“Do bring some order to those hedges there, please,” he ordered, waving toward a militantly straight row of already perfectly trimmed hedges. “Their unruliness is throwing everything off kilter.”
I stared at the hedges a long while, wondering how to do a job that was already done. After lunch, I glared at the hedges some more, searching in vain for a branch or twig or leaf that had dared grow astray during the short time I was away. I scrutinized those hedges from every angle, tried to snip a little here and there, but felt I was only cutting air. I couldn’t very well report the job was done when I hadn’t really done anything.
Without warning, a wave of homesickness washed over me so completely, my shoulders sagged with sadness. I hadn’t been away a week yet, but it felt like months had passed. Trimming hedges would get me no further in rescuing Sienna, and now all I could see before me were tedious hours in the sun, working to appease a master whose standard could not be obtained. Back home, I knew what was expected of me, knew the rules for the lives we lived and my place within it; here, everything was so, well, to use a phrase I later learned, up in the air.
I exhaled, flexing the shears in my hands.
I gazed at the hedges, sizing them up.
Then I started to hum.
It wasn’t any particular song, just the sound of the sea, of an enchanted kingdom, of home. I lost myself in the melody, giving my hands leave to work they knew well while my mind and heart drifted far away to a castle standing proud in glittering cobalt tinted sand. I finished well after dusk when I was too tired and the night already too dark to examine my work. I took the shears with me and put my weary body to bed.
The next morning, I awoke early enough to check on the hedges before Marel could find anything wrong with them. But when I caught sight of what I’d done, I immediately froze, inwardly berating the unbridled foolishness of my hands and heart.
Callan and Cigny had certainly not been mentioned at any point during any of the long monologues I’d endured from Marel, and yet here they were, gleefully leaping up from the hedges. My voice had unwittingly coaxed them out, bringing their smiling forms to life one after the other as they soared over the remaining hedges, cut to resemble the rollicking waves of the sea.
I stood there stunned, unsure of how to fix what I’d done without trimming them down completely. I couldn’t regrow the hedges in time, could I? Would this ruin the carefully plotted, proudly maintained landscape? Should I be happy or terrified that my mermaid magic was so alive and well, especially away from water? I didn’t dare seek out Marel. I was too scared to move, to breathe.
As it was, Marel found me, still standing with mouth agape at the hedges I’d unintentionally shaped with music. I immediately lowered my eyes when he approached, sheepishly offering him back the shears with a sincere, “Sir, I do apologize.”
Before Marel could respond, a quick pattering of footsteps joined his on the grass. From beneath my lowered lashes, I just made out a dainty pair of shoes beneath the finely stitched hem of some very full skirts. I carefully followed them up to find Princess Cordelia looking from me to the hedges then back to me again in unrestrained awe.
“Too much, Your Highness?” I asked meekly. “Marel requested that I…fix them. I-I don’t know what came over me.”
Princess Cordelia turned a round-eyed gaze upon me. “Ariel, I awoke to the sight of two delightful dolphins frolicking in my yard and you ask if it’s too much?”
I lowered my eyes and blushed. I didn’t dare look at Marel.
“Her Highness is pleased?” Marel cautiously asked.
“Really, Marel,” Princess Cordelia admonished him good-naturedly, “don’t pretend you don’t love it, too.”
“It’s more than I expected, Princess,” he reluctantly conceded. “The details are rather fine.”
The princess waved his understatement away. “I can’t wait for Mama to see this,” she gushed. “She’ll be absolutely thrilled. Papa, too, if he’ll admit it.” The princess gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. “Heaven smiled upon us both when we met.”
My eyes stung from her kind words, and I fidgeted, not quite sure how to respond to such genuine praise of my work, not quite sure what to with such well-meaning words, how to hold them, how to take them with me. My eyes remained downcast until the princess finally walked away.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Marel grabbed my arm fiercely. “What game are you playing?” he asked harshly, rattling my bones with a strong shake for good measure. “A few pretty shapes to gain favor, a few more to take my position?”
I tried to yank my arm away but he was too strong. I glared up at him defiantly. “I’m not playing at anything,” I hissed back, then quickly changed my tone to plead for his understanding. “I’m simply looking for a place where I can be safe for a while. This is the least I can do to express gratitude to my protector.”
My response took some wind out of Marel’s whipping sails. He gently released my arm, rubbed it once in apology, then placed a finger under my chin and tilted my head up and back. He turned it from one side to another, intently searching for something only he knew how to find. Finally, he pulled down on my cheeks, pulling open my eyes for better study.
“I should have noticed,” he muttered to himself, still examining me from every angle.
For my part, I was too afraid to move. Had he figured out I was mermaid? Did he realize my tricks with a pair of garden shears were really the result of mermaid magic? If I stomped on his foot and ran toward the sea, would I make it there before he caught me?
“There’s some faery magic there,” Marel continued, “that’s for sure. Enough purple in your eyes to prove it.”
I shook my head dumbly. If the slight purple in my eyes was the only explanation he needed to explain my magic, then I would let him think what he would. A pair of vivid blue eyes sprang to mind, making me wonder if that meant Sienna had no magic left. My mind shuddered at the thought. Her tail, her tongue, her magic, what more had she sacrificed just for the chance to be human for a while?
Her dignity. Her family. Her home.
Marel handed back the shears. “If the princess is pleased with what you can do, then you best keep at it.”
I glanced up and caught the sun rising high in the morning sky. I’d have to work slower at these hedges if I wanted more time at the palace. I had no idea what I would do with myself once I’d finished all of them. Until then, however, there was someone else I had to make sure was kept happy.
I looked at Marel, his weathered skin, love and dedication to his craft set deep in his eyes and every pore of his body. “What would you recommend, sir?” I asked sincerely.
Marel’s back immediately straightened at my question. He glanced around the garden with a superior air before beckoning me to follow, which I gladly did. Remaining in his employ was important, and, admittedly, also somewhat familiar.
During dinner later that night, we were both presented before King Earwyn and Queen Edlyn who complimented us profusely on the new designs, Princess Cordelia grinning knowingly beside them. I silently and gratefully accepted their thanks, allowing Marel to take the credit for the new ideas we were slowing shaping. As I turned to leave, I was stopped by the sound of my name, though I scarce knew it at first because it sounded like the wind, like a breath of air exhaled on an ocean breeze.
“Ah-rrree-ehl?”
Hearing it more clearly the second time, I stopped mid-step and sought out the source. Turning completely, I found the prince smiling at me, a sure sign he had been the one to call. I offered him one of my rapidly-improving curtsies.
“De deescines jou creeahte,” he began, his accent an oddly soft staccato that changed each harsh syllable so it easily rolled into the next, “are soh rrreel.”
I blinked. It took a moment to decipher what he was saying because his accent was so much thicker than the others at the palace, including Marel whose accent was closer to Cordelia’s. The prince, however, sounded much more like t
he servants sweating away in the kitchens or the sailors readying ships for sea.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” I said humbly. “Marel is a master at his craft.”
The prince didn’t acknowledge my deflection. “I can hear de splahsh of de wabes, de calling of the dolpheens too eech hother.”
“The sea is rather close,” I pointed out.
The prince smiled good-naturedly. “Perhaps I am getting ahead of myself,” he admitted, his words easier to understand once I became accustomed to his accent. “Cohrrdehlya accuses me of being too much a romantic.” He chuckled at a joke only he understood. “Tell me, Ariel,” he returned his attention to me, “have you ever created a mermaid?”
Had I been drinking, I would have choked. True, Cordelia had warned me about the prince’s belief in certain types of magicals, but that hadn’t prepared me for his direct question. Granted, I didn’t recognize Cordelia’s name for a moment because of the melodic way he said it. Nor could I pretend I’d misunderstood just because his accent was so much thicker—no, richer, more exotic even—than his sister’s. I didn’t either want to admit that I could easily sculpt a mermaid in vivid detail, because any question on the detailing of my creation would not bode well for me. I was also worried that my hands might inadvertently create Sienna, which, though flattering, surely wouldn’t help in convincing her to return home.
“I create what I see,” I answered vaguely, hoping that didn’t count as another lie to the royal family that was being so unexpectedly kind to me.
“A good reason to tie you to a mast and sail you out to sea for a few days,” the prince replied.
I’m not embarrassed to admit the idea sounded rather appealing. If I had maintained my ability to garden through song, then surely I could still communicate with all manner of sea life, which would lead to my immediate return home. The prince, however, grinned widely, a very obvious and unfortunate indication that he’d only suggested the idea in jest.
I tried to match his smile with one of my own. “Be cautioned, Your Highness, for too many hours in the sun, and you may not be able to rely on what I’ll claim to have seen.”
The prince’s grin stretched even wider, but before he could say anymore, I curtsied and wished him a good evening. Just past his shoulder, I caught Sienna glaring at me. I returned her look with a blank one of my own, though inside I yelled what now? Did she resent that I’d made the prince smile, when he’d been the one to call to me? I didn’t want his attentions any more than she wanted me to have them. Despite my reasons for being there, I tried not to think of her the rest of the meal.
Later, as I stared at the life teaming on the ceiling above my bed, I studied the mermaids in the corners and marveled at how well the humans had perfected certain details on something they really shouldn’t have known so much about. Who told them our faces and torsos looked like theirs, but the rest of us did not? Was it possible one human had so correctly guessed the exact design of something most humans regarded as myth? Had merfolk cutting through rivers and lakes been careless? Or had faeries spread the word about us, pitting our lives against humans and their nets?
I stared until those mermaids filled my vision. I stared long enough to notice the coloring of the mermaids was just slightly brighter than the fish and coral along the rest of the ceiling. They looked cleaner almost, newer. I wondered at that a while, until I finally gave up and willed myself to sleep.
The next morning, a brand new pair of shears awaited me right outside my door.
I picked them up gingerly and lightly ran my fingers across the blades, appreciating the sharpness of the metal beneath my touch. They were smaller than the pair I’d wielded yesterday and felt much better in my grip. Any doubt that they were made for me vanished when I saw the small note attached, the near perfect handwriting forming but a few bold letters across the rich cream-colored paper.
Believe and you will see.
The prince really was persistent. It was unfortunate I couldn’t tell him that since he’d been saved from drowning, he’d met not just one mermaid but two: the one who nearly killed him and the one who saved his life. Or that both were presently under his very roof.
I glanced at the shears worriedly, hoping they were simply a closing gesture from his joke the night before. The princess I was grateful to, but I didn’t want anything else from the prince and would gladly avoid him as much as I could. I would speak if spoken to, but I would not go out of my way for him. He was handsome, and his candor made him somewhat charming, which, if I wasn’t careful, could be disarming. I had my own home, my own kingdom, my own life to get back to. I had to protect myself against the kindness of the people here, couldn’t risk becoming attached to any of them.
I had to be careful moving forward, especially as it seemed that in calling for home yesterday, what I had wanted most in my deep-sea life and least upon land had transpired.
Only six days here, I realized with a start, and I had already been noticed.
A few days later, I was humming to myself as I finished shaping the next set of hedges, those restrictive feet-clothes called shoes happily kicked off, when I heard a low voice pick up my melody. I was hardly surprised to find Sienna standing across from me on her much desired legs, which surely still burned enough to set fire to the entire garden.
I stood back from the hedge and gestured clumsily toward it. “Sea turtles, Your Highness,” I unnecessarily explained.
Sienna nodded absently. We stood like that a moment, admiring the nearly completed design, glancing, but not quite looking at each other. I sensed something should be said, though I wasn’t sure what, being more confident when lost in music than with words. Besides, much of my life had been spent swimming after Sienna, a dynamic force unto herself, and that was in addition to being intimidated by her charm, beauty, and arresting blue eyes. Quite honestly, I wasn’t used to being the one with the voice.
“The prince asked if I could design a mermaid,” I blurted out.
Sienna turned a questioning glance upon me.
“I’m not going to,” I said, perhaps too defensively. “I don’t think it wise to admit I know what they look like.”
Sienna tilted her head from side to side, as if to say she wouldn’t so quickly dismiss the suggestion.
“I noticed something very curious, Princess,” I carried on, the words tumbling out now. “In the room I sleep in, there are mermaids carved into the ceiling. They are curiously accurate for people who aren’t supposed to have ever seen them. Not so well, at least.”
Sienna offered me a mysterious smile, then pointed a thumb at herself.
“That was your room, too?” I guessed. “Fitting, I suppose.”
Sienna nodded again then motioned for me to keep talking. I looked at her in confusion, unsure of what else I was supposed to say. Frustrated, she pointed purposely at herself then made a writing motion in the air. It took a moment for me to catch on to what she was saying, probably because my mind didn’t want to believe it.
“You drew them?” I asked aghast.
She pointed toward the palace then made the drawing motion again.
“They drew,” I amended. “You corrected them.”
Sienna nodded.
“Why would they believe you?” I wanted to know, ignoring the impudence of my question.
Sienna opened her mouth to show me the tongue that wasn’t there. She pointedly blinked her eyes once, then gestured to her mouth.
“You told them you saw one…and that’s how you lost your tongue?”
Sienna shrugged, indicating that’s just how things were. My hand reached out to grab her, to knock some reason into her water-clogged mind, before I remembered myself and let it fall uselessly back to my side. Even like this, she was still my princess. Even if she had first betrayed, then slandered our people. Even if she was sharing secrets we’d guarded for millennia.
“Why would you do that?” I pressed. “Your father would be furious if he knew.”
Si
enna fixed me with a defiant look, then raised an eyebrow as if to ask what the harm could be. Surely, I didn’t think anyone actually believed what she’d drawn. Surely, it didn’t matter what humans thought of merfolk if they would never really see them anyway.
And yet I had seen the mermaids added to the ceiling. Maybe no one would ever know how accurate most of the details were, but it wasn’t really about that. Knowing that we had tails instead of legs, or arms instead of fins was not really a secret but knowing Sienna had broken our trust just because she had a pair of legs would hurt our people more than she imagined.
My thoughts must have played across my face, because soon Sienna was motioning quite emphatically at her legs, and the ground beneath them.
“You can’t mean that, Princess,” I said, shaking my head at her, trying to dispel an image I couldn’t un-see. “You’re a mermaid. You can’t run from it.”
Sienna furiously shook her head in return and it took all my will to keep from grabbing both her arms and shaking her until she would let some sense in. How could she be so fixated on the prince and not notice that he hardly saw her? How could she so deny something I had sensed in only a few days at the palace? How could she be so adamant about remaining human, a second-class being of second-class status, when Tatiana had agreed to let her return to her former favored self?
She jabbed a finger at me then fired it toward the sea, the force of her actions making her meaning quite clear.
I knew I was supposed to be nice to her, I knew kindness was the way to win her over, but I couldn’t hold myself back then. “If you’re so human, then why must you soak your legs in the sea every night?” I snapped.
Sienna’s eyes widened, then narrowed to shoot poisoned barbs at me. Without another sound, she spun and fled from me, the heaviness of her breath reassuring me that my words had hit home. She raised her hand to her eyes and I wondered in shock if she was crying real tears. Her eyes were most definitely lacking the magical purple hue of mine, but that wasn’t proof that she was entirely human, was it? She couldn’t be, not if Tatiana could restore her. And yet.
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