A Pirate's Dream

by Marie Hall

“What?” She frowned, giving a nervous titter. “I don’t. I think he’s...”

  Tipping her head, her grandmother didn’t look in the slightest bit fooled. “You can say many things about our king, but being homely is not one of them.”

  “How come there are no other males in the city?” Nimue switched subjects. She really didn’t want to dwell on that pompous jerk anymore, but she was curious. “Is he that petty that—”

  “Tut. Petty.” Maiven chuckled. “No, Nimue, petty he is not. I do not know why the king acts with you as he does, but he is a good man. The fact is that apart from royalty, no maiden may bear a male fry. It is why we are forced to seek mates in the above.”

  Nimue knew what “the above” meant, just as her father and mother had often referred to Seren as the under. These were two distinctive classes of peoples: those who lived above the sea and those who lived below.

  “What happened to yours?”

  Blinking, she went back to harvesting. “He died. A long time ago. And I’m much too old to seek another.”

  Glancing at her nubile great-mother, she shook her head. “You don’t look old.”

  “No, maybe not in body, but in spirit, I am. When Talia died, it was like I did, too. I never wanted to replace her, never wanted to erase her memory with another.”

  Not sure what to say, feeling as though she might have been delving into places she shouldn’t, Nimue moved over to a new strand and began plucking.

  Just then, a loud racket sounded, and a bucket came rolling through the patch, tossing snails every which way.

  “Bloody... argh, Ariana!” Maiven bellowed. “What have you done now, girl?”

  The once-pristine garden grounds were now littered with baby snails. Kneeling, Nimue began scooping them up and placing them haphazardly on whatever strand of kelp she found.

  A mermaid came gliding through the back doorway of Maiven’s coral hutch, hanging her head. She was a lovely creature, as they all were, but there was something intensely alluring about Ariana.

  Her hair was the white of purest snow. Her eyes were a cut-emerald color. Her tail was a deep-stained crimson, and it was patterned unlike anything Nimue had seen since she’d been here.

  Several of the scales had arranged themselves in such a way that it appeared as though white roses creeping with green vines had wrapped themselves around her tail. Nimue released a puff of awe as the creature stopped a few yards from Maiven, occasionally casting nervous, shifty glances in Nimue’s direction.

  “I’m... I’m so sorry, teacher. I did not... did not...” Tears suddenly sprang to her eyes as she began wringing her hands. “It was just so hot and my strength not—”

  Sighing, but not with exasperation, Maiven moved toward the mermaid and gave her elbow a quick squeeze. “It is quite all right, Ari, I forgot you’d be stopping by today. Give me a moment to clean my hands and we’ll start our lessons.”

  “Okay,” she said sweetly, glancing down at the tip of her flicking tail, but still looking curiously back and forth between it and Nimue.

  Maiven undid her apron, set it aside, and then hooked a finger in Nimue’s direction.

  “Wait here, Ari, touch nothing,” she said one final time and then headed toward her hutch.

  Nimue knew her great-mother wanted her to follow, but she was as curious of Ariana as the mermaid clearly was of her.

  “Hi,” she said it slowly.

  Ari laughed, the sound joyful and almost, childlike, that it threw Nimue to see it. Ariana was clearly a mermaid of fertile years. She had a slim waist and full bouncing breasts; her face was equally as mature, her lips full and ripe. Her eyes slanted and her cheekbones razor sharp. She was a striking woman.

  Realizing the mermaid wasn’t going to respond, Nimue followed her grandmother.

  She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “What is—” But before she even got to finish her thought, her grandmother answered.

  “She is touched, dear.”

  “Oh,” she said shocked, and then, “oh. I’m sorry.”

  “No.” Holding up her palm, her grandmother began pulling out books from a bookshelf sitting beside her living room conch chair. “She is incredibly sweet, but I didn’t want there to be any confusion on your part as to why she sometimes acts as she does.”

  “What?” She glanced over her shoulder once again only to note the mermaid treading the same spot she’d been when Maiven had given her the order not to move. “Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

  It wasn’t often that she came across someone like Ariana, Nimue wanted to make sure that she was sensitive to the mermaid’s needs, but she was also intensely curious.

  “A boating accident. The maid swam too close. We told her to move away, but she got too close to its hull and...” she squeezed her eyes shut, trembling as though reliving the memory, “she very nearly died that day. When she awoke she came back to us this way. No one here really knows how to deal with her, though we try our best.”

  “What do you teach her?”

  Maiven pointed to twig shaped spirals of coral and some pencils with colored tips on them. “Nothing really. She calls them her lessons, but she draws. And she’s quite good at them actually.”

  Opening the journals, she swam aside so that Nimue could look at the drawings. Quite good was an understatement.

  Ariana might not be able to process the world as the rest of them did, but she captured the essence of life within the pages. There were images of grottos with mermaids languishing upon rocks.

  Rocks that formed into a skull. She smiled when she saw that one. “That’s one of my father’s holdings.”

  “Aye.” Maiven nodded, tracing her fingers over drawings as Nimue continued to turn the pages.

  She was impressed by the skill it took to make such fine, detailed sketches.

  Squealing with delight at the sight of Smee’s blue eyes staring back at her, Nimue said, “She’s seen Smee.”

  “Yes. She’s got quite the fascination with pirates and leggers in general. Though we tell her it’s no longer safe for her in the above, she rarely listens. But Ariana is as slippery as an eel to catch, and has no fear of using her voice should the need arise.”

  “Her voice?”

  “She’s a siren.”

  “I thought you were all siren’s?”

  Mother had always spoken of the siren song she heard anytime she and father entered the under.

  Laughing, Maiven tucked a red curl behind her ear. “Not the way Ariana is. No one is the way Ariana is. But unfortunately, I think we should call it a day. I’ve stew to make and Ariana will be here for a while. Unless, of course, you wish to stay?”

  Her great-mother’s eyes looked hopeful, but Nimue was starting to feel a little tired. “No, thank you. I think I’ll return to my dungeon for now. But I’ll be by again at some point this week.”

  “Tut.” Maiven chuckled, gave her a quick hug, then pointed at a bowl of glittering sea snails. “Take those to the cook at the palace, and do try to stop calling your room a dungeon. It’s the first step to accepting one’s fate.”

  “Yes, great-mother,” she said it dutifully, if not with a bit of an eye roll, which her grandmother generously ignored.

  After setting her apron down on the razor clam kitchen shelf, she grabbed the bowl of snails, and with one final glance back at the woman who was naught more than a girl, she returned to the palace.

  Chapter 5

  Nimue had barely stepped foot inside when she was violently shoulder bumped. She fell to her knees, dropping the bowl of snails so that they scattered like tiny projectiles across the marble kitchen floor.

  Cook, a broad mermaid of a woman with plump fish hips and a stout middle section, harrumphed. “Stygia, you saw that girl coming in here. Did you really need to shove her as you did? Look at my kitchen. What a mess!”

  Though the snails had felt soft and delicate coming off the stems, they were now sliming the kitchen floors as they tried to hide within shadow. Mai
ven had warned her that frightened snails made messes, but the green glop that reminded Nimue of snot, was more than just a little mess.

  Curling her nose, she shot Stygia a venomous glare. “You did that on purpose.”

  The green-haired barracuda smiled an evil smile. “No, I didn’t. You were just in my way, legger.”

  Normally, Nimue didn’t let the insults get to her. But she’d been in a bad mood that morning to begin with. Jumping to her feet, she hooked her leg behind Stygia’s tail and her arm through the crook of her elbow. Then, using a move that Smee had taught her, she flipped the fish onto her back, so that Nimue was the one standing above her.

  “Do not,” she stressed, “do that again.”

  Hissing, churning water with the agitated swish of her iridescent pink tail, Stygia righted herself and glared at Cook as though she were also to blame. Without saying a word, she slammed the swinging doors open, exiting with chin held high.

  “Oh, boy.” Cook chortled as she plucked a squirming snail out from under the butcher’s block. “You have angered the beast, legger. You have angered the beast.”

  But the way she said the word, Nimue didn’t quite hate it so much. Lips twitching from a runoff of adrenaline and a touch of pride, she brushed at the snail stains coating her skirt. “She deserved it.”

  “Aye.” Cook’s brown eyes gleamed. “But will she see it that way?” She winked then waved a hand. “Go, dear. I’ve got this. Just clean yourself up before the king sees you this way. He’s been quite a bear fish these past few days.”

  Turning on her heel, Nimue opened the door and muttered beneath her breath, “You’re telling me.”

  *

  She’d bathed and changed her clothes, which was a miracle of ingenuity. Down here, there was no needs for skirts. But Nimue was a legger, with all that it implied. Mermaids could show off their tails without impunity, but for any of them to catch a glimpse of her legs was apparently as scandalous as if she’d shown off the womanly bits with them.

  At first, when the servant had shown her the closet full of clothes, Nimue hadn’t exactly been sure what to expect. Maybe seashell bras and kelp skirts, but her clothes were made of annelid silk from a type of glowworm that thrived in dark places. The beauty of the silk was not just in its tensile strength, but also in its shimmering quality. Any type of light that it caught caused the silk to flicker different colors like crystal catching flame.

  The mermaids had many different shades of dyed silk, but Nimue found herself repeatedly reaching for anything red as the color contrasted nicely against the paleness of her skin and darkness of her hair.

  She had a few minutes before she would be called in for dinner. Nimue had tried all she could to keep herself locked inside her room. But after reading the same page in a book she’d been trying to get through for the past three nights, she’d realized she needed to get out.

  But she really had no friends to get out and go see. So here she sat, in the palace gardens, watching the sun set behind a watery horizon.

  Mother had told her the first time she’d come that she’d been shocked by the fact that sun was visible in Seren, but Nimue was convinced that it wasn’t the sun at all, more so one of its many illusions. She could stare directly at the golden-yellow orb without flinching in pain.

  Parrotfish dipped and dived within the cerulean waters, chasing horsefly and fruit fish around. Kelp waved long fingers, swaying to and fro in the gentle waves.

  So pretty.

  She sighed. A little nudge traced across her skull, then Jian popped through a strand of hair and blinked little beady eyes back at her, neighing softly.

  In such a short amount of time, she was coming to know him. She felt almost as though she could hear his thoughts. That was not possible since she wasn’t a fish, but she knew he was worried for her.

  Rubbing a finger across his ear fin, she gave him a wimpy smile. “I’m okay, Jian. Just a little lonely, is all.”

  He cuddled against her palm, vibrating with a contented purr.

  “I wonder how they’re doing. My parents. I wonder if they miss me.”

  She watched the rest of the sunset through watery eyes.

  *

  Sircco watched her from the hidden vantage point of a tower window. For weeks, he’d ignored her presence. Not that he wasn’t constantly aware of her. He was. Her scent teased him, that mix of land and sea bells, flowers that grew only in Seren.

  How was it possible that a legger could smell so foreign and yet so... familiar?

  She didn’t move, simply stared at the setting sun, but she wouldn’t have needed to turn for him to know she was horribly unhappy.

  “You could talk to her, you know.”

  His sister’s intrusion caused him to jerk back, moving away from the window as he nervously flicked at his arms, as though brushing away dirt that did not exist.

  “Brother, she is unhappy. No matter what I do. No matter how often she goes to visit her great-mother, she is not happy. Maybe you could help her.” Sirenade’s amber eyes looked concerned.

  “She is my prisoner, Siren—”

  “Argh!” She flicked at his tail with hers, hard enough to make him stumble back. “Will you get over that already? She is far from a prisoner, but even if she were, she’s been a model one and deserves better than you’ve given her these past two weeks.”

  “What do you want from me? There is nothing I can do.”

  “Yes, you can. Speak with her. Take her to the mystical gardens within the moors. I would, but I’ve so much work to do here. She is bored, lonely, and in desperate need of a friend.”

  “I’m as busy as you. Council meetings, visiting the tenants—”

  “All matters I can handle on my own.” She laid a restraining hand on his.

  “I thought you just said you were busy.”

  She gave him a snarly look, her eyes going frosty for a moment. For whatever reason, his sister had taken a shine to the legger. It wasn’t common for her to take someone under her wing the way she seemed to be doing with Nimue. Perhaps it would be worth his time to figure out why.

  Switching tactics, he shook his head. “I don’t know why you think I could do something for her you cannot. I am a male.”

  Giving him a cross-eyed stare that seemed to imply “exactly.” She huffed, “Sircco, for such an intelligent merman, you can be quite dense sometimes.”

  He growled and then his nostrils flared.

  She rubbed the bridge of her nose quickly. “You’re as surly as a hedgehog fish. My dear brother, has it never occurred to you that perhaps that would be exactly why you could reach her?”

  “Because I’m a male?” He screwed his face up, confused by her logic.

  “She is of breeding age, brother.”

  “I will not be breeding her.” He took two cautious flicks back, heart hammering violently in his chest when he thought of it.

  He’d seen a painting once that depicted the seduction of a mermaid by a legger. The way they spread their legs—he swallowed hard—it was unseemly.

  And yet when he thought of Nimue spreading hers, disgust was not the first noun that came to mind.

  Sirenade laughed. “Nor am I asking you to. Befriend her, Sircco. It costs you nothing. You hate her because of who she is, not what she is.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Get cranky with me all you’d like, you big dragon of a fish, but you know it’s true. She is Hook’s daughter, and though there is peace between us, you’ve never quite managed to forgive him for taking Talia from you.”

  “I am over Talia.”

  And it was true—he was. But perhaps his sister was right. Though he no longer felt the depressive love he’d had for her, his pride had been wounded.

  He was a king, and she’d chosen a legger instead.

  “Good.” She flicked at his chest. “That is very good. Now please, for the sake of my sanity, try to make peace between you two. She will be living with us for the next five and a half
months, and I’d rather not feel like I need to swim on eggshells around you two.”

  Huffing, he cast a quick glance out the window. The sun had set, and Nimue was gone.

  Clenching his molars, he made to head toward the banquet hall, but Sirenade said in a loud stage whisper, “And for the Goddess’s sake, let Stygia know she should be spending her nights elsewhere from now on. I’ve reached my tolerance for simpering.”

  Not turning, he gave a brisk nod and went to get settled for the evening’s repast.

  He was just about to enter the dining hall when he smelled sea bells. Hearing his sister’s words echo in his ears, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned around.

  She stood like a frightened deer fish before him. Her blue eyes wide, she clutched onto her skirt. Blood had risen high on her cheeks, giving her dewy skin an almost luminescent quality.

  “Nimue.” He tasted her name.

  Every time he said it, he always tasted it. Pulse going mad in his throat, he executed an awkward bow then held out his hand.

  A soft frown kissed her brows. Such delicate, fine boned brows, she had.

  “Sircco,” she said, startled.

  He hated to see the uneasy wariness in her eyes.

  “I, um...” She blinked, as though unsure what to say.

  Reaching his capacity for words, he grunted. “Take my arm. I’ll escort you to your seat.”

  And when she took it, he refused to analyze what the tremble through his flesh could mean.

  Chapter 6

  She was all too aware of the merman swimming regally beside her as he led her around the long table to her seat. Or so she’d thought. Instead of placing her several chairs down from him, he sat her to his left.

  She felt as though she might vomit. Confused and not just a little dizzy, she took a seat. She thought she may have mumbled a thank you, but her memory was a little sketchy on that part.

  She didn’t get a chance to ask him what he was doing because soon after, the hall filled with merfolk who were ready to eat. And it might have been pleasant had it not been for the fact that Stygia sat directly across from her and was glaring openly.