“They’re my friends.” Talia’s throat was dry. Damn dryad magic, anyway.
“Perhaps. But I’m friendlier.” With that, Hephyra laughed and jumped down to the deck, leaving Talia muttering words unbecoming for any lady, let alone a princess.
By the middle of the second day, Danielle had imbibed more tea than she normally drank in a week. The
Phillipa
was fast, but her smaller size made her more vulnerable to the motion of the waves. Last night had been one of the most miserable of her life, and that was saying a great deal. Thankfully, Jakob had helped inure her to sleepless nights.
She had little luck with breakfast but had so far managed to keep down a small lunch of porridge topped with cinnamon. So long as she remained above deck where she could see the horizon, the rolling of the ship wasn’t so bad. She rested one hand on the hilt of her sword as she watched the sea. As always, the touch of the wood and glass handle soothed her tension. With her other hand, she tried to comb the tangles from her hair. She had cut it shorter after Jakob’s birth, but the wind and rain had snarled the shoulder-length locks.
“We’re down to less than half a barrel of fish guts,” Snow said brightly, coming up behind her. She had acquired a worn leather tricorn hat, no doubt charmed from one of the crew.
Danielle groaned. “What happened?”
“One of the barrels washed overboard sometime last night.” Snow yelped as a bundle of black fur hopped past, something purple and slimy clutched in its teeth. “And it doesn’t help that Stub keeps getting into what’s left.”
The three-legged cat leaped onto one of the deck guns. The sun had warmed the metal, and Danielle could hear him purring as he chewed his prize. She walked over to scratch the scraggly fur behind his ear, which made the stump of his rear leg twitch madly. “How long until we reach Morveren?”
“Lannadae wasn’t sure,” Snow said. “We lost some time in the storm, but now that we’re under full sail, we might make it by the end of the day. Assuming the winds don’t change, we could have you back home to your prince before the week is out.” Her face brightened. “That reminds me, I have a present for you. I meant to have it ready before we left, but things were so rushed. I finished it after lunch.”
She pushed up her sleeve and tugged off a bracelet. Three thick strands of copper were braided together, and in the center they held a small, circular mirror. Snow grabbed Danielle’s arm and pushed the bracelet over her wrist.
“Go on,” said Snow.
Danielle looked at the mirror. All she saw was the greenish pallor of her face, and the windblown mess that was her hair.
“Give it a kiss.”
Danielle shrugged and touched her lips to the glass. A familiar giggle made her smile. The mirror blurred, and then she was staring down at her son. She could hear Nicolette’s voice, trying to persuade him to eat a biscuit. Jakob seemed much more interested in putting the gummed biscuit into his hair.
“Jakob?”
He jumped and looked around. “Mama?”
“He shouldn’t be able to hear you.” Snow yanked Danielle’s arm, wrenching her shoulder as she studied the mirror. “I enchanted the glass to work through the mirrors in the palace. This is the sconce to the left of the doorway in the nursery. The magic of those mirrors should go only one way.”
She grinned and added, “I left a mirror like this for Armand as well, so the two of you could talk. I told him it was a good-luck necklace. You’ll have to kiss the mirror a little differently to make that spell work, though.”
Danielle twisted free of Snow’s grip and studied her son. “Oh, no. He’s gotten his hands on Armand’s shoe again.”
Jakob’s latest infatuation was with one of Armand’s shoes, a fancy thing of polished leather and velvet trim. Always the left shoe, for some reason. Jakob would gnaw it all day if he could. Unfortunately, the dye in the velvet always left Jakob with a purple-stained mouth and chin for several days afterward.
“What is it with your family and shoes?” Talia asked, coming over to join them. “First Armand runs around half the kingdom carrying that slipper, and now your son decides to devour the things.”
“I still want to know how he heard you.” Snow leaned over Danielle’s wrist. “Jakob? It’s Snow. Wave if you can hear me.”
Jakob was too preoccupied trying to wedge biscuit into his right nostril.
“Thank you for this, Snow.” Danielle touched the edge of the glass, and longing filled her chest. That should be her with Jakob, laughing and trying to get him to eat his biscuit. How many times would duty take her from her son? “Can we use it to check on Beatrice too?”
Snow’s smile slipped. “Not with Father Isaac’s wards protecting her.”
Danielle scratched her nose. The skin was already sensitive to the touch. Talia’s brown skin gave her some protection against the sun, but Danielle would have to find a hat for herself soon. “Has there been any sign of the undine?”
“Nothing yet.” Talia leaned over the railing. “But they could be right behind us, and we’d never know until they decided to show themselves.”
“That makes me feel better.” Danielle watched as Jakob’s image faded from the mirror. “What do we do if they’re just waiting for the sharks to leave?”
Snow patted the railing. “Then we find out how tough the
Phillipa
really is.”
The weather held for the rest of the day, allowing the
Phillipa
to continue under full sail. Danielle eventually found a moment alone to experiment with Snow’s mirror. Snow hadn’t been joking about the kind of kiss required to reach Armand. Danielle hoped she wouldn’t have to contact Armand while anyone else was around.
He had been in the bow of his ship when Danielle reached him, and the sound of her voice made him jump so hard he bumped into the rail.
“It’s good to hear your voice,” he said, once he had recovered from his shock.
“And yours,” said Danielle, holding the mirror close. “Have you found anything?”
“No sign of Lirea or her undine yet.” His voice tightened as he summarized the past day’s hunt. The storms had eased enough for him to take four ships out in search of Lirea. Two men had been found murdered on a fishing boat. Another ship had been wrecked from below while still in the harbor.
“You can still see the top of the masts sticking out of the water,” Armand said. “They cracked her hull and left her to sink. It probably started taking on water yesterday evening. Most of the crew survived. This was meant as a warning, to make sure every man in the bay knew what could happen to him.”
He moved closer. Danielle could see the gold chain stretching out from the mirror, circling Armand’s neck. His eyes were shadowed. He was angry, but trying not to let it show.
“How is Beatrice?” Danielle asked.
“Unchanged. Father Isaac and Tymalous have done all they can.”
The cabin door opened, and Snow peeked inside. “Lannadae is asking for you.”
“You have to go,” said Armand. “I wish I knew what it was Lirea really wanted, aside from her sister. Why would they ask for gold? The undine are migratory. Gold is heavy and clumsy to move.”
“Maybe Morveren will be able to tell us.”
“I hope so.” Armand managed a small smile. “Be careful, Danielle. And please thank your friend for the gift.”
“I will.” Danielle kissed the mirror, and when she drew back, Armand’s image was gone. She held it a moment longer, then left the cabin. Snow waited outside with Lannadae, who had finally ventured out from her makeshift cave of wood and canvas.
“We need your help,” Lannadae said, hurrying toward the bow of the ship. Danielle walked with them, trying not to stare.
Lannadae used her arms to keep her body upright, pushing herself along with her twin tails. The motion reminded Danielle of thick snakes. Lannadae gripped the rail and pulled herself higher, studying the water.
“I think we’re close.” Lannadae leaned farther over the railing. “But I can’t say for certain. Without tasting the water, feeling the currents . . . how do you people keep from getting lost all the time?”
“We use maps,” Danielle said. “You’d have to ask Snow for the details.”
“The position of the sun and stars give you a general location, so long as you adjust for the seasons,” said Snow. “I can show you how to read the charts in the map room if you’d like. I’ve been plotting out our route as we traveled.”
“Maybe later?” Danielle interrupted gently.
Lannadae was searching the water. “Are the sharks still with us?”
“Two of them.” The rest had left earlier this morning when they ran out of food. These two would depart soon enough. Danielle called to them often, thanking them for their help and asking them to stay just a little longer, but eventually they would grow hungry and need to hunt.
Lannadae smiled and pulled her body up onto the rail.
“What are you doing?” Danielle grabbed her arm.
“Tell them to protect me. I need to make sure we’re still going in the right direction.” Lannadae moved one tail over the railing.
“They’re sharks, and they’ve got to be hungry by now. They might—”
“They’ll listen to you. You’re Cinderella!” With that, Lannadae pulled free of Danielle’s grip and dove into the water.
“She certainly trusts you,” Snow commented.
Danielle leaned out, trying to find where Lannadae had gone. She dreaded what she would see.
Please don’t eat her.
The mermaid surfaced a short distance ahead of the ship, giggling like a child. She dove again, then leaped from the water. Her leaps were smaller than the ritual greeting of Lirea and her tribe, but what Lannadae lacked in strength and form she made up for in sheer joy.
Both sharks swam over to investigate, but a combination of shouting and begging convinced them to turn away. By now, several of the crew had come to watch Lannadae frolic in the water. Even Captain Hephyra chuckled as Lannadae skimmed the surface, crossing to and fro in front of the
Phillipa.
“We’re close,” Lannadae shouted. Her gills were red slashes along the sides of her neck. Even though Danielle knew what they were, the sight still shocked her. “I know this place. Morveren is that way.”
Hephyra turned to shout, “Steady a-starboard!” The
Phillipa
turned slightly, following Lannadae’s directions. “Steady!”
“Captain, do we have any meat to spare?” Danielle asked.
“I’m sure we could find something. Why?”
“To thank the sharks for not eating our mermaid.”
Hephyra grinned and ordered one of the men down to the galley.
“Forget the sharks,” Snow said, her forehead wrinkling as she studied the sky. “You’ll want to throw her a line.”
“What is it?” Danielle asked.
“Another storm.” Snow pointed ahead.
“Captain!” The cry came from atop the mainmast. One of the sailors leaned out from the crow’s nest, ropes twined around his wrist and hand for balance. “Rough seas ahead.”
“Rotted hell. We’ve barely dried out from the last one.” Hephyra cupped her hands to her mouth. “Secure the ship. Reef the sails, and keep her on course. And someone get that mermaid out of the water.”
“I wanted to stay,” Lannadae was saying as two men hauled her up. She had managed to catch a large silver fish, though she had at least been smart enough not to start eating until she was out of the water and away from the sharks. Her nails had to be sharper and stronger than a human’s, the way they pierced the fish’s side. She sat down on the deck, water puddling around her, and began to eat. Between bites, she said, “I’ll be safer beneath the waves. My tails have been so dry. The scales are already starting to chip.”
“Your scales won’t matter if those sharks grow nervous enough to take a bite out of you.” Danielle started to take her hand, but Lannadae waved her away. She stuck the whole fish in her mouth and crawled along the deck.
“Not the cabin,” said Snow. She tugged Danielle toward the map room at the very back of the ship.
The masts bowed as the crew hurried to furl the sails. Danielle glimpsed Captain Hephyra taking over at the wheel, fighting to keep the ship turned into the wind. Talia met them in front of the map room, taking Danielle’s hand and helping her inside. When the door opened, the wind created a miniature storm of paper. Lannadae slid in after her, and Snow hauled the door shut.
With three people and one undine, the map room was quite cramped. Snow’s choker flared to light, illuminating the room. A single desk occupied half the room. An enormous map of Lorindar and its surrounding countries dominated the far wall. To one side, long drawers of red-stained wood were mounted to the wall, each one latched with a small brass hook.
Stone weights held another map flat on the desk. One of the mirrors from Snow’s choker stood in the center of the map, thin gold wires acting as both legs and pins.
Wind howled, and the
Phillipa
rocked to the side. One of the rocks slid onto the floor. Talia grabbed the ornately embroidered chair behind the desk before it could topple over.