“This woman is formerly a mermaid, transformed by the Sea Witch. She’s only been human for a few days,” he said, switching back to the Edeltung language so Little Emblyn could understand.
“I…What?” Little Emblyn gasped.
“She will be staying here, and you will attend to her. She is a princess,” Galahad went on. “But she doesn’t know how to eat with utensils or plates or bowls, so you will teach her to eat as you would a small child. It would be best if you ate with her and taught by example.”
“Yes…Yes, sir,” Little Emblyn stammered.
“I will be in the library,” Galahad strode out of the dining room and into the sitting room. “Do not disturb me.”
Galahad pushed open the side pane of one of the library windows, and Scraw hopped in, bearing a tightly-folded letter. Galahad took it from him, and the great bird flapped noisily in and perched on a footstool near the fire. Galahad shut the window, broke the seal on the letter, unfolded it and read it as he paced back toward the light of the hearth.
Galahad,
I am grateful that you have arrived on Metern safely. How does Thondorfax like the ocean? It’s been a long time since he’s been able to run through the waves, hasn’t it? I’m pleased that the prince seems like a good man. I was fond of his father, and his grandfather, though his great-grandfather was a bit of a stick-in-the-mud.
Rose has reached the palace of Glas without incident, and it is as we suspected: buried in ice and snow, and Queen Iskyla of Iss is sitting at Prince Nikolas’ right hand. Unfortunately, Rose’s welcome was not as congenial as yours: Prince Nikolas has threatened her with death if she doesn’t cure his headaches. Of course, it is illegal to harm a Curse-Breaker, but he may not know this. In any event, Rose is equipped with Dust Boots. I do worry for her, but I still believe her temperament is ideally suited to this problem. I assure you, however, that should she require help, you are the first person I will send for.
Please write the moment you have word of the guardian of the seal, and what has happened to him or her. If you need any of us to come to you, let us know—the protection of that seal is vital.
Always,
Reola
Galahad folded the paper back up and tucked it into his inside pocket, then moved to the writing desk. He swiftly lit the lamp, pulled out a fresh piece of paper, took up the quill, and began to write.
Reola,
I just received your letter a minute ago, but since you commanded me to write right away if I had discovered what happened to the guardian, I will.
Just this evening, as Thondorfax and I were scouting the beach, we came across a young woman, naked and battered and unable to speak . I soon discovered a rune upon her hand: the ancient rune for M. I realized that she is Princess Meira, daughter of King Strom. A mermaid. I took her back to the house with me, had her bathed and dressed by the house maid, Little Emblyn, and I attempted to speak with her. She can of course understand Brimtung, but cannot answer out loud. By asking yes and no questions, I was able to confirm that she is, as I suspected, the guardian of the Eastern Seal. I further discovered that she has taken a spell from Myrkur, the Sea Witch, to make her human. Princess Meira has fallen in love with Prince James, whom she recently rescued from a shipwreck . However, as I soon learned, the witch Myrkur took Princess Meira’s voice in exchange, and also placed a Rule upon the spell: Princess Meria must marry the prince, or she will die. And if the prince marries someone else, Princess Meira will die.
This is a blatant trap. The witch Myrkur has designs upon the seal, arranged the prince’s shipwreck, and then took advantage of Princess Meira’s attachment to the one she rescued. After all, the witch has placed Princess Meira in an impossible situation. How, after all, can a young woman with no fortune, no property, no breeding, no knowledge of court, and no language hope to win the favor of a royal prince? Worse than that, this may be a Love rule—which would require the prince not only to marry her, but to love her. Now that I think on it, I believe this is the case here—because that’s exactly what I would do if I were a Curse-Breather and I wanted to make certain that the guardian died.
I would rather not confront Myrkur, for dealing with her is to deal with Diabhal. I am instead going to attempt to work Myrkur’s curse against her—for this spell’s characteristics certainly match those of a curse. I will give Princess Meira a Teanga potion, so she can at least understand everyone, and I will dress her and teach her, and introduce her at court. I mean to give her every advantage, and persuade Prince James as best I can to form an attachment to her. I will not tell him the truth about her, as a marriage of pity could prove fatal.
If you have any further suggestions as to how I ought to proceed, please share them.
Your servant,
G. Stormcrane
Chapter Five
Tap, tap, tap.
Galahad’s head came up from his book. He sat near the tall window in the library at the writing desk, poring over the book he had referenced last night: The Seven Seals of Edel.
He turned to see Little Emblyn in the doorway—she’d rapped on the doorframe.
“Begging your pardon, sir. The princess is dressed and ready,” Little Emblyn said. “May she come in?”
“Yes, thank you, Little Emblyn,” Galahad answered. The maid dipped a curtsey, then turned aside to let the young woman behind her pass by.
Princess Meria cautiously stepped into the study, and into the light that came in from the windows. She wore a plain green dress with a white sash and long sleeves. Her hair had been braided behind her, and the dark plait hung down past the sash. She wore simple brown slippers, and no jewelry. She didn’t look as pale as yesterday—she had color in her lips, and her grey eyes were as bright as ever. She came to a stop in the center of the room, and clasped her slender hands together. She bit her lip.
Galahad considered her for a moment, then shut his book and stood up. He faced her, but didn’t advance.
“I’ve sent a letter to the master Curse-Breakers at Maith about what you’ve done, and the predicament we all now find ourselves in,” he said, his voice low and even, as he spoke in Brimtung again. “I have no doubt that their concern will be sharp and severe.”
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t break his gaze.
“However,” he went on. “I have also assured them that I will do everything I can to make certain that Myrkur does not gain control of that seal. And at the moment, the only way to do that is to begin a courtship between you and Prince James, encourage him to fall in love with you, and wed you before his uncle or any of his advisors can choose a wife for him.”
Her eyes flashed, and she blushed again—and a hint of a smile danced across her mouth.
Galahad folded his arms, and took three slow steps toward her. “You have appealing looks and the bearing of someone of breeding, but as far as assets or property that would be advantageous to a land-bound prince, you have nothing. No estate, no house, no jewels, no family name, no dowry—and no ability to speak.”
Meira ducked her head, and squeezed her hands together. Galahad tilted his own head, watching her features.
“All spells and curses have Rules. From my experience, this type of spell most likely has a Love Rule, meaning that the prince cannot simply marry you. He has to love you.” Galahad regarded her. “Which is why we can’t risk telling him the truth about who you are, because if he marries you out of pity, it may violate the Rule and could kill you.”
Her brow furrowed hard, but she still didn’t look up at him. Galahad lifted his head.
“I’m certain my masters will have some suggestions when they write back to me,” he said. “In the meantime, I am going to introduce you at court, and to the prince, as an apprentice Curse-Breaker who has come to help me. I will arrange meetings and invitations for you. You will do everything I say, and do your best to endear yourself to the prince. Do you understand?”
She cautiously glanced up at him, and nodded.
“Good.
And one more thing.” He turned and picked up a bag from the floor, reached his hand in—
And a vial sprang into his grasp. He pulled it out, and set the bag on a chair. He held the vial up so the sunlight glittered through the ruby-red liquid inside.
“This is a Teanga Potion,” he said stepping toward her again. “It will enable you to understand Edeltung, so you can at least comprehend what the prince is trying to say to you.” He popped the cork, and held it out to her. “One swallow will do.”
She stared at it, then at him. But he didn’t move. She squeezed her hands together to tightly her knuckles turned white.
“If you haven’t realized it yet,” Galahad said quietly. “There is no one else here that can help you.”
For another moment, she didn’t move. Then, at last, she lifted her hand and took it from him. Wincing, she studied the mouth of the bottle, then brought it to her mouth and took a single swallow.
She quickly pulled it away, and made a face, and pushed the bottle back at him. Galahad took it, replaced the cork, and put the bottle back in his bag. When he turned back to her, he found her covering her mouth with her hand.
“Well,” he said in Edeltung. “What do you think?”
Her head whipped around, and her eyes went wide.
She swallowed again, hard, and her hand drifted down from her mouth.
“Clear enough?” he asked, picking up his gloves from his chair. Stunned, she nodded. He put on his gloves.
“We won’t waste any time, then,” he said. “The prince invited me any time I like to have breakfast with him. So we’ll accept that offer. Come.”
Thondorfax’s hooves thundered upon the dry road and the wind gusted through his mane, Meira’s skirts, and Galahad’s cape. Meira sat in front of Galahad, side-saddle, leaning back against his chest. He bound his left arm around her slender waist and held the reins loosely with his gloved right hand. She gripped strands of Thondorfax’s mane with both hands, white-knuckled, her whole body stiff.
High, billowing white clouds rolled through a bright blue sky as the two of them rode over the spreading green hills, dashing past herds of sheep and market carts pulled by mules. The sun flashed across the expanse of the sea, warming the winds and filling the breeze with the sweet scent of spring grasses.
Up ahead waited a stretch of stone wall climbing with vines, and their road led to its gate, and into the ancient wood beyond. Meira, her head right next to Galahad’s, looked quickly back and forth, up and down the length of this wall, and at the towering trees. The next moment, they had passed through the gate and into the shade. Galahad leaned back slightly, and Thondorfax snorted and slowed his pace. The high winds tossed the branches of the beeches, and birds burst from their hiding places at the horse’s rough entrance. Meira jerked, instinctively pressing back against Galahad.
“It’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said as Thondorfax settled into a smooth canter. But her body remained locked and hard against his.
They flashed down the forest track, the sun dappling the road ahead. Squirrels scuttled away, starlings screeched and squawked, and sparrows twittered in the distance. Meira’s panicked breathing beat against Galahad’s ribs, and soon she just lowered her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Galahad adjusted his hold on her and said nothing.
Soon, though, they approached the edge of the wood, and emerged into the sunlight, and the tiered palace garden. Galahad slowed Thondorfax to a careful walk.
“Princess,” Galahad prompted. “You’ll want to see this.”
Meira forced her head up, and Galahad sensed her open her eyes…
And gaze up the splendid cascade of floral color in the gardens, the dazzle of sunlight in the spilling fountains, and far ahead, the shining white mountain peak that was the domed towers and decorated battlements of Perlkastel.
She let out a deep, awed sigh. Galahad didn’t comment, just guided Thondorfax up the side path toward the main gate of the palace. Hooves then clattered on stone, and the iron gate loomed over them.
Two different guards marched out from their gatehouses and inclined their heads.
“Curse-Breaker Galahad Stormcrane, I presume?” said one with a beard.
“Yes,” Galahad answered. “I’ve come to accept the prince’s invitation for breakfast.”
“Of course, sir,” said the guard, and immediately the two men turned and opened the gate, without saying a word about Meira or Thondorfax. Galahad nudged Thondorfax forward, and the horse gingerly trod through the gate and onto the polished floor of the entryway. Then, he halted, and Galahad scooted back, and slipped directly off the back of the horse. He landed lightly, then came round and held out his hands to Meira.
She stared down at him, her eyes so pale they were almost colorless, and her face white.
“Come. You must have more courage,” Galahad reminded her, beckoning with his fingers.
Her jaw tensed, her hands clenching on Thondorfax’s mane.
Then, she slowly unwound her fingers from that tangle, and stretched out her left hand toward him. He caught it, then guided it up to his shoulder.
“Lean to me,” he instructed, stepping closer and tapping her waist. She did, and he took hold of her hips as she slipped free, and then lifted her down off the saddle and onto the ground. Immediately, he let go of her and stepped back. She shakily smoothed her hair and skirt, her breathing still jerky and tight, her eyes downcast.
Then, the double doors in front of them creaked and opened—
“Galahad!”
Galahad turned, and Meira’s head came up.
Prince James strode toward down the corridor to them, wearing a cream-colored doublet and trousers adorned with red and gold, and pearl hose with gold shoes. He spread his arms out wide, and beamed a ready smile, his eyes bright as the morning.
Meira gasped.
“Your Highness,” Galahad said. “I hope I’m not intruding, but I came to breakfast with you,” Galahad said.
“Not at all, not at all!” the prince cried. “As I said, you’re welcome any time.” Prince James stuck out his hand and Galahad shook it. Then, almost instantly, the prince turned from him to look at Meira. And he smiled.
“And who have you brought with you?”
Meira blushed, a lovely rose color blooming across her cheeks, apparently unable to keep her eyes off him. She smiled in return.
Galahad imperceptibly drew back, clasping his hands behind him.
“This is Meira, an apprentice Curse-Breaker from Maith,” Galahad said. “She’s come to learn all about the kingdom of Mhuirlan.”
“Indeed?” The prince’s smile grew to a pleased grin. “And how do you find it so far? Is this not the most splendid palace you have ever seen?” He gestured up and behind him. “We’ve always been= quite proud of it. The outer walls are covered with crushed mother-of-pearl, and the roofs of the domes are lapis lazuli all the way from Gormland!”
Meira’s mouth opened, but soon stammered closed, without making a sound.
“What?” the prince laughed. “Do I astonish you with my vanity?”
“She’s mute,” Galahad said quietly, watching her. “A recent accident involving a curse and a witch.”
The prince’s smile fell away.
“Good lord, really?” he said, glancing at Galahad. Meira ducked her head, and squeezed her hands together.
Suddenly, the prince reached out, took up Meira’s hand in both of his, and kissed the back of it. And when he looked up into her face, he kept hold of her hand.
Galahad watched them.
“Forgive me, madam,” the prince said firmly. “For being an idiot who speaks before he thinks.”
Meira quickly shook her head, still blushing prettily, and let out a soft laugh. The prince beamed at her, and finally released her.
“Won’t you join us for breakfast, also?”
She nodded, just as quickly. The prince straightened, and held out his right arm to her.
She suddenly flashed a questi
oning look back to Galahad—
He made a motion that she should take hold of the prince’s arm from beneath.
Biting her lip, she reached out and did so, and the prince secured her hold on him, and started through the doors, Galahad and Thondorfax following behind.
“This is my favorite place to dine,” the prince declared as he pushed open a glass-paned door and led Meira out onto a broad, sun-soaked, curved balcony. The sea spread out before them like a silver plain, shimmering in the morning. Stone planters filled with red flowers lined the balcony railing, and Galahad noticed bees bumbling amidst the blossoms. A table beneath a white cotton umbrella had been set for one, but even as they approached, three white-clad servants busily began setting two more places.
Galahad glanced back. Thondorfax lingered in the shade of the large audience chamber, his shoulder leaning against the doorframe as he looked out at the water.
The prince led Meira around the table and drew out the iron-wrought chair that sat before the already-laid setting. Meira stared at the chair, then looked at the prince, and froze.
“He’s pulling out the chair for you to sit,” Galahad stated.
Meira nodded, then gingerly maneuvered between the table and the chair, and sat down—though her eyes went wide when the prince scooted the chair in.
“The Curse-Breakers at Maith aren’t used to gentry manners,” Galahad said, pulling back his own chair, but waiting until the prince had seated himself before following suit.
“And you’ve never traveled away from home?” the prince asked Meira. The edge of her mouth twitched, and she shook her head—again unable to pull her eyes from him. But, as Galahad watched, the prince gazed back at her, a half smile on his own mouth. Galahad refrained from speaking, and sat back in his chair, listening to the distant cry of the gulls.
“And…” The prince cleared his throat, sat up a little, and addressed Galahad. “How far is the fortress of Maith from here?”
“Have you been to the Eisenzahn Mountains?” Galahad asked.
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