The Mermaid's Madness (5 page)

Read The Mermaid's Madness Online

Authors: Jim C. Hines

“No.” Talia snorted. “But it wouldn’t surprise me. You know Queen Bea. She had a thing for taking in frightened princesses.”
That made Danielle smile, even as her heart tightened at the word
had
.
The door creaked open, and Snow slipped inside. “She’s alive.”
Through tear-blurred eyes, Danielle saw Talia relax slightly.
“Prince Armand is writing a note for the king,” Snow continued, turning to Danielle. “He would like you to talk to the bird and stress the urgency of the message. Tell it to fly as swiftly as possible.”
Danielle rose to go, but Snow stopped her.
“What is it?” Talia asked, clutching the spear with both hands.
Snow sat down on the cot. She looked tired. Tired and
old
. For an instant, Danielle feared she had sacrificed a part of her life to save Beatrice’s. Twice now, Snow had summoned dark powers to protect her. Each time, the price had been seven years of her life. The first time, those powers had killed Snow’s mother, saving Snow’s life. The second time had been last year, when they saved Danielle and Talia.
Since that day, Snow’s night-black hair had been mixed with strands of white. Faint wrinkles marked the corners of her eyes. Danielle looked closely, but saw no new signs of age. Snow was simply exhausted.
“Tell me about the knife Lirea used,” Snow said.
“The blade was abalone,” said Talia. “About as long as my hands, two fingers wide. Double-edged and thin. Not a fighting weapon. It would likely snap if you tried to stab an armored enemy, or even if the blade struck bone.”
“No, it wouldn’t.” Snow clasped her hands together. The skin was red, scrubbed raw. Blood stained the cuffs of her shirt.
“Tell us,” Danielle said.
“I’ve done what I can to help her body heal. Hoffman is stitching the wound, and I’ve medicines that will speed her recovery. But healing is as much a matter of spirit as flesh.”
“Beatrice is the strongest woman I’ve ever met,” Danielle said. “She’s the only person I know who can outstubborn Talia. Her spirit—”
“Isn’t there,” Snow interrupted, her voice cracking.
Talia stepped closer. “You said she was still alive.”
“Her heart beats. Her body breathes. But Beatrice—” Snow reached up to take Danielle’s hand. “Beatrice is gone.”
CHAPTER 2
T
ALIA HAD LEARNED TWO STYLES of fighting in the years after she was “rescued” from her curse. The first was the formal sik h’ara style. This was long-form fighting, focused on whirling kicks and fast, open-hand strikes.
Talia preferred sik h’adan, close form. There was nothing formal about sik h’adan. It was this style she practiced now in the cramped confines of the cabin, driving a knee into the ribs of an imagined foe, then following up with an elbow to the throat. She stomped a heel to crush the arch of the enemy’s foot. She whirled, flinging the broken spear at the floor hard enough to bury the tip in the deck.
“If you’re going to attack the boat, would you mind waiting until it’s delivered us home?” Snow asked. “Or has the floor insulted you somehow?”
The spear still quivered in place. Talia grabbed the broken shaft and kicked the head, snapping the tip.
“That’s right, blame the spear.”
As much as she cared about Snow, there were times Talia wanted to throw her through a wall. “Shouldn’t you be doing something? Working on Beatrice or talking to your mirrors? We don’t even know what that knife did to her.”
“I’ve done as much as I can. I need to get to my mirror at the palace.” Snow twirled her hair around her finger, pulling it tight until the fingertip turned red. “My mother might have known. She had a lifetime of secrets collected in her library. I saved some of those books, but most . . . her protections were stronger than I expected. I can’t imagine how much knowledge burned that day.”
With a sigh, Talia knelt and grabbed the broken spear point, wrenching it back and forth until it came free of the wood. She poked a finger through the hole in the carpet. “I’ll mend it when we get back,” she said before Snow could comment.
“I haven’t seen you this tense since we broke into Lord Pensieve’s palace in Colwich,” Snow said.
Yet again, Talia restrained herself from snapping at Snow. How could she just sit there? Talia couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so powerless. Even Colwich hadn’t been as bad, though hiding in the swamps until Lord Pensieve’s men gave up the search was an experience she could have done without.
“You were itching for days afterward,” Snow said.
“Lorindar has far too many bugs.”
“Don’t forget the snake.”
Talia’s mouth quirked. “I’m not the one who screamed.”
“No, you’re the one who let out a war cry and attacked a foot-long snake with a double-headed war ax.”
“It’s all I had,” Talia said with a shrug. “Besides, for all I knew it could have been poisonous.”
Footsteps approached the cabin door.
“Prince Armand,” Snow said without looking up.
The door opened, and the prince stepped inside. His expression was cold. “The wind is against us, but I’m told we should reach the palace by dawn. The
Saint Tocohl
will escort us home, while the
Lord Lynn Margaret
remains behind to hunt Lirea and her undine. If . . . if my mother still lives, she will be given into the care of my father’s most skilled healers.”
He kept his emotions under tight rein. He reminded Talia of his father in that way. To Snow, he said, “Thank you for saving her life.”
Snow bowed her head slightly.
“What do the two of you know of Lirea?”
Talia blinked. “Your Highness?”
“I know you’ve served my mother for many years,” he said. “When I was taken by Danielle’s stepsisters, you and Snow helped to rescue me.”
“We had help from Ambassador Trittibar,” Snow piped up. “As well as a friend in Fairytown.”
Armand lifted a hand, and Snow fell silent. Talia fought a rush of anger at the gesture. Who was he to wave Snow to silence? But he had been raised a prince, brought up to command those around him, and he had no way of knowing who it was he had dismissed so casually. Most people knew the tale of Snow White, but the idea that she could be living here in Lorindar was too great a leap. At most, people assumed Snow’s nickname came from her resemblance to that distant princess.
“Not even Danielle has shared the full details of that rescue,” Armand said. “How my wife, with the help of two servants, could defeat goblins and trolls, spirits and dark magic.”
“Also darklings and a ghost,” Snow added.
“Yes, of course.” For a moment, his expression softened. “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m grateful for your assistance in Fairytown. But it’s clear you are both more than mere servants. What do you know of Lirea’s feud with my mother?”
“Nothing,” Talia said.
His lips pressed together. He turned to Snow. “And you?”
Snow stared at the wall. “You’re an intelligent man. If I had known Lirea meant to attack your mother, do you really think I would have left her unguarded?”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Armand said.
Talia had been thinking the same thing. The cabin tilted as the ship fought the wind. Talia adjusted her weight to compensate, watching Snow closely.
Armand pressed one hand to the ceiling. When the ship steadied, he snapped, “I’ve seen my mother struck down and my kingdom dragged into conflict with an enemy we’ve never fought. If you truly serve this kingdom, you’ll—”
Talia shook her head, fighting for calm. “We swore to serve your mother. Not your kingdom, nor you.”
“And you don’t want to know what Beatrice puts up with to keep that loyalty,” Snow added.
Talia scowled, but Snow only flashed that damnably innocent smile of hers.
Armand drew a deep breath, and the anger slowly drained from his posture. “My mother trusts you.”
“Yes.” Talia’s voice was flat. Beatrice had trusted her, and because of that trust, Beatrice had almost died.
“As does Danielle.” Armand hesitated only slightly before adding, “I know you love them both. Thank you for trying to protect them.”
Talia managed a small nod. Anger she could accept, but compassion cut through her defenses as easily as she had slipped past Lirea’s.
She clenched her fists, trying not to think about that fight. There were so many ways she could have prevented this. A blow to the back of Lirea’s knees, dropping her to the deck. An overhand strike with the spear, stunning her. A simple kick to the throat. Any one of those moves would have stopped Lirea without pushing her toward the queen.
“My surgeon will watch over her until we reach the palace,” Armand went on. “I would ask the two of you to stay close to Danielle. I’ve stationed men to watch the water, but we’ve seen how easily Lirea can board this ship. If she follows through on her threats against Lorindar, we won’t be safe until we’re back on land.”
Talia blinked. “You’re asking us to protect her?”
The prince managed a smile. “Somehow I suspect you’d do so with or without my request.”
“If Lirea does return,” Snow said softly, “tell your men to try to get that knife.”
Talia’s expression was feral. “If she returns, you can take it from her corpse.”
The following morning, Danielle stood on the quarterdeck with Talia and Snow. At sunrise, the cliffs of Lorindar had been little more than a smudge of shadow rising from the water. Now she could distinguish the proud shape of Whiteshore Castle sitting atop the white cliffs. Clumps of green clung to the cliff face where grass and shrubs had managed to take root against the wind and rain.
The palace was made of the same white stone. Glass windows sparkled in the towers, and Danielle could just make out the guardsmen patrolling the eastern wall.
The
Glass Slipper
sailed past the wharf near Fisherman’s Canal, where the commercial and fishing ships were docked. Fisherman’s Canal was almost a town in itself, with its warehouses, roads, and boardwalks spreading along the rocky base of the cliffs and out into the water. The royal navy used the docks further north, past the road that switchbacked up into the city proper.
The crew trimmed the sails as the helmsman guided the
Glass Slipper
past one of the man-made seawalls, long piles of rock that stretched out from the cliffs to absorb the sea’s rage in times of storm.
Sailors swarmed over anchored naval ships, hauling supplies and crawling through the rigging as they prepared to set out.
“What will they do?” Danielle asked. “The undine could be anywhere.”
“Not anywhere,” said Snow. “In the coming weeks, they’ll have to settle someplace safe to birth their young. Their children are vulnerable to cold, so they’ll go to a place that’s shallow and warm.”
Talia leaned over the railing and spat. “Shallow and warm? That leaves the entire coastline of Lyskar, Allesandria, and the Hiladi Empire. We should be able to search them all within about three years. Assuming their respective rulers don’t object to the Lorindar Royal Navy snooping about their lands.”
“We’ll find them,” Danielle said. Talia scoffed, but didn’t bother to argue.
The
Glass Slipper
slowed, momentum carrying her orward even after the last sail was furled. Behind her, she heard Armand formally relinquish command to one of the officers.
“You and I will be first off,” he said as he joined her. “We’re not waiting for the tides. I want you back on land.” He turned back to Talia and Snow. “Would the two of you assist us in escorting my mother’s . . . body?”
Talia hesitated. She looked at Danielle, as though she were checking to make sure she had heard correctly. “Of course, Your Highness.”
Danielle took Armand’s hand and squeezed. She hoped he understood how much such a request would mean. Talia tried to hide her misery, but it was clear she still blamed herself for what had happened. Knowing Talia, she would continue to carry that blame until Beatrice recovered. Danielle didn’t think about what would happen if Beatrice never awakened.

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