Beautiful to Me

by E. L. Tenenbaum

  “Away! Away!” I continued to yell.

  The box jellyfish finally slunk away, but the damage had been done. The poison was in the princess’s blood. I’d seen enough to know that Tatiana had spoken true when she said I’d always remain a mermaid even in my human form, and only merfolk had the magic to save a human from a box jellyfish’s lethal sting. If I was fast enough.

  I tugged at the princess until she was fully underwater, already slipping out of consciousness so I really had to act quickly before she drowned, or someone pulled her out before I was done. I found the entry point of the sting and pressed my hand to it, willing the poison out of her blood. I pressed further and hummed a quick tune, feeling the warmth of healing magic flow from my body to hers. She was already near paralysis, but I prayed I’d reached her in time. I begged the sea to listen to my call.

  I shot out of the water and pulled the princess up after me, half walking, half dragging her to the shore. Her ladies’ cries had brought her guards running, and one of them splashed straight into the water to catch her from my trembling grasp, unmindful that he was still fully dressed and much of his clothes would be ruined. He lifted the princess in his arms and strode toward the palace, setting a pace I could hardly match, even if I’d been faster on my feet.

  “Jellyfish,” I gasped alongside him, already losing ground though we’d scarce reached the palace steps. “Not poisonous.” I hope, not anymore, I prayed, then fell back into the onrushing group gasping for breath.

  Lucky for me, I was swept along with the princess’s worried entourage, though I wasn’t fast enough to make it into her private chambers before the doors shut her quite firmly inside. Still dripping water, I paced the length of the floor in front of her chamber, looking for all the world like a guard who didn’t quite know his duty.

  At some point, the king, queen, and prince appeared and were hastily admitted inside. At another, a servant emerged to offer me a towel and hot drink, which I accepted but didn’t take the time to enjoy. I saw a Healer come and go, as well as the haggard guard who’d lifted the princess from the sea.

  I don’t know how much time passed before the door to the princess’s chambers finally creaked open and the prince wearily stepped outside.

  I rushed over and barely remembered to drop a curtsy. “How is she, Your Highness?”

  It took a moment for the prince’s eyes to find me. A sad smile snuck across his lips. “She will recover,” he nodded, “many thanks to you.”

  “Highness?”

  “The Healer says there’ll be a rash and lingering pain, but thank Heaven she is okay,” he continued.

  Having said those words, the prince closed his eyes and unintentionally swayed a little. My hand automatically shot out to keep him from falling. Feeling it, the prince opened one eye and peered over at me, letting me know with a small smile that he would forgive my forwardness. He patted my hand absently as he carefully leaned against the wall, then wearily slid down against it. He gently pulled me down with him, keeping my hand in his.

  “She really scared us,” the prince said, his eyes still closed to reality. “Cordelia’s too sensible for such things, I’m usually the one causing trouble.”

  I struggled to find the right words to give him. Sickness, especially caused by another creature of the sea, was very rare in Merdom. I was unused to this sense of worry, unsure of this cloud of death hovering near someone so young.

  “I’m glad the princess is all right,” I finally said.

  The prince rolled his head against the wall so he could face me. “Why would a jellyfish even think to sting her?” he asked.

  There were a lot of answers I could have given him, though it took me a few beats to realize he wasn’t expecting any. I’m sure that even if I had responded, he was too spent at that time to question anything I would’ve said. Either way, it wasn’t my place to speak for the sea.

  Quite unexpectedly, my heart went out to the prince and his family. I wouldn’t have admitted it before that moment, but I was slightly jealous of the prince and his sister, of the easy way they spoke with each other, how they loved to tease and laugh together. They reminded me so much of Callan and Cigny. I felt it strongest that moment in the corridor, because sitting beside the prince, his face drawn with fear for his younger sister, I realized how much I missed out on not having a sibling. My parents loved me because they had given me life, but a sibling would love me because we belonged to each other. It was the first time I thought about how lucky humans were because they didn’t need special permission to have whatever size families they wanted. I could never live in the capital if I wanted my children to grow up with siblings. The idea both thrilled and frightened me.

  “I never had a sister,” I whispered, spurred to speak by the thoughts circling my head.

  I wasn’t sure if the prince even heard me, because he didn’t react at first. “I would think,” he said slowly, “that will change after today.”

  If I could have cried then, I would have. It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to me, made all the more so after the intensity of the last few hours. Since coming to the palace, I’d received more kindness, more recognition and appreciation, than in my fifteen years in the sea. Frankly, I didn’t quite know what to make of it. On the one hand, it seemed this was only because all the things that were ordinary in my kingdom made me extraordinary in this one.

  On the other hand, well, on the other hand, maybe these humans were just kind people after all. Maybe there was something to be said for the souls they had and the things they could say and do because of their design. However, that wasn’t enough to side with Sienna just yet. No matter the makeup of these humans, I still firmly believed that I, and the other merfolk, had souls, too. We too made decisions in our behaviors every day, we too trusted and believed and hoped and prayed.

  The prince dragged me out of my thoughts before I could drift too far away.

  “Ariel…” he sighed softly, dragging out each syllable of my name, his head back, eyes closed, heart at once heavy and relieved, “Please sing. Please?”

  I would have refused as I had before, but there was something in the way he asked, something in the way he sat there in the flickering candlelight seeking to find solace after the fright with his sister that made me relent. I picked a lullaby my mother used to sing me to sleep with and sang it for the prince in a low voice, lovingly caressing each note as it flowed through me, gently rocking him with music as my mother had done for me. I chose it because it was a short song, but also because it didn’t need to be any longer to offer the comfort he was seeking.

  When I finished, the prince nodded and gave me a simple, “Thank you,” his words as concise and heartfelt as the melody had been.

  I sat beside him a while more, both of us wrapped in our private thoughts. Once he finally felt that he’d pulled himself together enough, he stood and offered me a hand up. He didn’t let go right away once I stood, pressing my hand gratefully instead.

  “For saving my sister,” he began, “if there is anything, anything at all that you ever need.”

  He left the sentence at that, perhaps avoiding to finish it so he wouldn’t limit his gratitude with sentiments only he could imagine. Only then did he release me and return to his sister’s room.

  I wanted to say something to him in parting, offer some reassuring words that would return strength to him and his family, but I was struck momentarily mute.

  Anything? Anything at all?

  This was the second time I’d been offered a blank slate, an open promise to fulfill whatever my heart was set upon. But, as before, I could think of nothing worth asking for. His family had already shown me so much kindness and I didn’t plan on remaining on land long enough to need anything else in his power to give.

  Unless he planned on flinging Sienna back into the sea himself, I doubted there was much else he could really do for me. Besides, bemused as the prince was by his foundling, I very much doubted he would throw
her into the ocean for me.

  I’d already saved one human life and see what that had gotten me. Why would I seek to capitalize on saving another? After all, it was saving his very life that had stuck me in this confusing mess to begin with.

  That night, still weighted by the events of the day and the lingering notes of my mother’s lullaby, I snuck out of my room and back down to shore, careful to avoid Sienna soaking her burning feet on the steps of the terrace.

  Truthfully, I was worried about myself then, not because of what I’d done that day, but because of the way I’d felt after. I had no doubts about saving the princess, and would do so again without second thought, but should I really have been so scared when I saw her go down? Should I really have felt so touched when the prince thanked me and said I was the princess’s sister? What did it mean that I was becoming attached to these humans and their life on land?

  Would I lose a part of myself because of it? Or had Tatiana spoken true when she reassured me that I would always and forever remain a mermaid?

  I shuddered to think of what would be if I stayed too long, surrounded by a family not shy to show each other the depth of their love, whose palace rang with the sound of their laughter and good cheer. Staying too long, I would surely become like Sienna, a traitorous mermaid who thought of herself as human just because she had a pair of legs. I’d only known these humans a few months, I thought angrily, their kindness wasn’t enough to overshadow the life I’d been given by my parents or the memories I shared with two adorable pink-bellied bottlenose dolphins. After all, my first move of note on land had been to call them up so they would never be far away despite the life that separated us.

  And yet…and yet there was something about these humans and this life with them that pulled at strings in my heart I hadn’t realized were there. Was it the land or just the people that I was drawn to? Could a mermaid really be happy in so mundane a life, so far away from the innumerable wonders of the sea? Was my life at home really so much better than my one up here? I’d exchanged pearls for garden shears, a netted shirt for a trunk of dresses, but that didn’t mean I was happier. How could it?

  Confused, conflicted, and without regard for decorum, I sank into the water and clicked my tongue at the waves, wondering if somewhere, somehow Cigny and Callan could hear me, wondering how long it would be until I would see them again. Then I sang my mother’s lullaby over and over, rocking with the waves as I sought to find comfort of my own in the arms of my beloved sea.

  The Frogling

  A few days after the incident, I was standing in a giant planter raised in the center of a fountain so that whatever was growing from it looked to be sprouting straight from the water. Since my initial hedge designs, I had started experimenting with new plants to see how they would respond to my voice. In this instance, I was working with deep blue and bright yellow flowers, coaxing them to open and rise upward, urging them to wrap around each other like eels, whose lovely, colorful ribbon bodies made them fun, popular guests in all kinds of undersea celebrations. These were supposed to swim up in a straight line, tails entwining at the bottom as they swam around either other to reach the top. The stems were listening to me, though the petals, as most other colored plants on land, were not, and even I could hear the frustration in my quiet hum.

  I was barefoot, my face hot and sweaty, my feet muddied, my nerves frayed from the still stubbornly closed flowers. In other words, I was in quite the imperfect state for a surprise visit from the royal siblings.

  From my vantage point, I noticed the princess walking toward the gardens, her steps tentative as it was her first time outdoors since the jellyfish encounter. The prince walked half a step behind, outstretched hands ready to catch her should she stumble. Though, each time the princess turned to her brother, he quickly dropped his hands.

  It wouldn’t have been entirely respectful to call to them, so I watched quietly as they came closer. They must have felt my eyes upon them, because they soon looked up and caught me in my fine state in the planter. I waved politely, which may not have been the wisest move because they interpreted that as a welcome to come over.

  “If you’re about now, then you’re healthy enough for my friend to visit,” the prince was saying as they stepped into view.

  I didn’t hear the princess’s response, but the prince seemed to appreciate it since he was still grinning widely as he navigated his sister toward the low wall of the fountain and helped her sit. The prince didn’t join her right away, rather, he stood back and studied my creation.

  “My, my, Cordelia,” he observed, “the faery gardener is outdoing herself today.”

  “Good afternoon, Your Highness.” I curtsied as best I could, hiding my embarrassed blush in the respectful dip of my head. I curtsied to the princess. “Princess, I’m so glad you’re up and about.”

  “With much thanks to you,” the princess replied.

  My cheeks flushed again. “Surely the Healer deserves the credit, Your Highness.”

  “Surely,” the princess agreed offhandedly. She turned her attention to my attempted creation, then back to her brother. “Quite lovely,” she agreed with him. Then back to me, “What will it be?”

  “Eels,” I replied, rippling my hand, outlining the shape I envisioned. “In blue and yellow.”

  “Eels in such color!” she exclaimed.

  Oops. Having lived near the ocean all their lives, having spent so much time at sea, it seemed I’d assumed they’d seen more than they had.

  “Uh, well, I thought to try something new,” I stuttered.

  “I think it marvelous,” the prince declared. “Whatever it will be.”

  “Thank you, Highness” I said.

  Princess Cordelia rolled her eyes and tossed her hair in response. Her brother leaned in a moment and she eyed him curiously.

  “What?”

  “You’re only wearing one earring.”

  The princess’s hands flew to her ears, and, feeling one lightened of its adornment, her expression turned perplexed. “These are my favorite ones!” she cried. “The diamond studded gold spheres from Grandfather!”

  The prince immediately knelt to search the grass at their feet. I couldn’t be of much help from where I was, though I did glance about to see if I would catch something glittering in the sun somewhere from my elevated view. A faint shimmer in the water pulled my eyes downward.

  “Perhaps, Your Highness, it fell into the fountain,” I called to whichever one would listen.

  Already, I was swinging around to lower myself from the planter with whatever dignity I could muster. I didn’t really want to step into the water with my dirty feet, but there didn’t seem to be another way about it.

  “Allow me,” the prince called up, offering a hand which I really didn’t want to muddy with mine.

  Just then, a giant purple frog leaped from the water onto the wall of the fountain. The princess shrieked and nearly fell in. I choked down my giggle. Another thought came to me then, and I wondered if, even though it wasn’t a sea creature, perhaps I could still talk to the frog because it lived in water. After all, it worked with Pavo.

  “Perhaps the frog can retrieve your earring, Princess,” I suggested, only half in jest. I turned directly to the frog. “Won’t you help us retrieve the golden earring?” I asked sweetly. “It looks like a gold ball.”

  Playing along, the princess addressed the frog as well. “Please do,” she said. “I’ll even repay the favor.” She glanced at me then her brother. “What can a princess give a frog?”

  “Invite him to the palace for a day,” the prince immediately offered. “It is easily done and would be quite an adventure for him.”

  The princess glanced at me and I shrugged in return. Her ladies wouldn’t like it, but they weren’t exactly here to get the earring for her. Besides, considering their thoughts on swimming, it would be fun to see their reaction to her new friend.

  “That’s what it’ll be then,” she said turning back to the fr
og. “If you retrieve my earring, I’ll bring you into the palace for the rest of the day.”

  She pulled back chuckling to herself, and the prince and I joined in as well, though I wasn’t entirely sure it was funny. I actually believed the frog understood us. As if to prove my point, the frog immediately leaped back into the water.

  “I suppose he didn’t fancy the reward,” the princess joked.

  Except, seconds later, the frog appeared at the wall with the golden earring in its mouth. The princess stared in shock.

  “Well,” her brother said slowly, “a deal is a deal.”

  “I’m not bringing a frog into the palace,” the princess said aghast.

  “Well, Highness,” I dared say, “the one who helped when you were in need should not be cast aside now.”

  I don’t know where I found those words from—possibly a book the prince had lent me—or from where I’d harnessed the audacity to say them. Either way, I had to force myself to keep my face straight when I spoke because all I could think was that I sounded like Pavo.

  The prince smothered his laugh in a fake coughing fit. Princess Cordelia looked from her brother to me, her face struggling with a mix of shock and horror.

  “You can’t be serious,” she said slowly. Then, noticing our faces, “You are serious.”

  “It’s only for a day, Highness,” I reassured her. I glanced down at the frog. “Then you’ll return to your home, right?”

  The frog blinked at me, and I couldn’t say for certain, but there seemed to be a hint of purple in its eyes as well. Did all this purple make it magical or just poisonous? Before either of us could scoop him up, the frog hopped over to the princess, sprang forward, and settled itself quite comfortably in her lap.

  The princess turned away, gagging. “That is disgusting.”