Parting Worlds - A Little Mermaid Retelling (Once Upon a Curse Book 4)

by Kaitlyn Davis

  "What'd you find, boy?"

  A human on a horse emerges from the tree line. He's young like us, with a mop of black hair and a smile that seems kind. When he slides down from his horse, the hound runs into his open arms, licking the human's face as his tail wags enthusiastically. I almost start to relax, until two more men follow from behind. One is old with sharp eyes, and the other is young with a pompous air.

  "Well?" the old man drawls.

  "I think he found something," the first boy murmurs. Under their scrutiny, he appears to shrink, no longer at ease but tense in a way I don't quite understand. With a sigh, he pushes the hound away. "Go on, show us."

  The dog runs back to our tree, barking toward the branches high overhead. All three humans narrow their gazes, scanning the leaves. Nymia and I don't even breathe.

  Finally, the second boy sneers. "I told you the hound was broken. There's nothing there."

  "He's not broken," the first boy retorts, but soft enough I'm not sure the other humans hear him. "You're not broken. Are you, boy?"

  The hound buries his face in the boy's chest and wiggles his backside with glee. It's only then that I notice one of his hind legs is made of wood, not of the Mother, but some sort of contraption with metal hinges and a leather strap. The sight brings a smile to my lips. Before I can figure out exactly how it works, the hound turns and barks again.

  "I thought the beast was trained, Erick."

  "He is, Father," the first boy says, wincing as he stands. "Maybe there's magic we can’t see."

  "Well, what good will it do us, if we can't see it?"

  "We should've brought the other hounds, Father," the second boy snaps. "I told you his beast was nothing more than a pet, and not even a whole one at that."

  The first boy, Erick, folds his fingers into fists, but his hound licks them, as though whispering the fight isn’t worth it. The boy rubs the dog's head instead, and with each pat, the tension in his frame lessens. The two other humans dismount, using the break to stretch their weary muscles. They've lost interest in the dog and the tree completely. But not Erick. He kneels, scratching the spots behind those two floppy ears, and looks up.

  "What do you see, boy?"

  I inhale sharply as his bright blue gaze roams over our hiding spot. Heat flares in the center of my chest, different from anything I've felt before. It’s as if he can see me—or maybe as if I want him to see me. Though he has the dull, lifeless skin of a human, unlit with magic, I'm still mesmerized by the way the light plays over his features, highlighting the edge of his square jaw, the height of his cheekbones, the subtle curve of his lips. I've never seen anyone so handsome.

  A gust of wind blows, catching my hair so the scarlet tendrils swirl around my face, framing it. I don't know if it was sent by the Mother, or maybe by my own rebellious magic, but the boy stiffens. He narrows his eyes and leans up, as though trying to see.

  Nymia gasps.

  But I'm not afraid.

  If anything, I'm intrigued.

  The breeze dies and the shadows wrap securely around me once more. What did he see? A flash of red? Could he tell it was hair? Did he see an outline of a face hidden in shadows?

  He doesn't yell or shout. He doesn't call for the other humans.

  He just stares, eyes wide, as mesmerized as I am.

  "A phoenix!"

  Whatever spell we were caught in shatters. Erick stands and spins, looking to where the other boy points.

  "Your idiot beast barked at the wrong tree."

  No, he didn't. I want to snap at the other human. He's a lot smarter than you'll ever be, you ignorant man.

  But I know it'd be no use. Humans have no sense of magic, no connection to the power. That's our greatest defense against them—they can't see it even if they're staring it in the face. That's why they covet it so much.

  Heart in my throat, I turn toward the phoenix, which is hardly more than charred bones engulfed in blue flame. It's at its weakest, so vulnerable. In a few moments, it'll be nothing more than a baby chick sitting in a pile of ash, unable to fly, unable to flee. And the humans know it too. The old one turns toward his horse, then reaches into his bag for a net. The other boy helps. That bulbous black eye watches them with a look of resignation before it melts away. The phoenix collapses to dust and the fire disappears.

  Why didn't it find a safer place? Why didn't it go home?

  Fly! I want to shout. Fly!

  But it can’t.

  Magic burns beneath my skin, aching to be released, aching to fight, but there's nothing I can do either. Not so far from home. Not without the priestesses close by to help. Not when I told Nymia I'd keep her safe.

  I grip her hand tighter.

  She squeezes back.

  Together, we watch as the humans fling a net into the sky. It whips through the trees and snatches the pile of ash, which disperses like a dark cloud, then plummets to the ground. A rope catches tight before the mesh slams against dirt. Trapped within its folds lies a pink phoenix, hardly more than skin with a few patches of crimson fluff.

  The two humans cheer.

  My gaze drops, catching the way Erick's shoulders fall with a deep sigh. I wonder why he doesn't seem more thrilled. After all, the bloodhound was his. What did he think would happen once the dog caught a scent? Nymia and I are lucky we're not the ones dangling from a branch with nowhere to run.

  I lean into my sister, remembering who I am—a faerie.

  He's a human.

  Whatever moment we shared, it's passed.

  Still, I can't help the way my heart hammers in my chest when he glances toward our hiding spot again, a gleam in his eyes whispering at awareness. He knows we're here, yet he keeps our secret.

  That has to count for something, right?

  When he stands to go help the others, I notice that he's left something behind—a circle of woven gold, not quite completed, with a sharp spoke decorated by a gleaming ruby gem. What is it? What's it used for? He doesn't seem to notice it's even missing as he walks away with the hound following at his heels.

  Before I realize what I'm doing, my magic is already surging through the air, down to the ground, and into the vines. Nymia hisses into my ear, but I ignore the warning and use a little bit of power to wrap a green cord through the opening and tug the trinket back toward the tree, where I hide it beneath a fat leaf.

  The hound spins, growling softly.

  Erick glances over his shoulder, gaze dropping to the empty spot, then lifting toward me. It's only then that I realize what the item was all along. A test. One I'm pretty sure I passed as a dazzling light fills his eyes and the left edge of his lip pulls into a grin.

  "Come on, boy," he whispers. "Let's leave her be."

  Her.

  Let's leave her be.

  Nymia goes rigid behind me, and I know a lecture is imminent. I'm surprised she manages to hold off for another twenty minutes—though the silence is hardly relaxing. We don't move as the humans disappear from sight. We hardly breathe until we're confident they're so far away they'll never hear us. I'm about to make a joke to ease the tension, when Nymia's voice slices through the quiet.

  "Her! Did you hear that, Aerewyn? Her!"

  I wince. "I'm sure he meant that in the generic sense."

  "Oh, really?" Nymia retorts. I don't want to turn around to face her, but my body acts on its own, spinning with defiance. The bravado deflates the moment I meet her panicked eyes. "You don't think maybe he saw your hair in the breeze? That he saw us? That he saw you? And then you used your magic!"

  "Humans can't see magic."

  "They can see objects vanishing from plain sight!"

  I chew my lower lip, not sure what to say.

  Nymia arches a pointed brow. I hate when she does that.

  I hate it more when she's right.

  "Okay, okay. Yes, he saw us—maybe. But he didn’t say anything. And now they're gone. And we're perfectly safe. Humans know faeries exist. It's not like we're some great mystery.
So what if he saw?"

  For a moment, I think I've won.

  Then her nostrils flare.

  I sigh.

  "So what? So what!"

  "Nymia."

  "His bloodhound has our scent."

  "Nymia."

  "You saw what they did to that phoenix. We could be next!"

  "Nymia." I grip her shoulders and squeeze, forcing her to listen. "We're okay. We're fine. They're gone. And once we're home, they'll never be able to find us, not with the protection wards the priestesses weave." Her breathing slows. The fear in her eyes eases and the color returns to that of the midday sky. There's still an edge of fury, but I decide to press my luck. Because, well, I always press my luck. "We just need to make one quick stop first."

  "Aerewyn!" She recoils.

  "Come on. Let's go see what it is."

  "Aerewyn—"

  But I've already leapt from the branch to sail back toward the ground. Nymia's better with wind magic, but I'm better with water magic. As her breeze surges to try to soften my fall, I reach deep into the earth for an underground stream I sensed earlier, and call forth a geyser. The spray explodes through a crack in the dirt, rising up to meet me. By the time I land, there's a small pool waiting to catch me with a splash. Nymia lands elegantly by my side, descending like a bird from the sky as her blonde tresses flutter like wings in the breeze.

  A spray of water mysteriously slams into her face.

  "Aerewyn!"

  "What? I lost control of the magic…" My smile gives me away.

  Nymia flicks her fingers. Before I have a chance to move, a cyclone whirls, lifting the water from my shallow pond into the air along with the mud, whipping me from all sides. Within moments, I'm drenched and covered in muck.

  She just shrugs.

  I roll my eyes and jump to my feet, calling on the Mother's sun to warm my faerie clothes until the dirt is dry enough I can wipe it all away. For now, it'll do.

  "What is it?" Nymia asks, staring toward the human trinket I hid within the vines.

  "I don't know," I murmur and step closer to brush the leaves aside, then pluck the golden circlet from their folds. The metal is braided with such precision I almost wonder if a faerie crafted it with magic instead of a human using tools. There's an aura of refinement and elegance. I fold the sharp point with the ruby back, playing with the hinge, not quite sure how the mechanism works. "Is it a weapon?"

  "But it's so small."

  "A weapon for children?"

  "But he was a young man."

  "Maybe something for hunting?"

  Nymia shivers. "I don't like it."

  I do—but she already knows that. I like everything I'm not supposed to.

  "We should leave it here. What if they spelled it? What if they can track it?"

  It's possible.

  Erick's face fills my thoughts—the warm twinkle in his eyes, the soft grin. I don't think he meant ill will, but with humans there's no way to be sure.

  Still, I find my fingers clamping down on the metal, securing it safely within my palm. "I'm taking it."

  Nymia groans, but she doesn't protest. And when I start running, she follows. We both know where I'm going.

  To my cave.

  Well, our cave, technically, though I don't think Nymia likes it there very much. It's where we store all the treasures from our adventures, safely within faerie land, yet close enough to the outskirts the priestesses haven’t found it. We spelled it a long time ago, so no matter how far we travel, we can always find it—as though there's a string tied to our hearts, leading us back, leading us together. It's our safe spot, if we get separated or lost and need to find our way back. I use that gentle magical tug as a guide and race across the forest.

  The entrance is hidden behind a waterfall, only accessible with magic. I call upon the Mother as we near, and the liquid curtain parts down the middle, splitting into two to reveal the shadowed doorway behind. Blowing icy air through my lips, I freeze a narrow pathway across the surface of the pond. Together, Nymia and I dash across the ice and slide into our hideaway. My sister murmurs the words for faerie light. A golden globe of casted sunlight bursts to life, illuminating every corner of the cavern as it rises to hang near the apex of the dome. I skim the shelves I magicked out of stone, searching for the perfect spot for my newest acquisition.

  Magical items go on the left—the dragon scales we found in a cave, a chunk of unicorn horn broken off during a territorial fight, griffin feathers, a giant's nail clippings, one razor-sharp siren tooth, and so much more.

  Human items go on the right. I have far fewer of these, which I think makes me covet them more. There's a rusty knife blade with a twisted-iron handle. A square of silk cloth with frayed edges. A few broken straps of leather with metal buckles. A white jug with a crack down the side, interrupting colorful latticework. And my most prized possession, a smoothly polished animal horn, hollowed out and edged in gold. I'm not sure what any of it is for, really, but that's what makes it so intriguing.

  I nestle Erick's trinket beside the horn.

  I think it's my new favorite.

  "Can we go now?" Nymia asks, a shiver in her voice.

  I spin around to face her. "What's wrong?"

  "I just have a bad feeling."

  "Like your dreams?"

  Nymia swallows and nods.

  Sometimes, my sister wakes in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, screaming. Sometimes, she whimpers and thrashes, smacking me with her flailing limbs. Sometimes, she casts a storm in her sleep, waking to the crack of her lightning as it flashes across the sky. The priestesses say she's having premonitions—dreams sent from our gods. I believe them. I've always known Nymia is stronger than she gives herself credit for.

  The other girls in our training year used to laugh at her. They said she was broken, like that boy said about that dog earlier today. They said she wasn't whole, that part of her was missing. Though they weren't afraid of Nymia, they soon learned not to cross me—a little mischief is, after all, the sort of thing I live for. The first time I heard them gossiping, I cut one of the girls' hair off in the middle of the night. The second time, I sent another floating down the river on a lily pad. The third time, I dropped a nest of fire ants on a few of their beds. There wasn't a fourth time.

  Nymia told me not to—that I was making enemies.

  I told her I didn’t want friends like that anyway.

  That's when we became sisters. Technically, all the priestesses-in-training are kin. We're all children born of the Mother and the Father, connected by our magic, if not by blood. But Nymia is the only one I call sister, and same with her for me. We chose each other a long time ago, and nothing will break us apart.

  I hold out my hand and she takes it.

  That's enough exploring for one day.

  "Home?" I ask.

  "Home."

  Before we leave, I cast another glance over my shoulder, eying the trinket for a moment longer, wondering why the sight of it brings a warm blush to my cheeks.

  Then we're gone.

  We run toward the river and kneel beside the bank, grasping a leaf between our palms. I use my magic to stretch it wide and long. Nymia uses hers to stiffen the veins. We set it on the water and climb in, then let the current carry us away. It’s a ten-minute trip before the sacred grounds slip into view, a bright patch of rainbow in otherwise green terrain. Flowers of every shape and size cover the expansive meadow, as brilliant as the most vibrant sunset, as welcome as the dawn. I urge a branch to stretch out across the water and grab the wood to reel us toward the shore. We climb out before anyone can see, and scurry through the trees, pretending we've been here the whole time.

  It works.

  Almost.

  We're through the trees and into the outer edge of the sacred ground when a voice stops us, drawing everyone's attention.

  "Aerewyn! Nymia!"

  I wince. Drats.

  "Yes, Priestess Sytrene?" I murmur in what I hope is a d
emure way as Nymia and I spin with our heads bowed.

  Just as the year has four seasons, so do we as Mother's children—spring faeries, summer faeries, autumn faeries, and even winter faeries with skin as white as snow, twinkling like the surface of an icy field. Priestess Sytrene is the most powerful of us all, gifted dominion over the season in which Mother is at peak strength—the High Priestess of Summer. She's the oldest too, though you'd never know it by the warm bronze of her hair and the perfectly unblemished tan of her skin. Her flowing robes made of ivory magnolia petals match those of the other priestesses, in style if not always in color. But the golden circlet nestled above her brow, adorned with five glittering diamonds, the center of which shines yellow like the sun, names her our leader.

  This can't be good.

  "Where have you been?"

  I blink and tilt my head to the side, one word racing through my thoughts—deny, deny, deny. "Whatever do you mean?"

  "I mean, why did I feel the weight of two little faeries catapulting themselves through the protection ring and into human territory earlier today when they were supposed to be studying the forests?"

  Nymia sucks in a breath, but I haven’t given up hope. "It couldn't have been us. We didn't travel that far."

  "I saw you in the scrying water."

  Double drats!

  How much did she see? The humans? The dog? Our cave?

  No.

  Definitely not.

  If she'd seen any of that, she would've never waited for us to come home on our own. She would've retrieved us immediately. There's still a chance we can get out of this…

  "We went beyond the boundary?" I ask meekly, switching to ignorance, another favored tactic.

  Priestess Sytrene isn't impressed. She watches me tiredly, a slight frown upon her lips. "If you couldn't sense your passage through the magic, we have a much bigger problem on our hands." Her gaze slides to Nymia, the easier target. "I want the truth."

  "We, um…" my sister mumbles, unsure.

  "It's my fault," I cut in. "It was my idea."

  Those sharp amber eyes cut back to me. "I'm well aware of that, Aerewyn."

  A few of the priestesses over her shoulder smile, amused probably, by a sight that takes them back to their own youths. That's not what bothers me—it’s the snickers of the other girls, laughing quietly to each other, sharing glances laced with innuendo.