Beautiful to Me

by E. L. Tenenbaum

  Sienna remained stubbornly unimpressed by it all, which was equal parts infuriating and expected. They weren’t her friends after all; their tricks weren’t anything she hadn’t seen hundreds of times before. I also suspected she wasn’t about to allow herself to delight in the joys of a sea she’d cut herself off from so dramatically. Still, I didn’t think she’d be so indifferent to something so marvelous, no matter where it was from.

  I think that part bothered me most of all.

  On the last night of the wedding festivities, all remaining guests were invited out to the terrace to watch the fireworks that would be set off from a boat somewhere out in the water. Although I’d heard Sienna’s description of fireworks the day she’d turned fifteen, I hadn’t yet seen any myself, so I was rather eager and a little frightened, too. I really shouldn’t have been at the palace anymore, but Sienna had skillfully avoided me since the race, and I’ll admit that seeing my friends at sea again made it clear that I wouldn’t forgive myself if I left my friends on land without saying goodbye. Besides, if my direct entreaties, my songs from home, or even my friends’ delightful display couldn’t sway Sienna to return, then I had little recourse but to leave her to the fate she’d brought upon herself. Even as the possibility of war with land caused guilt to splay sticky fingers all over my mind and heart, I was ready to call it quits.

  The crowd of guests had slowly dwindled each day since the wedding, but there was still a fair amount of people packed onto the terrace that night. The ocean was calm under a glistening half-moon, the sky graciously clear, stars delightedly twinkling overhead. The crowd was hushed and relaxed after a week of outdoor festivities and late night feasting and dancing. It was appropriate to wrap up the celebrations with a relatively subdued night on the terrace, where we felt there was nothing in the world but the wind, the sky, and the lullaby of the sea.

  The guests milled with each other while waiting for the display to begin. There weren’t many other servants on the terrace, though I’m sure many had strategically positioned themselves to watch the show from the upper floors of the palace. I had an odd status among them as I was a garden servant yet also a friend, savior yet foundling of the princess. I didn’t dine at the nobles’ tables, but no one questioned my presence on the terrace that night, either. It was the first time I appreciated the freedom that came with being able to move about unnoticed, seen but not purposefully ignored. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t last very long.

  I had caught sight of Sienna slipping toward the stairs, where I was sure she would be soaking her feet in the water as she waited for the fireworks to color the night sky. I couldn’t imagine how much they must have been hurting her from the constant activity at the palace over the past few weeks. Although, sitting on the steps would offer a fair enough view of the fireworks, I decided, so I headed over to join her. Maybe I’d even think of the right words that would finally have us both diving back into the sea before the night was over without anyone the wiser.

  I was almost to the steps when the prince, who had been fluttering about the guests admirably playing his part of host, intercepted me once again.

  “Ariel,” he grinned at me. “I’m very glad you’re here.”

  “I’ve never seen fireworks before, Your Highness,” I said simply.

  “Well,” the prince said proudly, “these fireworks are real, though there are many across the realms who try to mimic them with magic.” He winked at me. “Despite what you’ll be led to think, our fireworks are pure science, just like pearls in a clam.”

  “Is the craft such a secret that no book has yet been written about them?” I teased.

  The prince chuckled. “You must forgive that I didn’t even think to check,” he contritely replied.

  I made an expression to show I was considering his request, even though there really was no use in pretending that I, a servant, would ever hold a grudge against a prince. Finally, I nodded that it was all right.

  “I’m relieved,” the prince said. Then, before I could conclude the exchange, his eyes lit up with an idea. “To make it up to you,” he said nobly, already placing a light touch on my arm and somehow firmly steering me with it, “I will make sure you have the best view tonight.”

  Ignoring my hesitation, he led me toward the railing of the terrace, a few paces down from the area reserved for his parents and the newlyweds. We weren’t center enough to draw attention, but we were still located in a spot within easy notice of anyone on the terrace. And it’s not like anyone would miss the actions of the crown prince no matter where he stood. I would have shrunk into myself, I hunched my shoulders in a primary effort to try it, but my size couldn’t ever allow it. I don’t know what went through anyone else’s mind when they saw us together one more time, though I prayed they only hoped as I did that the prince saw me as some sort of little sister, or rather cousin, or even friend in need of some refining and a sheltering wing at court.

  An announcement was made that the fireworks were about to begin and all pressed forward excitedly. The respectful distance I was keeping between the prince and myself was significantly cut, enough so I could sense the heat from his presence beside me. The prince didn’t seem the least bit perturbed and he offhandedly tossed me a reassuring smile.

  The first burst of fireworks caught me by surprise, the sudden whistling that ended in a crash of light the unexpected start of the most magnificent spectacle of manmade stars I could have ever imagined. One by one, in pairs and in threes, they set off, exploding against their darkened stage in a shower of pink, green, blue, and white sparks that made it look as if the stars themselves were falling through the sky. I gripped the railing hard, wholly entranced by this most wonderful invention of humans.

  Sometime during the blasts above, really just a few moments before they subsided, I felt a gentle warmth over my hand, much like the gradual feeling of a blanket left to slowly drift down over a bed. The warmth had a center…I looked down in wonder…the prince’s hand was covering mine!

  I stared at it in shock, not quite comprehending, not quite able to wrap my mind around what was undeniably before me. I glanced up at the prince, who remained silent but must have sensed my reaction because he reassuringly patted my hand once but still didn’t move his away. It was enough of a gesture to indicate the touch wasn’t romantic in nature, though there could be no denying there was some meaning behind his impulse to reach out for my hand. Now I really prayed everyone’s attention was fixed on the sky and not anywhere near the curious behavior of the crown prince.

  Frankly, I didn’t have the mind then to figure out what he was about, because I couldn’t get past the initial moment his hand covered mine and the unwelcome fact that no one in all of Merdom had ever done that, nor had probably wanted to either. Yet here I was still unwillingly on land, in the palace of a human king, and his son had seen fit to reach out and take my hand. Just because he was glad to share a moment with me of all people.

  That one moment, that one simple gesture was potent enough to take the fixed image of my future under the sea and throw it completely off kilter.

  Late the next morning, I was walking with Marel around the grounds of the palace, taking stock of the landscaping that would need to be fixed or turned over now that the wedding was over and the next season would soon be upon us. It was thus that we ended up near the entrance to the palace, where the last of the guests were being sent off.

  One such guest was Prince Rainn, who stood with one hand already on his horse while he said his final goodbyes to Prince Arlando. As I was supposed to be working and following after Marel, who’d come to trust and consult with me in what he considered most important matters of design, I ended up very close to them, not enough to catch everything said between them, but enough to prick my ears in curiosity.

  “…then keep her,” Prince Rainn was saying.

  “A commoner with no origin?” Prince Arlando questioned, his face serious, his eyes intently searching his friend’s.

 
; Prince Rainn replied with something that I missed, but it made Prince Arlando laugh. Then he grew somber again and told him something that sounded like, “Growing up in a palace, we take advantage of the quality and richness of what surrounds us. If I tell you about a beautiful duke’s daughter, what would you say?”

  “They’re all beautiful,” Prince Arlando automatically replied.

  “They’re all beautiful,” Prince Rainn agreed. “No one would dare ask us to endure the company of someone who isn’t.”

  I was fully intrigued and immediately tried to figure out how to navigate myself to a position from where I could listen in on the rest of the conversation without being caught. My efforts were thwarted even before I began, for Prince Arlando immediately said something I didn’t hear, followed by another question-answer exchange that I missed. I did catch the next part, however.

  “I’m only encouraging you in what I have realized for myself,” Prince Rainn was wrapping up. “When you have the good fortune to be around something extraordinary, pursue it. There is little enough magic in the world, and it’s not like either of us have the capacity to tap into it. So we must catch it, must create it when and where we can.”

  I would only later realize that his words were the reflections of a man whose father was near death, a prince who would gain the burden of his kingdom’s crown too soon. The somberness of his tone and the nature of his advice well reflected much of the human attitude toward death in general. In the enchanted kingdom, where merfolk live three hundred years before dissolving into the foam of the sea, death isn’t viewed the same way, isn’t regarded with the same unavoidable finality. Three hundred years is a very long life no matter where it’s lived, and so merfolk don’t mourn a passing, especially because our loved ones become part of the very sea that gives us life. With their thinner air, humans could not as well appreciate that death was simply the passing of a life from one form into another. Though they surely believe an immortal soul can never die, they have no way to see or feel it after it leaves the body they bury in the ground. Still, I would only understand the type of pain they could feel once I had outlived my husband, my children, and several more generations on land.

  Prince Arlando shook Prince Rainn’s hand and wished him safe travels. Prince Rainn mounted his horse, but instead of riding away, urged his horse a few steps off the paved path.

  “Miss Ariel,” he called, and only then did I dare turn around.

  Just past him, Prince Arlando noticed and began walking slowly toward us, keeping an unsure distance out of respect, but inching forward as his own curiosity won out. He was therefore in hearing distance when Prince Rainn leaned forward in his saddle and told me, “It was a pleasure to meet you and enjoy the wonderful things you create.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” I answered modestly.

  I thought that was the end of it, but when I glanced back up, he was still studying me.

  “Tell me, Mistress Gardener,” he urged in a measured whisper, “where does someone like you come from?”

  I hesitated before answering. What could I safely tell him? This prince with eyes that seemed to discern truths meant to remain unspoken. At the same time, I wondered what the harm could be in telling him more than I’d told the others. I trusted him to keep my answers to himself and, considering as the conversation I’d just overheard was most certainly about Sienna, it was only a matter of time before I’d be gone from here, returned to the sea and my life and friends within it. What I said now would have little effect on the days and years and lives to follow. It wasn’t as if any of us would ever see each other again.

  “I was once the daughter of a favored duke and duchess,” I told him. “We lived on an estate off a wide body of water, whose rivers and streams twisted and flowed throughout the palace halls. I’d say it was an enchanted, magical life, and there was no doubt it was something extraordinary, but childhood wonder tends to exaggerate even the smallest of details. Then circumstances changed and I fell to the care of an aunt who sent me away, so I do not know how or when I will return home.”

  I was careful in the words I chose, making sure to hide the truth in their simplicity, making sure to refrain from adding any more lies that may be at odds with anything I’d already revealed during my stay at the palace so far. I wasn’t certain how well Prince Rainn knew each of the human kingdoms, their monarchs and nobility, but each could have any number of noble estates, even though the one I just described would surely stand out for its uniqueness.

  Prince Rainn nodded at the modest summary of my origins, his lack of comment something I took for acceptance of what I’d said. He wished me a good day and turned his horse around, passing by Prince Arlando on his way out. He nodded at him one last time, and even I could tell something significant was silently relayed with it.

  Prince Arlando nodded after him, then glanced at me with a thoughtful expression. When he saw me watching, he quickly diverted his gaze and hurriedly strode back to the palace.

  And still, I genuinely thought it wouldn’t be long before I returned to the sea. Prince Rainn had quite obviously been encouraging Prince Arlando to hold onto Sienna, as his perceptive hazel eyes had surely noticed her love and devotion for him. There was no doubt Prince Rainn had told his friend that she wasn’t just beautiful, charming, unmatched, but also somewhat extraordinary, a trait he seemed most fascinated with. It wouldn’t be long, I was sure, before preparations would begin for Sienna’s wedding to Prince Arlando.

  And with her finding the love that would permanently make her human and Princess Cordelia married and off to rule her own kingdom, I figured there would soon be nothing left for me at the human palace. I could easily leave without regret, without ever looking back.

  Once more, I was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong.

  Run Aground

  Life resumed a steady current after King Heinrich and the soon-to-be Queen Cordelia were sent on their way. I won’t deny that I would have shed a few tears if I could have when we said our goodbyes. Instead, I stood a long while at the palace entrance watching the receding carriage carry my first human friend away from me and on to her new life. A part of me wished I could ride alongside them, seizing a few more precious moments with a human who had been so unquestioningly kind and accepting of me.

  In the short weeks that followed, I prepared myself for the announcement that the prince and Sienna were engaged, which would finally allow me to return to the sea. True, I would be returning without Sienna, but if she would be married to her prince and finally treated according to her status, then surely Tatiana would be satisfied with the outcome. I knew that after almost a year on land, it would be harder to leave than originally anticipated, but I was still set on leaving all the same. Queen Cordelia’s marriage actually helped relieve some of my conscience. Leaving would be much easier without my human friend and sister there.

  We were also past Sienna’s sixteenth birthday, so the terms of her original bargain were fast approaching. Tatiana had given her one year and three grace months, which meant I had barely four months to wrap things up. It should have been plenty of time to resolve things one way or another, but Sienna had already successfully avoided and ignored me for almost eleven months. I wasn’t confident, though I was determined with only a fraction of that time left, even as the prince’s outward attitude toward Sienna hadn’t noticeably changed.

  I can’t say for certain if Sienna felt any urgency in knowing the deal was almost up. Although the prince was still bringing me books and insisting on keeping up our horseback riding lessons, though I was now fairly comfortable in the saddle, Sienna snubbed me whenever she could and even made a point of purposefully turning away from me if she thought I might speak with her. For a while, I tried sending her notes with a few lines from one of Bestaymor’s stories or a depiction of a memory she’d seemed to enjoy when it happened or a bit of something from the sea, anything to remind her of how good her life had been, to tug her heartstrings toward home. I tried
to catch her soaking her legs on the steps at night, but she preempted even that by varying her times there. I finally stopped waiting for her but only because I knew what kind of pain she endured so I left her to find some reprieve for her legs each night.

  Without the princess at the palace, I withdrew back into myself. I stared often at the underwater world carved into my ceiling, dreaming of the day I’d once again be part of it. I knew from my months on land that my life there had been mediocre at best, but it had been mine, and I wasn’t about to deceive myself into thinking I wanted to be anything but a mermaid. Even if I could run and ride horses and go sledding and climb into planters with my pain-free human legs, I would never change the truth of my physical self.

  Then, slowly but surely, about a week or two after Cordelia’s departure, in ways I can only fully pinpoint now, my life began to shift once more. It started with little things, like the prince frequenting the gardens more often to watch and listen while I worked. At first he came under the pretense of exercising Castellano, sometimes he appeared with a book he rarely opened, but it wasn’t long before he didn’t bother with pretenses. The atmosphere between us was agreeable at that time, so I did my best to think nothing of it. The prince was merely the brother of my benefactor, a friendly face in a foreign world. Or so I told myself. The visit would begin with casual pleasantries, comments on the weather, the meal of the night before, a particular guest at the palace, before seguing and spilling over into a variety of other topics.

  Because of the odd assortment of books the prince brought me, we shared our thoughts on so many different things, from the styling of certain sails to the ability to grow particular vegetables out of their season. We chatted as I shaped and pruned and trimmed, but I was careful to listen more than I spoke, allowing the familiar soothing tones of the prince’s rich, accented baritone to guide the rhythm of my work.