by Jordi Burton
When had her life become such a mess? Usually, after you defeated the villain, you lived happily ever after. The fairy tales never explained what happened after you won, all the damage you’d have to clean up, the people you’d lost. Was she even capable of handling it without her mother, or her grandmother? Everything she’d done, she’d done with someone else’s help.
She needed to get a grip.
Burying her hands in the soft, damp moss around her, she closed her eyes. The smell of rain and dewy grasses filled her nose, and she breathed deep.
During her time in the human realm, she’d studied the art of ruling with her mother, learning all the histories, the languages, the customs. Mostly, it was fun, a decent distraction from the fact that they were being hunted by the Shadows. But sometimes, when she stopped to really think about ruling, about how her becoming Queen of Jacqueline meant that her mother had passed away, it felt overwhelming. Those times, she always pictured the Earth Lake, or how she remembered it from her trips as a small child. It grounded her in her surroundings, and allowed her to really think.
Now was one of those times where she’d needed it, needed the sound of the waterfall, the smell of the earth and flowers to help her sort through the mayhem in her mind. As she sat, her thoughts became clearer. She sorted out her priorities, making a mental list in her head to add to all the others piling up on her desk.
“Mortam?” she called. His robust figure appeared immediately bellow the branch. “Can you draft a letter for me?”
He nodded. “Of course, my Princess.”
Before she could tell him what she wanted, however, a flash of pale purple smoke appeared before her. She waved away the smoke, finding a scroll hovering in its wake. Anastasia plucked it out of the air, frowning at the cresting wave royal seal of the mermaids.
All letters addressed to her went through the appropriate channels in the castle. The sorcerer messenger, who sent the letter, would connect to her personally with magic, but Valdon’s wards around the castle made sure every letter went through the royal messengers and pages. This letter, however, came directly to her from the royal city of Seathium. Opening the letter, she quickly scanned the hastily-written words:
Anastasia,
I hope this letter finds you well. There has been a disturbing development in Seathium this morning. A young mermaid was found onland, upside down, her ankles nailed to a tree, the tips of her fingers burned. I would never want to share such a horrific happening with you. However, a parchment with your name on it was pinned to her chest. Just thought you should know.
Yours truly,
Eala Lanana
Anastasia ran her fingers over her pendant, disgust flooding through her. How could someone do that to another person? And why was her name pinned to that poor mermaid’s chest? Gods and Angels, she was glad the prince of the mermaids managed to write to her directly.
Reaching out a hand, she let the tree deposit her beside Mortam. Tucking the letter into her bodice, she turned her back on the lake and headed for the forest.
“Is everything well, my Princess?” Mortam questioned.
“We need to go to Seathium.”
Neither guard responded, but rather took up their positions on either side of her as they returned to the castle. As soon as they strode through the front door, a young messenger raced up to them, holding a pile of letters.
“These came for you, Your Highness,” the young boy squeaked. He’d been her page for nearly a month now, and was still too intimidated to look her in the eye.
“Thank you, Fommen.”
He bowed and raced away, flushed embarrassment creeping up his cheeks.
Anastasia tucked the letters under her arm, making her way back up to her study. There, Lili had returned to her desk, and was whittling away at a block of wood. She glanced up, her brown eyes unfocused, as Anastasia entered. Tucking her vibrant red hair behind her ears, she got to her feet, forgetting her woodwork.
“What’s wrong, my Princess?”
Anastasia waved away her concerns. “Would you please contact Seathium and let Prince Eala know I would like to meet with him?”
Lili bowed. “Of course.”
Moving into the study, she dropped the letters onto the desk. Pulling out a fresh parchment, she crafted a letter:
I would like to extend to you a dinner invitation for the night after next, should the date work for you.
Getting to her feet, she handed the letter to Lili. “Have the messenger make nine copies of this.”
“To whom shall they be sent?”
“The Princes of the realms.”
Lili nodded. “Prince Eala said he can meet with you right away. You can portal to Seathium and he will meet you at the Council Hall.”
“Thank you.”
Gathering her papers, Lili hurried from the room. Anastasia stepped out into the hall, collecting Mortam and Gath. Together, they made their way to the gardens, the best place to open a portal on the castle grounds. Pulling his portal tool from his pocket, Gath pressed the ashen triangular stone to the skin of his forearm. The runes on the face of the tool burned painlessly into his arm, before swirling up into the air and creating a golden doorway. When it opened, the pale skies of Seathium sat on the other side.
Striding through, Anastasia looked around. It had been many years since she’d been inside the Council Hall in the mermaid realm, the one place in Seathium that was made for visitors who couldn’t breathe underwater.
They stood inside a series of opaque, bubble-like domes. Damp moss, wet with seawater, made up the floors, and curtains of dried seafoam hung like doors in curved archways. Bioluminescent fish flitted in bowled sconces, illuminating the dank halls. The air smelled brackish, and a thin, crusty layer of salt clung to every surface. The floor squished beneath them, water pooling around their feet. Anastasia removed her sopping slippers, letting her toes sink into the moss.
“Anastasia!”
She glanced up, immediately recognizing Eala Lanana, the Prince of the Mermaids. He looked as most mermaids did outside of the water: sickly gray skin, matted wet hair, pure black eyes, and rows of shark-like teeth. A tattered pair of trousers hung from his hips, bloated with seawater.
Anastasia grinned, despite his off-putting appearance. “Eala! It has been too long.”
“I’m sorry that these are the circumstances that bring us together.” He frowned. “But I felt you had to know what had happened.”
“I am glad you told me.”
He motioned back the way he came. “I shall take you to her.”
Together they strode down the hall. Mortam and Gath followed closely, their hands on the hilts of their swords. When they entered the small chamber just off the main room, they found a young mermaid woman lying on the large sponge structure in the center of the room. A thin sheet covered her body, save for her face, hands, and feet. An older couple, who were obviously the young woman’s parents, stood hunched over her unmoving form. They didn’t so much as glance up as Anastasia and her guards entered.
Eala pulled Anastasia aside, a grim expression upon his face. “Her name was Ourla.”
Anastasia gasped; she recognized the name. As she looked closer at the young woman’s face, she realized she knew her. A memory flashed through her mind, from the Viirean Opera House in the alternate universe: Vlad ran over, flipping his shaggy hair out of his eyes. A young mermaid woman hovered behind him, wearing a strange garment of torn lace and shreds of scale-like fabric.
“Ourla,” he said, “this is Princess Anastasia, Prince Aatu, and Miss Lili.”
“Gods and Angels,” Anastasia breathed.
Eala continued, “She is the only daughter of Cress and Greina, of a noble house in Seathium. We believe that was why she was targeted.”
Swallowing her surprise—she certainly could not tell Eala that she knew this girl, for they had met in the alternate universe—she turned away from Ourla. “Are there any leads as to who did this? Or any idea why?”
“None.”
Motioning to the body, she murmured, “May I?”
Eala nodded. Anastasia crossed the room, approaching Ourla’s parents. They still hadn’t noticed that anyone else was in the room with them. Nor did Anastasia blame them. They’d just lost their only daughter in such a savage and incomprehensible way. Forlornly, Anastasia remembered the Ourla she’d met, the one that alternate universe Vlad had been courting. That young woman had been romantic and kind. She wondered how much this Ourla differed from her counterpart.
Slowly, she reached out and gently touched Ourla’s mother on the elbow. The mermaid glanced up and gasped, her eyes growing wide. Remembering the courtesies her mother taught her, Anastasia took two steps back and bowed. Ourla’s parents woodenly followed suit.
“Princess Anastasia.” Ourla’s mother’s voice came out rough and thick with sorrow.
“I am so very sorry for your loss.”
Ourla’s father narrowed his eyes. “Are you? For your name was tacked to her chest. Like an artist’s name at the bottom of a painting, or, perhaps, as a warning to you. Either way, you are a part of this. Her death is on your hands.”
Though his reaction wasn’t unexpected, it still stung. Anastasia wrung her hands, saying nothing. Eala came up beside her, frowning.
“Anastasia played no part in this.”
“I have many deaths on my conscience, sir,” Anastasia said. “And if your daughter’s is on mine as well, I shall take full responsibility. But I know nothing of this heinous attack.”
Ourla’s mother shook her head. “She was returning home from a stay with my sister in Oceanus. She stays there every spring to spend time with her cousins, as she has since she was a wee girl. Someone must’ve—I don’t understand how—they captured my baby.”
Unsure of what to say, Anastasia turned her attention back to Ourla. True to Eala’s letter, the mermaid’s fingertips had been burnt, and nails driven through her ankles. To be hung upside down, with that unimaginable pain… it felt familiar, as though Anastasia had experienced it before. But how could she have? The only thing she’d had to fear was Adrian and the Shadows, and they’d never hung her upside down.
But what did it mean? Why burn the fingertips? Why nail the girl upside down? And why pin her name on the girl’s chest? Was it just a warning? Or had someone been calling her out? Was this supposed to be some kind of message? The questions assailed her, without any answers. It just didn’t make sense. It wasn’t the Shadows, or Adrian—they had all been magically encased in stone. But the Shadows and their leader weren’t her only enemies. Her own people didn’t trust her and her family. She assumed many other realms felt the same way. Did that constitute murder, though?
Sloshing footsteps sounded a moment before a young mermaid hurried into the room. He approached Eala, averting his gaze from Ourla’s body, and whispered in the mermaid prince’s ear. Eala nodded, sending the young man away.
“Anastasia?”
She went to him. “What’s wrong?”
“It seems you are being summoned back to Sehir.” He shook his head. “Valdon is requesting you leave at once.”
Stunned, she simply stared at Eala. Valdon was summoning her? Was there a Council meeting she’d forgotten? Had something happened to William? Her mother? She quickly turned back to Cress and Greina, bowing to them again.
“I apologize for my hasty exit, but—”
Eala cut her off. “You do not need to apologize, Anastasia. I understand the demands of ruling.”
“Thank you.”
Eala took her hand, pressing it to his lips. “May our interactions not be so far between in the future, yes?”
She smiled. “Of course.”
Eala wordlessly escorted her to the main room of the Hall, where Gath opened a return portal to the royal city of Jacqueline. She waved to Eala before the portal closed, sealing off their realms. Drying her feet in the grass of the royal gardens, she ran up the steps to the castle barefoot, heading for Valdon’s chambers. She found him in the hall just outside the Council chambers, pacing. He looked unnerved, his dark blue eyes narrowed, his mouth set in a hard line. Magic crackled between his fingers.
He rounded on her as she approached. “Where have you been?”
“I—what?”
“Never mind,” he growled.
She stared at him. “What is going on?”
“The werewolves have ended their alliance with Jacqueline. They are pulling their warriors from the Realm Guard.”
“What?”
He narrowed his eyes. “There was supposedly a letter that came this morning for you?”
Anastasia swore under her breath, pushing past him. The letters her page had given her—she hadn’t even opened them, so preoccupied as she was with Ourla’s murder. She took the stairs two-at-a-time, all but running up to her mother’s study. Lili started as she burst through the door, dropping her whittling. Anastasia hardly noticed as she crossed to the desk, grabbing her stack of letters.
Shuffling through them, she found the one with the Hullenian royal seal. Ripping it open, she hastily scanned the official document. She swore again.
“So, it’s true,” murmured Valdon.
She turned to him with wide eyes. “What do I do?”
“There’s not much you can do. But I would contact Mistress Follant and alert her that the alliance has ended.”
Crumpling the letter in her hand, she glowered. “Call a High Council meeting. And the privy council.”
She tossed the letter onto her desk, marching from the room. Lili darted after her, clutching a stack of parchment to her chest.
“My Princess?” Lili held out the parchments. “I have responses to your invitation for dinner.”
Anastasia turned. “And?”
“They all said they were coming.” Lili hesitated. “Should I rescind Prince Niboki’s invitation, given the state of affairs between Jacqueline and Hullenia?”
Anastasia laughed darkly. “No.”
She wanted to see what her ex-fiancé had to say about their end in alliance.
CHAPTER THREE
D ani Dinas paid for her food from the vendor, tucking the spiced meat pastries into the belt of her homely skirt. She’d long since gotten used to the rough material of her clothing in her month in the Sand Isles of Jacqueline. More conservative than her gowns back home, the skirt and tunic covered every inch of bare skin. Though it protected her from the harsh desert sun, she knew the modesty it provided was for more religious purposes. All the women in this part of the Isles dressed this way, their hair hidden beneath headwraps.
Turning, she kept her eyes on the ruby sand, heading back through the market. Hearing children laughing, she looked up. To her utter horror, they hung from a Shadow statue, swinging from its massive claws. She nearly ran to them and tore them off the Shadow herself, but she knew that wasn’t her mission. Instead, she covered her face with her scarf and moved towards the dunes.
Reaching the edge of town, she headed east. A short trek across the sands later, she came upon her tent. Mira was already there, trying to patch a hole in her sock with magic. Her ruby-colored hair quivered with her exertion, until she finally gave up with a groan.
“No luck?”
Mira started, unaware Dani had returned. “Do you ever make any noise?”
“Not when you make that expression.”
Frowning, the sorceress looked down at her foot. “I can open direct portals to other realms, but I can’t darn a sock. I don’t understand.”
Settling back on her bedroll, Dani pulled out the pastries. Eating half of one in one bite, she replied, “Anastasia’s sending a warrior our way. Should be here soon.”
Mira pulled free a thread from her skirt, and created a needle with magic. She worked quietly for a while, fixing the hole in the sock. When she finished, she put it over her foot and wiggled her toes. The edge over her smallest toe was puckered and lumpy, and would surely irritate Mira’s foot in her bo
ot, but the sorceress grinned like she’d just defeated an army.
Cutting off the excess thread with her teeth, she settled back and looked at Dani. “It’s so weird how you call your princess by her first name.”
Dani shrugged. Was it? Anastasia had asked her to when they’d met. And after everything they’d gone through together, it felt natural. Calling her by her title just felt forced. But she remembered how odd it had been to hear William refer to her so informally.
Finishing her pastry, she stretched out on her bedroll. A hole was starting to form at the upper leftmost corner of their tent; little strands of fabric fluttered in the breeze. Dani stared at it, imagining what it would be like to pull on those threads, unravel the whole tent. She could picture herself standing in a pool of strings, lying beneath the harsh sun, surrounded by the ruby sands. For some reason, the idea brought her a sense of peace.
She blew out a breath. “Saw another statue in town today.”
“I’ll add it to the list.”
“You really think we’ll find them all?”
Mira pursed her lips. “We’ll have to. Otherwise, when the Shadows unfreeze or whatever, innocent lives will be lost.”
“I guess.”
Taking a second pastry, Dani tossed the bag to Mira. They ate together in silence, keeping an eye on the entrance to their tent. Anastasia had said noon, but the sun was already high in the sky, heading towards the opposite horizon. Idly, Dani wondered who Anastasia was sending them. So far, they’d been fine just the two of them, locating Shadows and tagging them so they could be removed to an unpopulated location. Why did they need a third person, much less a warrior?
When the whooshing wind of a portal finally tore through their tent, Dani leapt to her feet, drawing her crossbow. Locking a bolt, she moved towards the entrance. Mira followed behind her, her hands raised defensively, alight with red magic.
The gilded portal doorway opened to reveal an evening sky, bringing with it the damp scents of the forest. Longing tore through Dani. She loved the summers of Sehir; they were her favorite time of year.
