Mermaid

by Carolyn Turgeon

  She had been reduced, all her power and beauty, to this one perfect human feeling, and she pushed herself to him, felt like she could not get close enough to him. She opened her strange legs, revealed her weakest spot, and then he was pushing inside of her, and a pain flashed through her, but all the pain that pierced her human body, her legs, was worth it, for him, for this, and she loved it then, all of it.

  I love you I love you! was all she could think. Your soul, my soul.

  THEY LAY BACK on the bed, and his body became a shell as he held her in his arms. She felt so warm, but it was lovely, that feeling, the thin sheen of sweat covering her, the feel of his wet body on hers. After a while, he kissed her cheek and forehead. “We must leave each other now,” he said. “I have to meet with some of my father’s advisers. I will have a servant take you back to your room.”

  She looked at him, worried, and though he smiled at her and stroked her hair, something did not feel right.

  And the next thing she knew, she was walking back through the corridors in her disheveled dress, her body battered, every bit of her feeling bruised, cut. And in the center of her body, a terrible wound. Blood moving down her legs.

  When she arrived in her own room and the servant had left her alone, she stood by the window and stared out at the sea. The sun had set while she was with the prince. She felt a pain inside her—not where he had touched her but somewhere else. Tears dripped down her face, coated her skin in salt.

  She didn’t understand why she felt so empty now. She should have felt full, fuller than she’d ever felt. This was everything she wanted. The prince was in love with her. She was human, and would have immortal life.

  The moon beat down on the water, which shattered it into a thousand splinters of light.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The Princess

  MARGRETHE WAITED BY THE WINDOW OF HER ROOM, wrapped in furs and in her warmest dress, left unlaced, with a pair of men’s wool pants underneath. A small bag sat at her side. Edele stood next to her, dressed the same. Josephine and Laura paced in front of the fire. Almost six weeks had passed since she’d come back to her father’s castle, and now, finally, everything had been arranged. Margrethe had spent the last days crazed with anticipation, as her father continued to ready his men for battle. Then, after what seemed like forever but was really only slightly longer than it took a messenger to travel to the South and back again, just under three weeks, the Southern king had agreed to marry his son, Christopher, to Margrethe in a new alliance. Margrethe and Edele would go together to the South, accompanied by two guards, who would be rewarded for their services. Margrethe and Gregor had planned out the route, and he’d arranged for them to stay with various sympathizers along the way. The king and his court would be diverted when they found a note from Margrethe explaining that she had fled back to the convent, having found her true calling there. The king would send men after her directly, there was no doubt, but she would most likely be under the Southern king’s protection—or close enough to it—before they realized what had happened.

  It was not very far from the truth, Margrethe thought, feeling guilty for lying to Josephine and Laura, who had been like sisters to her for as long as she could remember. But they could not be put in harm’s way, subjected to her father’s anger. As for Edele, Margrethe had been surprised at how quickly her friend had agreed to this new adventure. Of course, Edele was nothing if not high-spirited, but still. Margrethe had expected her friend at least to have some trepidation about committing high treason and risking her life.

  Instead, now, she could see that Edele was struggling to remain calm, she was so excited.

  And when she was honest with herself, Margrethe had to admit that for her, too, it was a grand adventure. The grandest adventure she’d ever had, and maybe ever would have.

  Outside, the snow-covered landscape stretched off in every direction, endless, shining icily under the moon as if it had been sprayed with stars. Any minute the signal would come from below, and the horses would be waiting.

  Her heart pounded in anticipation. In a way, it was as if she were returning to the convent. That she had heard her call. After all, she was returning to the magic and the beauty she’d discovered there, and she would be serving God by bringing peace back to her land.

  She blinked away thoughts of the mermaid, the longing that seized up inside her. It might have been the happiest she’d ever felt, she realized. Sitting on the beach with the mermaid, realizing that there was such breathtaking beauty in the world.

  There will be more, she thought. If everything works as I hope it will, there will be more beauty everywhere.

  “I will pray for your safe journey,” Josephine said.

  “Thank you,” Margrethe replied, taking a deep breath and turning from the window. “Remember, at Mass tomorrow, you are to say that I am ill. Later, you will be as surprised as everyone when they find my note and realize that we’re gone.”

  “You have been back such a short time, my lady,” Laura said. “I am sorry for you to leave so soon.”

  “Oh, but we are happy for you, too,” Josephine said quickly. “It is a true gift, to hear such a call.”

  “But are you sure you’ll be safe there?” Laura asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” Margrethe said. She put her hand on Laura’s shoulder. “Everything is fine. I will be well protected now.”

  “All I want is your happiness, my lady.”

  “I know. It’s time for me to return. I belong there. My father will not understand now, but I hope that he will, with time. That he’ll see my reasons were pure.”

  “He will be very proud of you, my lady.”

  “I hope he will be,” she said. “Eventually.”

  A faint, low whistle sounded from below.

  “We must go,” Edele said, lifting her satchel. She reached for Margrethe’s as well, but the princess stopped her.

  “I will carry it,” she said.

  “Let me help you,” Laura said, rushing forward.

  “No. You are to stay here,” Margrethe said, gently putting her hand on the girl’s arm. “We cannot draw any extra attention to ourselves.”

  Laura nodded and stood back.

  Margrethe and Edele said their good-byes, tearfully kissing and embracing their friends. Then they slipped the hoods of their cloaks over their heads and moved to the outer chamber, and into the corridor, down to the western part of the castle and the side door that led to the stables. It was late, and even most of the servants were sleeping. All the fires were out except a small one in the heart of the kitchen, which an old servant was tending. He did not even look up as the two figures slipped by like silent shadows against the wall.

  As quietly as she could, Margrethe pressed open the outer door. Just beyond it, two guardsmen stood waiting with their horses standing calmly beside them, as still as trees.

  The guards bowed and took their satchels, helped Margrethe and Edele mount the horses. Both girls lifted their skirts, revealing the men’s pants underneath, and they sat the way men did, straddling the backs of the horses. Speed and safety were more important than decorum, Margrethe had believed, much to Edele’s delight.

  They walked their horses slowly across the lawn to the castle drawbridge, the two guards leading them quietly through the snow. Margrethe breathed in the night air, the smell of frost and smoke and wood. It felt fresh, bracing, a world cleaned out and about to be remade. A thrill shot through her as she thought of the grand adventure that awaited them, and she almost laughed out loud. The sky was as clear as she’d ever seen it. She looked back at the castle, where her father slept. The moon shone down on it, and on the drifts of snow all around. She looked at Edele, whose face was shining with anticipation. Margrethe smiled. She felt impossibly small, at that moment, swept away by the forces of history. It was all God’s will, she thought. She would trust in Him.

  When they had walked a good distance away, well past the drawbridge and completely out of sight and
earshot, the two guardsmen mounted the horses behind the girls, reached around their bodies to take the reins, and began to ride. The four of them rushed into the night. The world sped up all around them. Adrenaline pumping through their veins.

  They rode through the forest, surrounded by thick green pines that seemed as tall as the sky, like ancient monsters. It was so different from her last flight, Margrethe thought. This time she was like an arrow. She knew exactly where she was going and what for. This sense of purpose. Desire. Power over her own destiny.

  AS THEY’D PLANNED IT, the journey would last seven days. They rode all through the first night and the next day and night, stopping only for short breaks in the woods, and, almost thirty-six hours after stealing down to the castle lawn, they were met on the road by a lord and his servant, who ushered them into a large country estate.

  Dawn was just breaking over the countryside as they rode up to the great stone manor.

  Margrethe and Edele were taken through the kitchen, their heads covered, and put up in secret in a simple room away from the bustle of the great hall. The guards were housed nearby. The four travelers were given wine and hot meals—all by the same trustworthy servant—before being left alone to sleep through the day. No one else at the estate suspected who these guests were; most of the servants and knights and aristocratic guests didn’t even realize the newcomers were there. The few servants who did notice the extra food leaving the kitchen, the extra linens sent to the laundry, or the extra horses being stabled and groomed, just assumed that the lord’s errant son had returned from his recent bout of carousing, most likely with some hapless maidens in tow.

  The next night Margrethe and her companions stole out again, their horses rested and fed and watered. She and Edele looked at each other, smiling with excitement, as the horses rushed forward, so fast that the world blurred around them, into a new life. It was a great adventure. No matter how exhausting, or how dangerous. And it did not hurt that Edele found her rider handsome enough to flirt with as she spent hours on end pressed against him.

  They kept doing this—rushing through villages and forests until they came to an agreed-upon destination where servants or guardsmen appeared like specters, out of thin air, to lead them into a large manor, where a lord or lady waited, honored to help the princess and the Northern peace faction on such a worthy mission.

  Margrethe was exhausted. No matter how well she slept, her body ached from the long nights spent on horseback, and more and more she just leaned against her guard as the horse raced forward, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to think about Christopher and what it would be like to see him again, how he would react when he saw her. She imagined that he would recognize her instantly, despite her great change in dress, and that his warrior face would soften as he walked toward her and took her in his arms. And as she slipped deeper into fantasy, her own skin took on the mermaid’s sheen, her body was soaked through, and she was leaning over him, pressing her lips to his.

  Always she stopped herself, berating herself for such thoughts, forcing herself to look back out at the world passing by her, the landscape slowly becoming more and more green as they approached the range of mountains that split her own kingdom from the Southern part of the land, that caught the cold somehow, trapping it in the North.

  On the fourth night they began to ascend the mountains, and, as the sun was setting the next evening, they arrived at the estate of another noble family, nestled among fir trees high on a peak. Here a great feast awaited them. The lord himself rode out to meet them, dressed in rich velvet. He hopped off his steed and bowed deeply to them, kissing both women’s hands.

  “I am Lord Adeler, and I am humbly at your service,” he said. “We cannot tell you, Your Highness, how grateful we are to you, for this. What you are doing for all of us.”

  “I hope to help bring a great change,” Margrethe said, fumbling a bit for words, taken aback by the strength of his emotion.

  “We have long wished for peace,” he said. “I lived most of my childhood in the South. My mother used to tell stories about her childhood, what our kingdom was like years ago, before I was born. I have spent much of my life working to get that world back.”

  “It is my great wish, too,” she said.

  “It is an honor to have you in my home, and if you are not too tired, we have a feast waiting for you, which I hope will nourish you as you near the end of your long journey. I have guaranteed your safety to Gregor, my oldest friend, and you will come to no harm in my household.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “That sounds wonderful.”

  Lord Adeler mounted his steed and led them to a small stone castle in the mountains, up a path lined by flourishing green trees and grass. Inside, a suite of rooms and warm baths were waiting for them, and Margrethe sank down into the water, letting the exhaustion slip out of her. After, she and Edele were dressed in gowns loaned to them by the lord’s wife, then led to a small room full of flickering candlelight.

  The lord stood and introduced Margrethe and Edele to his wife and two sons, both handsome, tall with light hair and strong faces. Margrethe could sense Edele shifting beside her and had to stop herself from smiling. Of course Edele would leap at the chance to flirt and find love, even in the midst of a dangerous journey like this one.

  “I thought we would have a special dinner here rather than with my court, for safety reasons, as much as I love and trust my little estate. It is also so nice to get to know new friends in such intimate surroundings.”

  “Thank you,” Margrethe said. “It is an honor to be your guest.”

  They all sat at the table, and the servants brought out platters of fish and pheasant, bowls of rice cooked with blueberries, everything heavily spiced.

  “It looks delicious,” Margrethe said.

  “We are all praying for you, Your Highness, and for the happiness and security of your upcoming marriage.”

  “The prince is a splendid man,” the eldest son, Rainer, added. “We schooled together, when I was a boy.”

  “Ah!” she said. “And what was he like?”

  “Much as I understand he is like now. Quick, fearless.”

  “Beloved by women, even then, was he not?” the lady of the house asked, interrupting him.

  “And that, yes.” Rainer smiled.

  “Well, we can all only hope that the princess is as swayed by his charms as your childhood friends were,” Edele said, flirting with him. He responded with a sweet smile.

  “We are right at the border,” the lord explained. “More Southern than Northern. It has caused us much difficulty at times.”

  “You were friends with my father once, weren’t you?” Margrethe asked.

  “Yes. When I was a young man, I spent a lot of time at his court. I was at his wedding, at your mother’s wedding.”

  Margrethe breathed in. “You were?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “What was it like?” she asked. For a moment, she was like a small child about to open a gift, her dark eyes glowing, a small smile playing at her lips. “My mother, what was she like, then?”

  “Your mother was astonishing. She was a bright woman, full of energy. She seemed to get along with everyone, no matter how base or dull. And that laugh she had! It could change the temperature of a room completely.”

  “No one is allowed to speak about her at the castle,” she said. “It is like she was never there.”

  “Ah, well, it must have been hard for your father. He was very, very much in love with your mother, you know.”

  “I hope to be in love like that one day,” Edele said.

  Margrethe poked her under the table.

  “I wish that for us all,” Rainer said, smiling at Edele and raising his glass to the table. “And for you, Your Highness. I would be honored to attend your wedding to my old friend, Prince Christopher, and I hope your love will be as legendary as that of your mother and father.”

  “Thank you,” Margrethe said, raising her glass, trying
to hide the blush that was creeping into her cheeks.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Mermaid

  THE SUN STREAMED INTO THE ROOM, WARMING LENIA’S skin. The waves crashing against the shore, lapping at the boats in dock, the faint sounds of voices, seagulls, footsteps in the corridor outside—all the sounds of the upper world rattled in her ears. She turned onto her side. Her mouth ached, and her body felt even more raw than it had before.

  Painfully, she sat up, the sheets twisting around her. It was as if knives were being pressed into her calves and thighs.

  Specks of dust floated through the air, illuminated by the sun. She observed them for a moment, fascinated, and then ran her hand through the air, watching them disperse.

  She could still feel his mouth on her.

  As she stood up, throwing off the sheets, she gasped in pain. It was as if the soles of her feet were open wounds. The day before they had begun to numb, and she had almost become accustomed to the pain, but now she had to acclimate to it all over again.

  She took one step, and then two. Slowly, she walked over to the window, then peered at herself in the heavy glass next to it. To her surprise, she did not look at all as if she were in discomfort. She stepped away from the glass, then toward it again. Her body moved gracefully, perfectly, just as Sybil had said it would, despite the pain that shot through her with every step.

  She opened her mouth, red and warm. The stump of her tongue was pink and flowerlike. The sight of it made her mouth ache even more than it did already, though she had barely thought of it until now, most likely because the pain in her legs was so much more vivid. Her eyes dropped to her breasts, the patch of hair between her legs, the dried blood on her thighs, her long, curving legs and arching feet.