Only Talia could turn a shrug into a threat. “Given how easily your stepsister attacked you in your room last year, I’d think you’d be happy to have someone guarding your son.”
“Guarding him . . . by singing?” Danielle teased.
Another shrug. “Sometimes he has bad dreams.”
“Tala, Tala, Tala!” Jakob’s voice rose with each repetition. Soon he would be loud enough to bring Nicolette running.
“I’m here, Jakobena.” Talia scowled at Danielle one last time, then turned away. She brought the mirror close to her lips and began to sing. Her voice was low and clear, every note perfect.
“Silver moon crawls through the sky
and asks if you might play.
Peeking through the clouds, so shy,
the lonely moon has slept all day.
So close your eyes, O tiny child,
and with the moon you’ll fly away.
“Silver moon and Jakobena
dancing through the sky.
Now close your eyes, my little one.
Close your eyes and fly.”
Talia pressed her lips to the glass, then returned the bracelet to Danielle.
“That was beautiful.” Danielle could see Jakob burrowing into his blankets. “Why don’t you sing more often?”
“My voice is another of the fairies’ gifts,” Talia said. “It’s not something I like to think about.”
Danielle started to say more, then stopped herself. The tale of Sleeping Beauty was a popular one, but only a handful of people knew the truth of that tale. No princely kiss had awakened Talia from her cursed sleep. Instead, a prince had found Talia’s body and used her to satisfy his own urges. The pains of labor roused Talia as her body expelled twin children from her womb. Children she had left behind when she fled her homeland.
“Thank you for watching over him,” Danielle said, returning the bracelet to her wrist. The wires tightened, and Jakob’s image disappeared.
“I’ll watch him, sure. Just don’t expect me to change any diapers.”
Danielle covered a yawn. “Is Snow still with Morveren?”
“Where else would she be?” Talia raised one leg and pivoted, slowly moving through a series of close kicks. “Lannadae was snoring in the boat when I passed, but Snow and Morveren are still chattering away about turning people into frogs, or whatever it is witches talk about when they get together.”
“You’re just mad because their plan doesn’t include you pummeling Lirea,” Danielle teased.
“If Snow thinks she and Morveren can control Lirea long enough to get that knife, I’m not going to stop them.” Talia launched a particularly vicious sequence of punches.
Danielle knew that expression. “You’re worried about her.”
“She let Morveren transform her into a mermaid.” Talia bent her leg, allowing her body to sink lower, then repeated her kicks. “You’re the naive one who insists on trusting everyone you meet. Snow knows better.”
“She’s wanted to learn transformation magic ever since we came back from Fairytown,” Danielle said. “The change was temporary, and Snow seems fine.”
“I’ve never seen her so eager. So hungry. She’s hardly spoken to me.”
“You haven’t exactly been bubbling over with warmth either,” Danielle pointed out.
Talia turned away. “None of this would have happened if Morveren hadn’t used magic to try to change her granddaughter.”
“That was what Lirea asked for,” said Danielle.
Talia struck the wall with the edge of her hand. “Lirea was little more than a child. She didn’t know the risks. Morveren did.”
Danielle ran her fingers over her bracelet, thinking about Jakob and how hard it was to refuse when he wanted something. “She made a mistake. Now she’s trying to find a way to help Lirea.”
“There’s the naiveté I’m used to,” said Talia.
“Morveren didn’t turn her granddaughter into a murderer. Lirea is the one who killed her prince.”
“After that prince used and discarded her.” Talia relaxed, wiping her forehead on her sleeve. “Lirea’s story has a lot in common with yours, actually. You both gave yourselves to men you hardly knew. In your case, Armand turned out to be a good man. Lirea wasn’t as fortunate.”
Danielle shook her head. Even if Armand betrayed her, she couldn’t imagine killing him. Not even if her life depended on it, as Lirea’s had. “Armand wouldn’t have treated me like that.”
“Why, because he danced so well? Because of his charming words and kind smile?” Talia began another series of kicks. “Armand asked you to marry him a lot quicker than Lirea proposed to Gustan.”
“If Prince Gustan was so horrible, why would Lirea keep going back to him?” Danielle asked.
“Probably because Gustan knew how to be every bit as charming as your own husband, if not more so. Because Lirea was young and inexperienced, and a man like Gustan knows exactly how to con a girl into his bed. And because growing up, Lirea wasn’t as lucky as you were.”
A sputtered, “Lucky?” wasn’t the most dignified or royal response, but it was the one that emerged from Danielle’s lips.
Talia sat down on the opposite cot. “You weren’t born into royalty. You were raised in the real world, and you learned very quickly how cruel that world can be. But you also had a mother who cared so much that she stuck around long after her death, just to look after you. You learned to take the blows fate strikes, and you learned what love really means. I assume that’s how you’ve managed to cling to that idealism of yours for so long.
“Lirea was raised a princess, surrounded by guards and shielded from all of life’s hurts. As Jakob grows up, you’ll see how different his upbringing is. When you’re royal you learn that most people will obey your every wish. You start to believe you’re better than everyone around you. It’s not arrogance, it . . . well, it is. But when you’re young and you’ve never known anything else, that’s simply the way the world works.”
Talia dug through her small trunk at the foot of the bed, pulling out a small wooden pipe and tobacco pouch. She filled the ivory bowl while she talked. “Your parents teach you about politics and manipulation, but you always believe you’re protected. That nothing truly bad can happen to someone like you, because you’re royalty. You’re special. When life finally shatters that illusion, you don’t know how to cope.”
Danielle watched Talia closely, but her expression never changed. “So I’m lucky because the way I suffered at the hands of my stepmother and stepsisters prepared me for the world’s abuse?”
“The first time somebody strikes you, you’re shocked. You lack the reflexes to block or dodge the blows or to roll with the ones you can’t. The earlier you can learn those skills, the easier it is to deal with the next fight.”
Talia crossed the cabin and lit a small taper from the flame in the lamp. “People learn to cope in different ways. You clean things when you’re upset.” She pointed, and Danielle realized she had been polishing her bracelet with the corner of her bedsheet. “Lirea slaughters people.”
Danielle deliberately set the sheet down and folded her hands. “So how does Snow cope?”
“She sleeps with men and tampers with the nature of reality.” Talia puffed on her pipe, then blew a ring of smoke toward the door. “One way or another, it’s all about control.”
Snow had spent much of the night transforming flowerworms into butterflies. When the butterflies flew away, she used magic to call them back. All except the one that fell victim to a bedraggled three-legged cat.
“Good,” said Morveren as Snow completed another transformation. They sat together at the foremast, having left Lannadae to sleep in the cutter. “Your songs are already more precise. You’re a natural spellcaster, child.”
Snow grinned and modified her spell. The butterfly fluttered over to land on the tip of Morveren’s nose.
The mermaid laughed. “I don’t read your language very well, but are those your initials on its wings?”
Snow started to answer, but her attention was drawn to Captain Hephyra striding toward them.
“Undine?” Snow asked, once Hephyra had climbed onto the foredeck.
“I felt three of them passing beneath the hull, brushing my roots. It tickles.” She patted the mast, her fingers sinking ever so slightly into the wood. “Two remain below. They’ve already poked us with their spears.”
“Testing your strength,” said Morveren. “If this were one of Lirea’s raiding parties, there would be more warriors. These are guards, protecting the nesting sites. If you turn out to be a threat, they’ll sing for help and sink you from below.”
“Fortunately, we’re going to stop them before they realize how big a threat we are,” Snow said. Hephyra didn’t look reassured.
Snow moved to the side of the deck. The water was so dark that she could barely see where the ocean ended and the sky began. The only exception was a broad stripe of white moonlight painted along the waves. A faint shadow along the horizon might have been land, or it might have been a trick of the eye.
“Will they be able to hear you down below?”
Snow jumped, then turned to Talia. “You know how much I hate it when you sneak up on me.”
“So maybe you should pay more attention.” Talia leaned out over the rail. “Hephyra knew I was here.”
“That doesn’t count,” said Snow. “Hephyra
is
the ship. If you stepped on me, I’d know you were here too.”
“I’ll remember that next time.”
“There,” said Morveren, pointing to a lone undine. He bobbed in the water like a buoy. “If anything happens to him, one of his friends will sing a warning to the tribe while the other attacks from below.”
Snow rubbed her hands together. Before the undine scout could speak, she leaned out to shout, “There you are! I was beginning to think Lirea had forgotten us.”
The undine swam closer, coming into the light of the lanterns burning on the ship. His hair was like matted white wool, and his face was almost as wrinkled as Morveren’s. He wouldn’t have been Snow’s first choice for a guard.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“What do you mean, who am I?” Snow slapped her palms against the rail. “I am a friend of Lirea. She wished to speak to me alone, regarding her grandmother. Where is she?”
“Lirea is no friend of humans,” said the merman.
“Captain Varisto told us otherwise.” Snow stretched out her senses as Morveren had taught her. One hand moved toward her choker.
“Stop that,” Morveren hissed, keeping her body low. “You don’t need it.”
Snow made a rude gesture, but she lowered her hand. Her eyelids fluttered. She could sense the one at the surface, but where were the other two? Lulling this one’s suspicions would do nothing if the others realized what was happening.
“Varisto is a special case.” The merman swam closer. “You speak the tongue of Lorindar, not Hilad.”
Snow concentrated on the undine she could see. Using magic to fool a cat into attacking his own tail was one thing. Fooling a trained warrior was far more difficult. His suspicion was plain, so obvious she could almost touch it. She reached out to do just that, pushing back against his doubts.
“Bring Lirea to us.” She sang softly, focusing her voice on him alone.
A second undine surfaced. This one was a girl, little more than a child. She whispered to the elder merman.
Behind Snow, Morveren began to hum, lending her strength. Morveren’s time on the ship had obviously done her good, and Snow could feel the extra power flowing through her song. She smiled and tried again. “Go now, and tell Lirea we have news of her grandmother. News for her alone.”
“She never said anything . . . she can’t.” The merman shook his head. “Lirea is needed. If she leaves now—”
“If she doesn’t, she loses Morveren. Do you know what she will do to you if you cost her that chance?”
Snow could feel his fear. He knew how desperately Lirea wanted Morveren dead, but still he resisted. “A human wouldn’t understand.”
“Maybe if you ask nicely?” Talia muttered.
“No.” The sound of Morveren’s voice made Snow jump.
“I can do this,” Snow said, concentrating on the merman. “Help me—”
“Can’t you smell it? The tribe is spawning. They won’t allow Lirea to leave. They can’t.” Morveren lifted her head, peeking out at the water. “I should have guessed. The stress of war would increase the pressure to breed. All those of mating age will have gathered around Lirea.”
Snow studied the two undine. An old man and a child. No doubt the third was also of an age unlikely to reproduce this year.
“The tribe needs her,” said Lannadae, pulling herself up the ladder to the foredeck. “Without the queen’s scent in the water, the females won’t be receptive to the men’s seed.”
Talia raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a little young to know about—”
“When the mating scent fills the water, every undine feels it, from the eldest merman to the newborn mermaid. We can’t all act on those feelings, but we all understand them.” Lannadae smiled. “You humans conceal so much, hiding your bodies and your mating habits as if they were precious secrets.”