by Violet Grace
‘What have you found there?’
I spin round, my face flushed like I’ve been caught with my hand in the biscuit tin.
‘I…’ I begin, but realise I have no idea what to say. It’s irrational, but I don’t want to share my discovery with Victor.
He arches an eyebrow, glancing at the shell in one hand and the pendant he gave me in the other.
‘It pleases me to see you wear the pendant. I selected it for you personally, from amongst these treasures.’
If he noticed the symbols leaping from the shell a moment ago, he doesn’t show it. He takes the pendant from my hand, his fingers lightly brushing mine, and fastens it around my neck. ‘There. Now you’re perfect.’
He motions to another cabinet. ‘There is more jewellery crafted from merglass.’
Merglass? This pendant belonged to the mermaids? That can’t be a coincidence.
‘Come, I will select a complete set for you,’ Victor offers.
His generosity makes me uncomfortable, but declining a gift will probably land me in a diplomatic incident. Again. Fortunately, before I have to refuse it, Roberto appears at the door, attracting our attention with a cough.
He approaches Victor and whispers something in his ear. I do my best to eavesdrop but the only word I catch is ‘Eleonora’.
Victor’s face turns to something between concern and frustration.
‘Bella, my love, forgive me. My duty calls. But please, you are welcome to stay here as long as you wish. I fear I will be detained for some time.’ He kisses my hand and leaves with Roberto.
I let out a long breath and scan the Hall of Treasures for security, affecting some fascination with the ornate carvings of the cornices. I’m not exactly sure what the Fae equivalent of CCTV is, but figure I’ll recognise it when I see it. But I don’t clock any anti-theft measures at all. It’s possible that they’re too well disguised for me to see them, but given I was able to lift the shell from its case without setting off a snatch and grab alarm, I’m gambling that they won’t have any other form of security either. I swipe the shell.
It feels heavy in my pocket as I walk quickly through the castle. I’m going to put it back once I’m finished with it, so technically it’s not stealing, right? Victor probably wouldn’t object anyway.
Or that’s what I tell myself. And I almost believe it.
Guards and servants step deferentially to the side of the corridor as soon as they see me, bowing until I pass. For once, I prefer it. I can do without the scrutiny. I shut the door to my apartment behind me, my heart pounding like I’ve just robbed a jewellery store.
‘Your Majesty?’ Jules appears in the doorway. She’s doing her best to hide it, but I can tell she’s frustrated with me. I crept out without her. Again. And I just know her unicorn senses can sense exactly how fast my heart is beating, how much adrenaline is pumping through my veins, and has a pretty good idea that I’ve been up to no good.
‘Visiting loverboy again?’ sneers Abby behind Jules. ‘You simply must tell us all about him, just as soon as I’ve had a chance to mix up an anti-nausea elixir.’
‘I think I’ve found…’ I splutter, doing my best to ignore Abby, ‘shells … writing … shells with writing with a message that moves. Merglass.’
They exchange looks, and then glance warily back to me as if I’m crazy.
‘Look.’ I move into the living quarters and take the shell from my pocket, placing it on the table near the window. I hold up the pendant, still clasped around my neck, bending forwards to coax the light through it and onto the shell.
Come on, I think, urging the symbols to life.
‘Your Majesty,’ Jules begins uncertainly, but stops when she notices the movement. The symbols lift off the shell, beginning their dance, weaving into one another. I look up, satisfied and relieved.
‘Is that it?’ Abby says in a monotone. ‘A parlour trick dreamed up by your salty gal pals to fleece tourists?’
I look at Jules. Her expression is more sympathetic, but just as underwhelmed as Abby’s.
‘But it’s … wait, you know about this?’
‘Every market from here to Trinovantum is littered with this junk,’ Abby says as she takes the shell, turning it over to inspect it. ‘It’s better quality than most of the tat you get nowadays. Did Prince Perfect give it to you? A bit tacky, even for him.’
‘Well, no,’ I say. ‘I wouldn’t say he “gave” it to me. We were looking at the shells, and I noticed the symbols moved with the merglass and then Victor left and I —’
‘You took it?’ Abby says, a Cheshire cat smile spreading across her face. ‘You stole from loverboy?’
‘It was just —’
‘This is too good,’ says Abby, throwing her head back and laughing. ‘You can put a crown on her head, but the girl’s always going to be a thief. Can you imagine the scandal when this gets out?’
‘I …’ I begin, preparing my defence, but my cheeks redden as I realise I don’t have one. And the discovery that I swiped something worthless makes it worse.
‘It would be terrible if word ever got out,’ Abby continues, a wicked glint in her eyes. ‘Of course, you can rely on us to never breathe a word to another soul. For a price …’
Before she can continue, Jules raises a hand, motioning for us to hush. Jules sniffs at the air and then pivots, fixing her gaze on something behind me.
‘What?’ I ask, turning to look, but she quickly shakes her head, signalling for quiet. I look to Abby, who shrugs her shoulders, the glee fading from her face.
I follow Jules’s line of sight, trying to figure out what’s caught her attention. Ostentatious furniture. Opulent fresco. More candles than a shrine. In other words, nothing out of the ordinary. But I know better than to question her instincts.
There’s something about the fresco that has caught her eye. It looks pretty, but otherwise unremarkable: a setting sun over the ocean, with Fae descending angelically from the heavens. Gaudy, and perfectly in keeping with Grigio decor.
I look more closely. There’s something about the water. The faintest flicker. It’s rippling.
I instinctively take the shell back from Abby and slip it into my pocket.
Jules stops in front of the fresco. She cocks her head to one side, as though she’s visiting a gallery, taking in a masterpiece. She moves closer, brushing it lightly with a finger, and then yanks her hand back in surprise. Drops of real water drip off her hand and onto the floor.
I stare in wonder. Jules lunges and reaches directly into the fresco with both hands. She grunts as she wrestles with something. I can’t see what she’s got. Sounds of yelping, scrambling, and sloshing water emerge from the painting as a guy comes tumbling onto the dining room floor, water dripping from his dark curls and puddling at Jules’s feet. Behind Jules, the fresco knits back together, threads and fibres weaving in and out as they restore themselves to their original state. If it wasn’t for the fact that Jules is dragging a soaking wet guy across the room, you’d swear it was just another fresco.
‘No!’ the intruder says as Jules throws him into a chair as if discarding a ragdoll, before holding out her knuckledusters and silently reciting an incantation. The wood of the chair springs to life, saplings sprouting from ancient timber, snaking tight around the guy’s legs, wrists, arms and shoulders. Jules pats him down, checking for weapons. Finding none, she extends her left hand, like a surgeon waiting to be handed a scalpel. A moment later a sharp knife flies into the room, its blade slicing end-over-end, the handle landing squarely in the palm of her hand.
I get a better look at the interloper, whose eyes are now fixed on the blade. Struggling against his bonds, the guy switches his gaze to me.
‘Signorina, please, we do not have time for this.’
Massimo? The gondolier?
Jules holds the blade to Massimo’s neck. ‘How did you know Her Majesty was here?’
He looks up at Jules. ‘I am a gondolier,’ he says simply.
Jules turns to me, ‘Your Majesty, I counsel —’
‘He can be trusted,’ I begin. ‘Although he did lead me directly to the griffin.’
‘Signorina, please, I was not to know about the griffin. The sporgente, we could handle, but the griffin was unexpected. For me also.’
‘So unexpected that you deserted me as soon as you had the chance?’ I say. ‘And you didn’t look that surprised when you saw I was being dragged into the canal.’
‘I was taking you to Queen Melusina. When I saw you in the water, I knew her mer-sisters would deliver you to her safely.’
‘Why should I believe you?’
‘Signorina, why would I come here?’
‘To finish the job?’ I suggest, folding my arms.
‘Unarmed? Surrounded by Grigio guards?’ His incredulous eyes travel to Jules. ‘And her?’
He has a point. Without a good reason or a weapon, breaking into the apartment of a Fae queen is a suicide mission.
‘How did you even get in here?’ Jules says.
‘The guild has ancient portals all over the city,’ he says. ‘But that is not important right now. Queen Melusina must speak with you,’ he says, urgency in his voice.
‘Is it about the shell?’ I ask.
‘This, I cannot tell. I am but a humble messenger.’
‘Well, messenger boy, you go tell your fishy queen she can have the shell. It’s worthless rubbish anyway,’ says Abby.
‘You must come now.’
‘Come where?’ I say.
‘Squero di San Trovaso. The gondola boatyard on the other side of the lagoon.’
‘In Volgaris?’ Jules looks suspicious.
‘It is a guild safe house, offering sanctuary to the mersisters throughout the ages.’
I pause, deciding how much I should trust him. I’m not thrilled at the prospect of going back to Volgaris and potentially bumping into Agent Eight and her radio wave gun, but I figure I’m safe so long as Jules is with me. And I need to know the significance of the shell, just in case Abby is wrong.
‘Looks like I’m going to the boatyard,’ I say.
‘I counsel that you do not attempt this mission on your own, Your Majesty,’ Jules says.
‘You can come, Jules.’
‘As First Officer of the Protectorate I must counsel against spontaneous and unplanned travel away from the Grigio quarters.’
‘And your counsel as my friend?’
‘I will accompany you, Your Majesty.’ Jules turns to Massimo and snarls at him. ‘If you are lying, gondolier, you will regret it.’ She launches the knife at him with a flick of her wrist, and Massimo and I both flinch as it lands on the chair right between his legs.
She rotates her knuckledusters. The saplings retreat into the chair, disappearing into the polished wood. Massimo rubs his wrists.
I turn to Abby. ‘Are you coming?’
‘You bet. I love a show.’
‘Please, Signorina. This way. Hurry,’ Massimo says, rushing back toward the fresco.
Abby narrows her eyes. ‘I don’t do water.’
‘It’s not like we can just waltz out of the castle with a dripping wet human,’ I point out.
‘We can transfer,’ Jules says. ‘But your Majesty, I counsel we enter the human realm under the veil of night to minimise the chances of detection.’
‘Queen Melusina does not like to wait,’ Massimo says.
I don’t like to wait either, but the last time I transferred to Volgaris in daylight it didn’t go well.
‘We will meet Melusina at the boatshed at 3am,’ I say to Massimo, figuring that at that time most humans will either be in bed or too drunk to remember what they see.
‘As you wish, Signorina. Till then.’ With a final wary glance at Jules, the gondolier disappears back into the fresco.
My heart’s racing as I zip up my black leather bodysuit. It’s thrilling to get free from the heaviness of my skirts, but it’s not just that. I finally feel like I’m doing something.
I join Jules and Abby downstairs in the apartment, both of them also dressed in bodysuits. Jules’s is the standard-issue brown Protectorate uniform and Abby’s is the colour of blood.
Jules carves a portal in the wall of the foyer. The palatial apartment blurs around us, and then I’m looking at loose planks of wood and rusty corrugated iron.
The night is clear and cool. A light breeze tickles my bare face and hands. Water laps against the dock. The smells of paint and sawdust compete with the ever-present scent of the sea. Salt-encrusted wood-panelled doors are bolted shut behind us with a rusty padlock. Next to the door is a row of straw gondolier hats hanging on hooks.
The place is deserted. Massimo isn’t even here.
‘Now what?’ says Abby, wrapping her arms around her body to warm herself.
As if in answer, I hear the water sluice against the dock. I look across the moonlit canal and see three sharp ripples parting the water. Something’s coming our way, fast.
Abby steps behind Jules.
Metres from the dock, three tailfins breach the surface of the water, then disappear into the inky black just as quickly. Then Melusina and two other mermaids rise up gracefully in front of us. Rena, the one who reminds me of a seahorse, flashes her canines. And the blonde who wanted to snack on my eyeballs sniffs at us like we’re breakfast.
I register the looks of amazement on both Jules and Abby’s faces. For all their dislike of mermaids, seeing them in the flesh is still awe-inspiring.
‘Your Majesty,’ says Melusina.
‘Your Majesty,’ I echo.
‘I come to warn you, halfling.’ Melusina’s face grows grave. ‘You are in more danger than you realise.’
She flicks something towards us and Jules is instantly in front of me as the object lands harmlessly at her feet with a soft, squishy thud. I look down at it. Bluish. Swollen. Flesh.
A finger. A severed finger.
‘Ew,’ Abby says, scrunching up her face.
I know how she feels.
‘Our sister. It is all that remains. Tortured before death.’
I feel like I should offer condolences, but I’m too afraid to open my mouth in case I hurl.
‘One of the Grigio ponies,’ Rena says. ‘Skin the colour of rust, ears full of rings. I almost had him.’
‘Wynstar,’ I say.
‘You know this one?’ she asks.
‘Yes, but he’s not from House Grigio. He’s House Raven.’
‘You sent him?’ Melusina looks to her sisters, who bare their sharp teeth.
‘He serves my uncle,’ I say quickly.
Melusina nods, indicating for the other two to stand down.
‘Do you know what Wynstar wanted from your sister?’ I ask.
‘His master wished to learn my business with you,’ Melusina says.
I rub my hands over my face. First the sporgente and now this. I’ve heard nothing from my uncle since I became Queen. The Chancellor has told me often that the Order is committed to searching all three realms for Damius to bring him to justice, but they’ve been unable to locate him. Then again, the Chancellor has also been telling me that they are committed to finding my mother. And look how successful that’s been.
‘Did your sister tell Wynstar of Her Majesty’s interest in the scroll?’ Jules asks.
‘We must assume so,’ Melusina says.
‘He’s going to try to find it before I do, isn’t he?’ I say.
Melusina’s eyes bore into mine. ‘If he should succeed, all hope for your mother is lost.’
I want to say that I’d have a much better chance of finding the scroll if I had my power. And while we’re on the subject, I’d like to ask the mermaid queen if she knows anything about why it’s missing or how I can get it back. But I say nothing. It’s not smart to broadcast it.
‘I might have found something that will help locate the scroll,’ I say, pulling the merglass shell from my pocket. I can practically feel Abby roll her eyes behind
me. But I have to at least ask Melusina before I dismiss it.
Melusina gasps. ‘Where did you get this? Those Grigio thieves,’ she spits.
‘Is it valuable?’ I ask, looking over to Abby.
Melusina rises up on her tail and I pass the shell to her. ‘This is the original merglyph,’ she says, turning it over. ‘The one from which all the counterfeits have been modelled.’
‘How could you possibly know that?’ says Abby.
‘How does a seal know to fear a shark?’ Melusina retorts. ‘Some truths are as universal as they are self-evident. Do you possess the merglass?’
I unclasp the pendant and hand it to her.
‘Conjure a light source,’ she commands.
‘Jules … some light?’ I try to make it sound like an order, but it comes out more as a plea.
Jules raises her knuckledusters to produce a shaft of light as brilliant as the sun. Melusina angles the pendant towards it. The refracted light shines onto the shell and, just like before, the symbols begin to dance.
‘See?’ Abby says. ‘Just an optical illusion.’
Melusina bares her canines at Abby. ‘You would do well to broaden your mind, youngling. The ways of the Art are as wide and deep as your ignorance.’
I can’t help but smirk. We stand in silence, watching as the symbols come to life, dancing before our eyes and eventually settling back onto the shell. Rather than the spiral of words I saw at the palace, this time the symbols look like an engraving. The image is rough and imprecise. I make out concentric circles with dome shapes in the centre.
‘This means something to you?’ I ask Melusina, but before she can answer I catch a flash of terror cross her and her sisters’ faces. Without a word, the mermaids dive below the water and are gone, leaving a wave in their wake. In the distance, there’s a rumble of a motor. A boat, coming our way.
Behind us, I hear the thud of boots and turn to see three figures – three big beefy guys dressed in black commando gear. Guards from the Agency. They’re each carrying guns with oversized muzzles.
Jules is already moving, striding towards the guards. She raises her arms in front of her, bringing her knuckledusters together, blue light crackling around them. One of the guys fires. There’s a loud pop, like compressed air being released.
