Nobody spoke again until Snow’s footsteps began to splash in the water. Snow stopped to remove her boots, setting them against the inner wall on a higher step. “We’re close now. The tide is rising, so you’ll want to leave your things high enough to avoid the water.”
Danielle removed her cloak and bundled her shoes inside. She retreated up the stairs, setting her things where they would be safe from the sea. The damp air raised goose bumps on her arms.
The stairs descended into cool seawater. A bed of algae and seaweed covered the bottom steps. Danielle held the outer wall for balance, frightening a tiny crab who scuttled through the cracks and disappeared.
Snow turned sideways, and the light from her choker dimmed as she squeezed through a narrow gap in the inner wall. Talia followed, and then it was Danielle’s turn. The rocks smeared mud and algae over her shirt and skirt. After a few steps, the passage widened into a shallow cavern filled with water.
Snow was already wading toward the center of the pool. “Lannadae?”
At the back of the cavern, a dark shape slipped into the water. Too large to be an animal, it had to be the mermaid. Danielle started to speak, but between one breath and the next, the mermaid exploded from the water.
She hit Snow with one shoulder, knocking her aside before turning to brandish a large rock at Danielle and Talia.
“Stay back!” Talia shouted, her knives appearing in her hands as if by magic. She leaped into the water, twisting sideways to avoid the next attack.
“Lannadae, these are my friends!” Snow shouted.
Even Danielle could see how clumsy Lannadae’s attacks were. The mermaid swung wildly, clearly panicked by the arrival of strangers. “Talia, don’t hurt her.”
The next time Lannadae swung, Talia brought the hilt of her knife down on the back of Lannadae’s hand. The mermaid squealed and dropped her rock. She splashed back, barely avoiding Talia’s knives.
A powerful tail slammed into Talia’s hip, tossing her to the side. Lannadae tried to use her second tail to shove Talia beneath the water, but Talia was faster, pushing sideways, then jabbing a knife at Lannadae’s stomach.
“Talia!” Danielle waded deeper into the water. “That’s enough.”
Talia hesitated. Lannadae shot to the rear of the pool, surfacing with another rock.
“Both of you, stop.” Danielle stepped between them, her heart pounding. She watched Lannadae’s hands, waiting for the telltale twitches that would signal another attack. She had trained with Talia long enough to defend herself, but her reflexes would be slower in the water. “Nobody is going to hurt you.” She glanced at Talia, who scowled but didn’t argue. “We came here for Beatrice.”
Lannadae kept her rock raised. Her tails were bent in opposite directions on the bottom of the pool, allowing her to match Danielle’s height. “I don’t understand. Why would Beatrice tell you about me? Has my father returned yet?”
“I told them.” Snow raised her hands, either to show she was unarmed or because she was preparing a spell, Danielle wasn’t sure. “These are my friends. Talia and Danielle. Beatrice trusts them.”
Lannadae stared at Snow, then pulled herself up to perch on a wide shelf of stone, watching them all.
She was similar in appearance to Lirea, with the same long, split tails. Her scales were redder in color, and the fins on the sides of her legs seemed fuller, though perhaps the spreading of her fins was simply a sign of fear. She appeared roughly the same age as Lirea. Blue and yellow jewels sparkled on tiny braids in her matted hair.
She was plumper than her sister, though still thin compared to the other undine Danielle had glimpsed. The winter had eaten away at the thick layer of fat that would have protected Lannadae from the cold. Her skin was pale, tinged with blue.
Snow’s choker brightened as she studied Lannadae more closely. “You haven’t been eating enough.”
Lannadae slapped her tails against the water. “Bring me something that hasn’t been dead for three days, and I’ll eat that.”
“The undine only acquire that blue-green pallor through poor diet,” explained Snow. “We brought as much food as we could last fall to prepare Lannadae for her hibernation, but—”
“Why did you bring
them
?” Lannadae demanded, staring at Danielle and Talia.
“Because we need your help,” Danielle said. “Beatrice was attacked yesterday. By Lirea.”
Lannadae dropped into the water. Turning to Snow, she asked, “Is that true?”
Snow nodded. “Beatrice is still alive, but she’s not well. Lirea stabbed her.”
Lannadae dove beneath the water and stayed there. “It’s all right,” Snow said. “She does this when she’s afraid. She’ll come out soon.”
Danielle looked around the cavern. Several books sat on a crude shelf chipped into the rock. Gifts from Snow, brought down from the library? She couldn’t imagine Snow risking her precious books to the water. Even from here, Danielle could see that the leather covers were heavily stained, the pages swollen from moisture.
“Beatrice gave them to her,” Snow said. “I did my best to protect the pages, but . . .” She shook her head, her disapproval obvious. “I’ve already had to repair the bindings on two of the books.”
The air smelled of seaweed and old fish. Bones and cracked shells littered the rock to Danielle’s right, along with a tarnished knife. A stone flute lay tucked against the edge of the cavern. A pair of open barrels had been crammed into a nook near the back.
Talia climbed out of the water and picked up the knife. “This came from the palace kitchen.”
“Beatrice brought a number of supplies when Lannadae awoke last month,” Snow explained.
“How did they bring those barrels in?” Danielle asked. “Beatrice couldn’t have hauled those down the seagate stairs by herself.”
“There’s a tunnel below the water, at the very bottom of the staircase.” Snow pointed back toward the narrow cave. “It’s only visible at low tide. Beatrice and I—”
“How much longer is she going to hide?” Talia asked.
Snow waded toward Lannadae. “You’re safe, Lannadae. Lirea doesn’t know where you are, and my friends aren’t going to hurt you.” She jumped back as Lannadae’s tails thrashed beneath the water.
“Fine. We can do this the hard way.” Snow dragged her fingers along the surface of the water. Fog spread over the ripples, and a crackling sound filled the cavern. Ice spread outward, moving toward Lannadae.
Lannadae thrashed again, then swam to one side, nearly colliding with Danielle as she burst from the water. “I told you I don’t like the cold!”
“Beatrice needs your help now,” Snow said. “The ice was fastest. Or would you prefer I let the princess here call a sea snake to chase you out of the water?”
Lannadae yelped and turned to stare at Danielle. Her eyes grew inhumanly wide. “Princess? You’re
her
, aren’t you? Princess Cinderella?” She ducked beneath the pool, swimming so close that her hair tickled Danielle’s feet. Lannadae arose moments later, whipping her head back so that water sprayed from her hair. “You’re not wearing your glass slippers!”
Danielle fought a smile. “They’re not very practical for stairs and caves.”
“Beatrice told me your story. I’ve been practicing until I can tell it almost as well as she does. I could tell it to you, if you wanted.” She ducked her head, suddenly shy.
“That would be lovely,” Danielle said. “But first, we have to—”
“Cinderella and Snow White both. How exciting!” Lannadae spun around to stare at Talia. “So who are you?”
“Nobody,” Talia said before anyone else could answer.
“Oh.” Lannadae sounded disappointed. She turned back to Danielle. “Can you explain something to me? You attended the ball in a magic gown and slippers, but that magic ended at midnight. If the gown vanished, why didn’t the slippers disappear too?”
“Actually, I’ve wondered that too,” said Snow, cocking her head at Danielle.
“The gown didn’t vanish.” Danielle closed her eyes, remembering how hard it had been to tear herself away from Armand each night before midnight. “But my stepsisters and stepmother stayed at the ball each night until the stroke of twelve. I had to flee before they left. I returned to my mother’s tree each night to hide my things, changing back into a filthy serving girl so nobody would suspect me.”
Talia cleared her throat, and Danielle sighed, remembering the days when the worst she had to fear was a beating from her stepmother. She knelt in the water, lowering herself to Lannadae’s height. “Your sister attacked Beatrice with a magical knife.”
Lannadae drifted back. She sank deeper until her mouth was level with the surface. Snow tapped the ice in warning, but Lannadae didn’t try to hide. Water flowed over her lower lip, causing her voice to warble. “An abalone blade, the hilt bound in hair?”
“You know it?” asked Talia.
Lannadae moaned. The sound sent ripples over the water, and Danielle backed away. The mermaid’s voice grew louder, a song of despair that resonated through Danielle’s bones, stirring feelings she hadn’t felt in months.
For weeks after Jakob’s birth, nightmares had torn Danielle from her slumber. Dreams of Jakob left unattended on the northern wall of the palace, giggling as he looked down at the ocean far below. Her own screams as she tried to run to him, but her feet wouldn’t obey. Every step painfully slow, watching Jakob totter on the edge, too far to reach, and then he was falling.
Danielle rubbed her eyes, trying to blot those visions from her mind. Trying to keep from shaking.
“Stop it,” Snow shouted. “Lannadae!”
Lannadae jumped, and her song trailed off.
“The undine’s voices are magical,” Snow said, wiping her face. “Particularly those of royal blood.”
Danielle nodded, remembering Lirea’s screams back on the
Glass Slipper
. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Talia, are you all right?”
Talia had turned to face the cavern wall. “Tell her if she does that again, I’m going to—”
“I won’t,” Lannadae said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I forgot how our song affects you.” Tears dripped down her cheeks. “My father is dead, isn’t he? Lirea killed him.”
Danielle rubbed her arms, fighting the urge to run to the palace to check on Jakob. She could still feel Lannadae’s grief, as strong as if it were her own. “I’m sorry, Lannadae. I lost my own father when I was young.”
“I should have stayed with him,” said Lannadae. “He insisted on protecting me. On protecting us both, Lirea and myself. He said the tribe couldn’t afford to lose either of us.”
“Tell us about Lirea’s knife.” Talia’s voice was colder than usual. Lannadae’s song had obviously hit her as hard as it had Danielle.
“The hair wrapped around the handle is mine. Mine and my sister’s.” Lannadae floated on her back, fingers tugging the beads in her hair. “We were told it would save her.”
“Who told you?” asked Snow.
“My grandmother.”
“Tell us what happened,” Danielle said.
Lannadae swam to the rear of the cave and retrieved a knotted loop of yellow sinew. Beads and bits of shell were tied along its length. She twined the cord between her fingers, weaving a simple pattern of diamonds within a larger square. The motions appeared to calm her.
“I am Lannadae, daughter of Gwerdhen, of the line of Ilowkira.” This was the loudest she had spoken. Her words were almost a chant. “This is the story of Lirea and Prince Gustan.
“Lirea was the most daring of Gwerdhen’s three children. She would follow the humans and their ships, learning their songs and eavesdropping on their words. She soon learned more of humans than any undine before her.
“One spring day, powerful waves drove a human ship against the rocks.” Lannadae’s fingers looped through the cord in her hands. When she pulled the cord taut, it suggested the shape of a ship with a single sail. “Lirea swam with all her strength, but she was able to save only a single human. He was a Hiladi prince, strong and handsome. She brought him to safety and fell in love. She gave herself to him that day on the rocks.
“When our father learned what Lirea had done, his fury shook the oceans. But his rage only made Lirea’s yearning stronger.”
“Forbidden love is much more exciting,” Snow agreed.
Lannadae shuddered, sending tiny wavelets from her body. “The undine have frolicked with your kind upon occasion, but for one of the royal blood to love a human . . . she could have been banished from the tribe. Prince Gustan’s people would have done the same, thinking the undine little better than animals. For much of that summer Lirea would sneak away to be with her beloved, despite the dangers. Gustan’s palace sits in treacherous waters, where wind and waves threaten even an undine. Often she returned bruised and battered from the journey. They both knew there could be no real future between them, but still she went to him.
“As spring passed into summer, Lirea turned to our grandmother Morveren for help. Morveren, who had spent her life gathering the secrets of the sea. Morveren offered Lirea the chance to assume human form, though the transformation was not without cost. But Lirea cared only for her prince.”