Tide

by Alydia Rackham

  “Yes, Miss,” she managed. “I mean…I mean Madam!”

  And arm in arm, the two young women headed back into Euryor House, Galahad’s warm gaze following them all the way.

  Galahad and Meira rode upon Thondorfax up through the sun-drenched palace gardens, Scraw wafting far overhead. They rounded the palace walls and approached the gardens at a trot, peering over the hedges to the rose beds beyond. No sooner had they paused at the garden gate than King James and Queen Beatrix flung it open and burst out in front of them. They both wore flowing, comfortable white linen, and Queen Beatrix absently held a glass of water in her hand. They stopped in front of the horse, their eyes wide and their mouths open.

  “Lady Meira! Galahad!” Beatrix exclaimed. “What on earth happened?”

  “We got word that Meira was in danger, but no one could find you anywhere after that!” the king cried, shooting them both scolding looks. “Where have you been?”

  “Good morning, James,” Meira said.

  Beatrix dropped her water. The glass shattered on the paving stones.

  “Good lord!” she yelped, slapping her hand to her chest. “Meira!”

  “You can speak?” James stammered. “Wh…How? When did…?”

  “It’s a bit of a long story, Your Majesty,” Meira replied gently. “One that I’ve been wishing very much to tell you.”

  “Well—by all means!” he said, beckoning to her. Meira lifted her leg over the horse’s neck and hopped down—the king caught her hands and steadied her.

  “I am dying to hear this,” Beatrix stepped closer.

  “My queen,” Galahad cut in. “I’m afraid I need your attention for a moment.”

  “Oh!” she blinked. “Truly?”

  “Just for a moment,” Galahad said, swinging down from the saddle and letting go of the reins.

  “Very well,” she smiled at him. “Shall we walk?”

  “Yes, in the palace, if we may,” Galahad gestured to it. He glanced over at Meira.

  “And I’ll tell you my story in the garden,” Meira said to the king. He nodded quickly, and held out his arm to her. She easily took it, and together they started off along the hedges.

  Beatrix watched them with a little smile and narrowed eyes—and then she arched an eyebrow at Galahad.

  “I admit, I am most intrigued, Curse-Breaker,” she said.

  Galahad held out his arm to her, and she looped hers around it. Together, they stepped back through the garden and toward the stairs that led to the palace doorway.

  “Your husband may have told you some of the reason for my being in Mhuirlan,” Galahad began.

  “Yes, he did,” Beatrix replied as they ascended the stairs. “That your masters had detected the absence of the guardian who was to be protecting our great seal. You came to investigate what had happened to him.”

  “Her,” Galahad corrected. “What had happened to her.”

  Beatrix stopped. She faced him, and canted her head sharply.

  “Her?” she repeated, watching him intently. Galahad nodded gravely.

  “It was Meira.”

  Beatrix’s eyebrows went up.

  “Meira! She…You said she was a Curse-Breaker!”

  “I lied,” Galahad answered. “Though, I had good reason.”

  “But…” Beatrix tried. “I’d always thought that the seal was guarded by merfolk!”

  “It was,” Galahad said.

  Beatrix’s mouth opened…and then she let out an astonished laugh.

  “Truly?” she said. “Truly—She was a mermaid?”

  “Yes,” Galahad replied quietly. “But she made a bargain with Myrkur, the Sea Witch.”

  The mirth instantly fell away from Beatrix’s face, and she stared at him.

  “What bargain?”

  Galahad gestured to the corridor before them, and slowly led her forward.

  “That she could be human forever if she married the man she loved,” Galahad said. “But she would lose her voice until then. And, if this man would not marry her, she would die.”

  “Good lord,” Beatrix gasped again. “That is why she couldn’t speak?”

  “Mm,” Galahad said.

  “What happened?” Beatrix demanded. Their footsteps echoed down the long, pearly hallway.

  “I eventually worked out a way to transfer guardianship of the seal from her to someone else,” Galahad explained. “Which brings me to the reason I needed to speak to you.”

  Beatrix halted in the center of the corridor and faced him, her brow furrowed. Galahad took a breath, picked up her hand, and held it in both of his.

  “Your Majesty,” he said gravely. “You are now the guardian of the Seal of Mhuirlan—and that guardianship will be taken up by your heirs, and theirs, until your house no longer rules these lands.”

  “Me,” she said, her voice low. He nodded once.

  “Take this,” he said, and pressed something into her hand. She turned it over, and gazed down at a glimmering blue dragon scale.

  “I gave this to Meira,” he said. “She wanted you to have it. It’s a scale from the dragon king of Gormland—it bears royal, protective magic. Put it on a chain and wear it, and then pass it to your firstborn when he or she ascends to the throne. Your elvish blood already makes you strong—but this will make you even stronger.”

  Beatrix closed her fingers around the scale, and held it against her heart. But then, her eyes sought his again.

  “But what about Meira?” she asked. “How is it that she can speak again?”

  Galahad allowed himself a ghost of a smile.

  “I married her,” he murmured.

  Beatrix said nothing for an instant.

  Then, a vivid, glowing look filled her features.

  “You did,” she whispered. She gave him a saucy smile. “I thought you might.”

  He blinked.

  “Oh, yes,” Beatrix said lightly, glancing up and away. “Practically the only thing we ladies talked about the night before my wedding was how madly in love with her you were.”

  Galahad’s lips parted and his face grew hot—but he could think of nothing to say. The queen winked at him. He cleared his throat and looked the other way.

  Just then, at the far end of the corridor, where the door opened to the garden, Meira and the king appeared in silhouette. They faced each other, clasping hands. The king leaned toward her, clearly listening with all his might. Meira spoke quietly and gravely, and Galahad could not hear what they were saying.

  “Why do I get the feeling…” Beatrix mused, her shoulder brushing Galahad’s arm. “That Meira is telling him an entirely different story?”

  “I believe she is,” Galahad acknowledged. “One that you should probably tell your children one day.”

  He felt Beatrix give him a curious look, but he only watched as King James slowly sank to his knees before Meira, and pressed two fervent kisses to the backs of her hands. Meira freed one hand, and rested it among the king’s golden curls. The king lifted his face to her and shook his head. Meira smiled at him, gripping his hands.

  Then, the king arose, took hold of her, and hurried up the corridor with her in tow. And when the king came near enough, Galahad saw his beaming face shining with tears.

  “My love, what is it?” Beatrix cried.

  “Oh, darling—the most splendid…I can’t, I must tell you later.” The king leaned in and kissed his wife, but kept hold of Meira’s hand. “And I must give this beautiful saint back to you!” he laughed, pushing Meira toward Galahad. Meira laughed and easily gave way, slipping her arm around Galahad’s waist. He draped his arm around her shoulders, and she laid her head against the left side of his chest.

  “These two were married!” The king exclaimed, waving at them and then wiping the tears from his face. “Can you believe that?”

  “Yes,” Beatrix gave another wink to Meira, and wrapped her arm around her own husband.

  “What did he need to tell you?” the king asked her, still sniffing and d
rying his eyes.

  “I shall tell you later,” Beatrix smiled at him. “I think we’ll have a very entertaining evening.” And they laughed together—joined by Meira. Galahad simply bent his head, and kissed her hair.

  “Well, where are you off to now?” the king asked them, pulling Beatrix in close. “Or will you manage to stay a while?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Galahad said. “We’re going to Anhaga.”

  “What’s in Anhaga?” Beatrix asked.

  “His parents,” Meira beamed.

  “Oh, indeed!” the king nodded. “Yes, you must visit them, of course.” And then he gazed at Galahad, his expression turning solemn. “But truly I…I owe you two such a debt.” He glanced at Meira. “What can I do to repay you?”

  “I want Little Emblyn,” Meira said directly.

  “You—You want to take her with you?” the king asked. Meira nodded.

  “I found her crying in the library this morning,” she said. “And when I asked her if she wouldn’t like to travel with us, she said she would, if only you would let her.”

  “By all means, then, she shall go!” the king declared. “She’s young and brave and resourceful, and she’s served you well. She deserves to see more of the world.”

  “I quite agree,” Beatrix said.

  “Are you to leave now, then?” the king asked—a shadow of pain crossing his face.

  Galahad’s heart panged.

  “Yes, this afternoon,” he answered. He took a tight breath. “But…At the very latest…we shall try to return for our anniversary.”

  “Oh, yes!” Beatrix cried. “We’ll celebrate together! And we’ll have the grandest party anyone’s ever seen—all your masters can come.”

  Meira squeezed Galahad’s waist, and at long last, he gave the king and queen a genuine smile.

  “We look forward to it.”

  Meira then pulled loose of Galahad, stepped in, and embraced the queen. Beatrix gladly hugged her back, playfully rocking her back and forth. Meira released her then, and turned to the king. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight, and—with sudden emotion—the king bound her up in his embrace and pressed his face to her shoulder.

  “I shall never forget you, little mermaid,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

  She backed up, and kissed his forehead. More tears fell down his cheeks, but he smiled like sunshine. Meira then reached back and felt for Galahad’s hand. He took it…

  But then he let go, closed the distance, and embraced the king.

  The king instantly replied, holding strongly to him in return. For a moment, Galahad shut his eyes, letting the power in his heart flow through his hands, and breathed:

  “Eagna.”

  He felt warmth pass into the king and resonate through his frame. He backed up and took the king by the shoulders.

  “Do you remember what I said to you when we first met?” he asked, holding his gaze. “That your feeling of gratitude for your life would pass?”

  The king chuckled.

  “I do.”

  Galahad squeezed his shoulders, and shook his head.

  “I don’t believe that’s true.”

  The king laughed, and gave him a sincere smile.

  Galahad slapped his hand down on the king’s left shoulder, then let him go.

  “Thank you so much for your hospitality,” Galahad said. “And know that I speak with authority when I tell you that you are the kindest and most gracious monarchs in Edel.”

  This left them speechless for a moment—enough time for Galahad to entwine his fingers with Meira’s, and to guide her toward the doorway. Together, with the king and queen in tow, they trailed down the garden steps and passed through the gate, where Thondorfax and Scraw were waiting.

  “Oh!” Meira said in afterthought, spinning around. “Where are the knights? We wanted to say goodbye to them.”

  “I had to send them off yesterday,” the king answered. “Urgent business in Albain.”

  Galahad frowned.

  “What kind of business?”

  “Apparently, some squire has pulled a sword from a stone!” the king laughed. “And now he’s laying claim to the throne! I sent Lance, Tristan and Gawain that direction straightaway.”

  Galahad exchanged a glance with Meira.

  “Perhaps,” the queen spoke up. “After you’ve visited your parents, you may want to pay Camelot a visit?”

  “Yes,” Galahad mused. “We may do that.”

  Thondorfax snorted, and pawed the ground. The queen giggled.

  “He’s ready to be off!”

  “Yes—he’s the master, after all,” Galahad smirked. He took up the reins and held the great horse still whilst Meira mounted up, and then he followed her. He settled in the saddle behind her, and then looked down at the two young monarchs. Silence fell.

  At long last, he took a breath.

  “Be always as good and kind and humble as you are in this moment,” he said. “And your reign shall be long, prosperous, and happy.”

  The king and queen smiled up at them. Galahad lifted his hand in farewell, and they mirrored it. Then, he urged Thondorfax into a trot, and the great horse carried them up across the sunbathed hills, toward the Ruined Mount. Scraw, with a cackling cry, flapped out of the hedges and followed.

  For half an hour, he and Meira rode at a leisurely pace, the briny gusts tossing their hair and clothes. The grasses smelled sweet and fragrant, and pink flowers bloomed beside the lane. Finally, they drew up before the ancient forest wall, and drew to a stop.

  “Is this where the old fortress is?” Meira asked softly. “The Ruined Mount?”

  “Yes,” Galahad answered. “I wanted to see if Myrkur was still here.”

  Meira turned her head, and the crown of it touched Galahad’s chin.

  “Is she?”

  “No,” Galahad murmured. “She’s retreated. Gone back into the sea.”

  Galahad felt Meira sigh. He closed his eyes, drinking in the smell of her—and wondered if she would always carry about her the perfume of roses and sea wind.

  And, at last, he gave in to the temptation, bent his head, and tenderly kissed her neck.

  She shivered and sighed again, leaning her head back on his shoulder.

  “Do you want to go to Camelot?” he murmured against her skin.

  “I will go wherever you go,” she whispered. “Your life is mine, remember?”

  A sweet, aching agony traveled all through Galahad’s chest, and he lifted his face. She turned, and looked up at him over her right shoulder—so close to him. His gaze traced her features as he fought to form words eloquent enough…

  She wrapped her right hand up around the back of his head, leaned up, and pressed a kiss to his mouth. He let go the reins and encircled her with his arms, cradling her neck with his right hand, drawing her in as close as she would come, letting the mingled winds of the moors and the seas swirl in a reckless, wild embrace around them both.

  THE END

  OTHER BOOKS BY ALYDIA RACKHAM

  The Beowulf Seeker

  The Riddle Walker

  The Last Constantin

  The Campbell River

  The Paradox Initiative

  Lady Rackham

  Christmas Parcel: Sequel to Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol

  The Mute of Pendywick Place and the Torn Page

  The Mute of Pendywick Place and the Scarlet Gown

  The Mute of Pendywick Place and the River Thames

  The Mute of Pendywick Place and the Irish Gamble

  The Mute of Pendywick Place and the Ghost of Robin Hood’s Bay

  Christmas at Pendywick Place

  Dear David: The Private Diary of Basil Atticus Collingwood

  Scales: A Fresh Telling of Beauty and the Beast

  Glass: Retelling the Snow Queen

  TIDE: Retelling the Little Mermaid

  Curse-Maker: The Tale of Gwiddon Crow

  Bauldr’s Tears: A Retelling of Loki’s Fate
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  Alydia Rackham’s Fairytales

  Amatus

  Galatea: A Novella of Eliza Doolittle and Henry Higgins

  Linnet and the Prince

  The Web of Tenebrae

  The Rooks of Misselthwaite Book I

  The Oxford Street Detectives

  The Last Scene

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