess watched me closely as I feigned the motions of losing consciousness. “I’m not sure yet,” she answered carefully. “But it seems I am responsible for her, for the time being.”

  She nodded at someone I couldn’t see, then a pair of strong arms lifted me and walked me over to the carriage. The door was opened and I was helped inside, made comfortable across the bench on one side while the princess took up her seat opposite me with the two women crammed on either end.

  “She has the loveliest eyes,” I overheard one of them say, and the princess simply nodded in agreement.

  The carriage jolted forward as we made our way to the palace. I watched the women across from me through the slit of my supposedly lovely eyes until I could no longer fight the carriage’s gentle rocking and gave in to my exhaustion.

  And that was how Her Royal Highness Princess Cordelia Gennyver Orabel of Maridonia became my very first human friend.

  I awoke some time later in a downy soft bed that felt like a nest of sun-warmed sand. My body felt uncharacteristically heavy, my limbs oddly stiff and sore. The only reassurance was that my legs no longer burned, the pain had since subsided giving me leave to explore my new appendages. They seemed strong beneath my touch, and it would take some time for the marvel to dim at all the things they could do. Even after well over two hundred years, I miss my tail but am appreciative of the pair of legs I received in its stead.

  I slid backward to prop myself up against the mountain of pillows looming over my head. I moved slowly, carefully, not quite certain of what awaited me. I was now wearing a thin, silky dress which made me feel rather clumsy, entangled as I was in so much material, yet I was grateful for how much of my body it covered. In the years to follow, I have since become comfortable in what I once thought were unbearable layers of clothing, though there are enough times I must kick off my stockings and shoes to walk barefoot awhile.

  The room was cozy, decorated with a fine elegance that made it clear the owner was wealthy. I glanced up and caught sight of my home carved into the ceiling above me. It wasn’t quite King Trident’s amber-windowed castle, but along the edges curled the coral reefs of the sea. Triggerfish, angelfish, wrasse, and rays, clownfish, butterflyfish, tangs, and even a few eels poked their heads in and out along the length, right up to each corner where a single graceful mermaid held court with flowing hair and a handful of pearls, of all things. All in all, the artistry was quite good, even if some important details were missing.

  I wrenched my gaze away and took in the rest of the room. Along one wall were tall windows propped open to welcome in a refreshingly salty breeze. Through them, I could just make out the reassuring blue of the ocean sparkling in the sun just beyond the palace grounds. Aside from the bed I currently occupied, there was also a writing desk, small nightstand, and two chairs in the room. I jumped from fright when I saw the princess sitting in one of them, watching me with the same scrutiny she had in the carriage. She nodded slightly upon seeing me awake. For my part, I had no idea what to say to her, so I sat there trying not to stare, not quite sure what was expected of me. It seemed I had gotten myself into the palace, quite easily after all, but I would also have to persuade Her Royal Highness to let me stay long enough to do my job.

  After too long an uncomfortable silence, the princess finally spoke.

  “Do you have a name?” she asked.

  “Ariel,” I replied.

  “Ariel,” she said slowly, trying to mimic my pronunciation despite the way her accent softened the letters. “And I’m Princess Cordelia.”

  She added the last line as an afterthought, as if I certainly knew who she was so the introduction was only a courtesy. I didn’t care why. As far as she knew, I was a subject of her land, or even a close neighbor’s. I was just grateful I wouldn’t have to figure out a way to ask for something I was supposed to know.

  “Thank you, Princess, for your hospitality,” I said humbly.

  Even if she were to throw me out of the palace right then, something I would go to great lengths to avoid, I was still grateful to her for the chance to get in a good rest and my wits back together. My eyes searched out the mermaids above me again.

  The princess followed my gaze. “Mermaids,” she unnecessarily commented.

  I nodded, my throat was feeling thick again, but this was a more familiar feeling. A wave of sadness washed over me, and I felt ready to cry. I blinked as furiously as I could, pushing back the stinging sensation that wouldn’t be relieved through the release of tears, because none would come. Mermaids, magical creatures that we are, can’t shed tears.

  “Do you believe in mermaids?” the princess suddenly asked.

  What an odd question, was my first thought, before I remembered how we made sure to keep well enough to ourselves. Prominent faeries and other magicals saw us once or twice a year at Conclave, but definitely not regular humans. We sang to any regular human that caught sight of us, to protect ourselves and the enchanted secrets of the sea. And now, two of us had washed ashore to this very palace. I forced a noncommittal expression and gave a half shrug that wasn’t really an answer either way.

  The princess offered me a half smile. “I don’t, not unless I ever see one,” she said with certainty, “and so said my brother until the night he nearly drowned when he went overboard during a storm. There are some faeries who claim to be on rather good terms with them, though.”

  The princess leaned closer and peered into my eyes. “Are you one of them?”

  For a moment, I was taken aback by her acuity. Then I remembered Tatiana assuming I’d look faery-like to humans.

  I kept my face carefully blank and shook my head. Also, as a supposed subject of the kingdom, I wasn’t sure how much I was supposed to know about that fateful night, though I already knew too much. I figured no reaction was the best one.

  “He’s a very strong swimmer, yet he swears someone helped him to shore,” the princess continued with a derisive roll of h
er eyes.

  “Perhaps it was another sailor, Your Highness,” I ventured.

  The princes gave a short, shaky laugh. “One who sang like an angel?” she questioned. “I doubt it.” She paused a moment. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

  I shrugged again and gave her a careful smile, one I hoped was both understanding and deferential. “Perhaps I wasn’t the only one shaken up by the events of this morning, Your Highness?” I offered cautiously.

  The princess nodded. “Perhaps.”

  She fell into silent contemplation, before fixing me with a piercing glare that said she expected nothing but the truth or it would be my head. “You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” she pointed out, “and this aunt of yours, does she really exist?”

  If King Trident was the ruler of all Merdom, then in many ways he was a like a father to all his subjects. Tatiana, as his only equal, was therefore akin to his sister, making her an aunt to me, of a sort. And she had sent me away from the only home I’d ever known without a thing.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” I said with conviction.

  I suppose I could have invented some story about looking for my mute sister, but there was no way to know how it would go over because I hadn’t yet seen Sienna. I didn’t either know what type of information had been exchanged between her and the royal family, so I figured it was better I have a story and identity of my own, nothing that would link me to the other washed up girl that had come to their steps barely a month ago.

  “And has she really sent you away?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where were you raised?” the princess continued her interrogation. “You don’t speak like a commoner, but you don’t sound like the rest of us either.”

  “In a court—” I began, then stopped myself and shook my head. Any more information and I’d have to start giving names I didn’t know. “I’m not from this land, Your Highness,” I finally settled for, hoping that would be enough to keep her from inquiring into the courts of her noblemen and finding out that I didn’t really exist.

  “Why were you by the water?” she next wanted to know. “You didn’t think to—”

  She didn’t finish her question, but her expression said it. What was the right answer here? If I said I had indeed planned to drown myself, would that arouse her pity or her ire? Could a mermaid drown, even if she now appeared human?

  I shook my head. “My aunt forced me from her ship, Your Highness,” I finally said. “It was the furthest place she could imagine to leave me.”

  The princess nodded again, though I couldn’t be quite certain how much, if any, of my story she believed. Looking like a faery either made my story more believable or made greater allowance for personal secrets. I didn’t want to worry about such things then and refocused on my goal. Rescue Sienna. But how to ask about her if I wasn’t supposed to know she was here?

  “What do you plan on doing with yourself, Ariel?” the princess questioned.

  “I-I’m not sure,” I replied honestly. “I can’t go where I’m not wanted. I may have to find work… or something.”

  “Do you have any skills?” the princess immediately asked, the relief at my suggestion, and solution to her dilemma with what to do with me, audible in her voice.

  Did I? Despite reassurances that most of me would remain the same, how did I know that some things hadn’t been lost in my transformation? Even so, what if all I could do as a mermaid held little value to humans on land? Then my mind settled on the one ability I had any confidence in, and I hoped to the life-giving Heaven that I would choose right.

  “I can garden,” I offered. “Somewhat. I…sing, sort of, though I…don’t like to.”

  The princess thought a little more, before nodding at a dress draped over the second chair. “Put that on, then come join me,” she instructed.

  I glanced at the dress, then tried not to look down at my body. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I looked back at the princess but didn’t dare look her in the eye.

  “What is it?” she wanted to know.

  “Your Highness, um, I’m not quite certain that dress will fit,” I mumbled.

  The princess didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll send in a seamstress to help you.”

  Then she left me alone in the room to wonder about just what it was I had gotten myself into.

  Less than an hour later, a supremely talented seamstress managed to alter the dress enough for me to cram my body in without ripping any seams. I avoided looking in the mirror as long as I could, instead going along with whatever the seamstress said in the hopes that she would simply keep working and release me from that infernal device soon. I dared only look fully in the mirror once, and that was only after she was entirely finished.

  It was a quick glance, but enough to confirm that not much had really changed about me. My frame was still unflattering, my skin still ghostly white, my hair still too limp and dark. The only change was in my eyes, which had taken on a slight lavender tint since leaving the water. I’d never spent much time in front of a mirror, but it had been enough to know that my eyes were actually blue. The new blend of purple and blue was actually quite lovely, and framed as they were by my long, dark lashes, I anointed them my one remarkable feature.

  Soon enough I would learn that purple eyes were the mark of a magical on land. When I heard that, I knew for certain Tatiana had spoken true, I was, and would always remain, a mermaid.

  That fitting, and the few that initially followed, was part of some of my first experiences on land that I would rather forget. Even as a mermaid who wore a netted shirt to cover my decidedly not mermaid-like frame, I never really had to worry about sizes or clothing or anything other than how much of my torso I actually wanted seen. The necessity of having to actually dress my body introduced a whole other list of worries into my life.

  But I wouldn’t be distracted by that just yet. First, I had to figure out how to stay in the palace long enough to find Sienna and convince her to return to the sea before her father sent a tsunami to wipe out her beloved’s home and family.

  A servant came for me once I was dressed and led me down a maze of hallways more tangled than a seaweed forest until we came upon Princess Cordelia’s private chambers. My mind couldn’t process much of what I was seeing that first day, but it did catch enough to pick up that the entire palace had been designed with the sea in mind. The artistry on the ceiling of my room was just the beginning, too; throughout were displays of large, intact seashells, sculptures of leaping porpoises, fountains with whales spouting water instead of breath, paintings of glowing seashores, giant ships in bottles, tapestries and engravings teaming with life from above and below the sea’s surface. They were absolutely incredible, vivid both in color and detail, a simultaneous tug at and balm for my homesick heart. There was an enormous array of fish tanks as well, some cleverly tucked into walls or acting as supports for tables, while others wove their way about a room, humbly decorating it with colorful offerings of saltwater fish. Until I left my adopted home, gazing at any of those long enough would firmly yank my heart toward the place of my birth.

  One thing that stood out from all, one thing that appeared remarkable even surrounded by so many pieces from my home, was little bits of the most incredible glass I’d ever seen. Even now, I can hardly find words to describe the way they gathered in light, only to send it back out again as a much brighter, prettier burst of color.

  “What—?” I gestured, unable to finish my sentence.

  The servant eyed me. “Castarrean glass, miss,” he informed me, his tone surprised I didn’t already know.

  “But where does it come from?” I pressed.

  The servant puffed out his chest. “Prince Arlando himself created it.”

  I nodded dumbly, not yet understanding the significance of his answer.

  When I reached her chambers, the princess was taking tea on a small private terrace overlooking the sea, of course. I was invited to take the sea
t opposite her, but not before mimicking the curtsy I had seen the maid who announced my arrival give her. I realized then how careful I must be in every manner of my behavior. Claiming I came from a different land still meant that I came from a kingdom on land, and there were only so many customs for which I could feign ignorance. There were also enough things I had heard about but never actually seen for myself, and it would take some time for my knowledge to be rightly connected with all the new things around me. Not that the funny way humans pronounced things was much help at first. In this particular instance, I was glad I had caught the curtsy, because although I had been raised in a royal court and was familiar with that type of protocol, mermaids don’t have legs to curtsy with, so we all bow.

  I won’t pretend that I executed the curtsy with any real grace, but I hoped it would be blamed on nerves.

  By then, having rested and taken the time to pull myself together, my body let me know how hungry it was, but I held back from touching anything before the princess did. Even then, I didn’t take anything until she specifically invited me to. Different as it was, at least the fare they served here was far better than Tatiana’s. Thinking of the sea witch made me think about how she was probably watching me right then in her pearl, muttering to herself about unfortunate souls, which did nothing to help my uneasiness. I promptly spilled my tea.

  “Careful!” the princess exclaimed.

  “Oh, dear. Excuse me,” I muttered through lowered lashes, dabbing in vain at the wet mark spreading on my leg. I forced my eyes back up to my benefactor. “I apologize for ruining your dress, Princess,” I told her sincerely.

  The princess waved her hand and the incident away. “Never mind about that,” she said graciously. “You’ll need new dresses anyway if you are to stay here.”

  That caught my attention. I raised hopeful eyes. “I can stay?”