by Liz Braswell
Sebastian clicked his claws together in the crab equivalent of fists and ground his mandibles, trying to keep from saying anything. Flounder put a steadying fin on his back.
“Let it go,” he whispered, pulling the little crab away.
As the two left together, Sebastian might have been heard to mutter something about her being exactly like her father….
Ariel gloomily looked over the piles of paperwork that were her “reward” after the meeting.
She sighed and tapped on her desk with a pen—a sharp-tipped whelk—and rested her chin on her hand.
It was no use. She couldn’t concentrate. All she could think about was her father…and losing her temper at Sebastian.
She would have to make it up to the little crab somehow. Maybe she would commission him to write and prepare a celebratory chorus for something. Maybe that would assuage his wounded ego.
She thought about her duet with Eric. It was almost uncanny how the boy she had fallen in love with once had managed to enrapture her again as his current older self. He was sadder, captive to a strange fate, but still possessed the heart of the old prince and his love for music. After all this, even if they were confined to their own worlds forever, she would love the chance to sing with him once last time.
…nope. Actually, she didn’t want that. She was going to be honest; that’s what queens did.
She wanted to kiss him.
She wanted to embrace him. She wanted to try spending time with him somewhere—his world or hers, it didn’t matter. One more duet was meaningless. She wanted to own his heart.
That hadn’t changed.
“Working hard?”
Ariel jumped. Attina had swum up in her usual sneaky, silent way.
“I just…There’s so much here. Got lost for a second.”
“Is life down here getting boring?”
“Attina, just—all right,” Ariel said, throwing her pen down. It bounced slowly in the water, raising up a little bit of settled coral dust on the edge of her perfect marble desk before eventually skittering off the side and over to the seafloor. The two mermaids watched it in surprise.
“A little defensive, aren’t we?”
“You’re picking at me. Please just admit it.”
“Settle down, little sister. I know that you’re upset about not getting our father back—again.” But before Ariel could open her mouth to yell at her, Attina continued, louder. “And I know you are taking it much harder than the rest of us. Please.”
She added, more softly:
“I know how hard you’re trying. But you may, at some point, have to admit to yourself that it might not be enough. That it’s too hard a task even for the great Ariel, Queen of the Sea and Walker on Land.”
Ariel opened her mouth to say something, but couldn’t find the right words, overcome with what her sister had said. It was so understanding, so deep, so…
“Also, you are completely bored under the sea. It’s totally obvious.”
Ariel snapped her mouth shut. Attina was looking at knickknacks on her desk, specifically not at her, but there was a twinkle in her eye.
The Queen of the Sea managed a little smile.
“Well…to be honest, it is boring. But I have a thousand other, more important things on my mind! Why has Ursula continued to let our father live despite my repeated rescue attempts, and yet refused to use him as a bargaining chip? It’s unsettling, and it’s probably for very bad reasons. Where is he right now? What is she doing to him?
“I’m worried about the fate of two kingdoms and one old butler. I’m worried about time passing…and meanwhile, I have to go over some bizarre ancient contract specifying which member of the lineage of Kravi gets to perform which Rite of Proserpine in the Equinocturnal Celebrations. Like it matters?”
Attina looked over her shoulder at the paper. “Give the lead to Sumurasa. Her brother would just flub it up.”
“I mean, I know, but he was born first. There’s no way around that.”
“Well…find something else for him to do that sounds good but doesn’t have any real responsibilities. A nice title he can brag about.”
Ariel raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“That’s not a bad idea. Maybe you should start coming to the council meetings, too….”
“Nahh, not really my thing. Boring, like you said.” But Attina again avoided her gaze, drifting over to a golden bowl of bright sea leaves. She examined them closely: exotic oranges, reds and yellows, a single slender purple…and finally just plucked out the biggest one and began to munch on it. “Bah, not like an apple. How’s your little, uh, human toy doing up there?”
“Hopefully he’s looking for Father. Since I failed to find him.”
“You still love him?”
“Irrelevant to the matters at hand,” Ariel said primly.
“You are so strange,” Attina whispered with something like awe.
“I’m not—”
“You are. Don’t you get that? You always have been. As a girl you never liked anything the rest of us liked. We looked for shells, you looked for ship garbage. We swooned over mermen, you lusted after statues of creepy two-legged Dry Worlders. You had this beautiful voice that everyone envied—and you gave it away. You don’t like being queen, but you do it willingly and honestly as some sort of penance for what happened to our father. You’ve never tried to abdicate, though it’s pretty obvious you hate it.
“You don’t want to be here. You never wanted to be here.”
Ariel raised an eyebrow at her thoughtfully. “Mostly true. Nice use of the word ‘abdicate,’ by the way.”
“What I’m trying to say is…your stupid desires and wishes got us into this terrible mess and got our father taken away, and I’m still mad at you for that. But—if you do get our father back—you should…you know…go after that dumb mortal.”
The Queen of the Sea looked at her sister in shock.
“We’ll miss you if you go, of course. But I’d understand. Well, I mean, I don’t understand,” she added, twitching her tail. “Humans are ugly and dumb and evil and short-lived. But all that aside, there’s something a little Old God about you, Ariel….There’s something epic about loving a mortal and wanting to leave your eternal, paradisiacal world. Something the rest of us will never understand, but people write sagas about. Even your failure and sadness are the stuff of poetry.”
“Um. Thanks?”
Attina sighed. “You know, in your own way, you were once a super girly, carefree, bubbly, beautiful little girl. I still don’t understand how you got to be so strange underneath it all.”
Ariel was about to answer that very older-sister, not-really-a-compliment remark when Threll appeared.
“My Queen, Princess-Doyenne Farishal and her consort are waiting to speak to you about their children’s official Coming of Age?”
“Oh, joy,” Ariel said grimly. “Excuse me, sister; duty calls.”
“Of course it does,” Attina said with a sigh, still chewing on a leaf. “Hey! If you do see Eric again, have him grab us some more apples, will you?”
“But when will my ships be done and ready to launch?”
It was getting harder and harder to pretend that the summer cold that had taken her voice was still hanging on, especially since she didn’t act like the rest of the ridiculous, simpering ladies of the court did when they had ague or anxieties or chills or whatever else they complained of. Ursula continued to stomp up and down the castle corridors, and she ate like a champion.
But right then she didn’t even care about her voice; she slammed her fists down on the table and bared her teeth at the broad-chested older man standing before her.
The fleet admiral regarded her with icy black eyes.
“We have employed every qualified shipwright in the kingdom, My Princess—and quite a few unskilled manual laborers. The shipyards are at capacity. If we had scaled this up properly, we would have built a second shipyard beforehand. You’re asking for a bat
tle-ready fleet to be amassed in almost no time, out of thin air. Give us more space and another month and you will have one of the finest armadas on the continent.”
“In a week, if I wanted to, I could…set certain things in motion that would allow me to no longer require a month, or your pesky ships, or even you,” Ursula growled. “A month is too late. For your own health, if nothing else, get those ships on the sea and loaded with explosives, now.”
Anyone else would have looked uncomfortable at the order, but rarely did any emotion pass over the dark skin stretched tightly over the bones in the admiral’s face.
“I don’t care if you’re actually a witch,” he finally said. “I don’t care if you believe the moon gives you special powers or if you can control the seas. But neither spiritualism nor cetaceamancy nor threats to my person will make these ships ready any faster, unless you have the power to conjure a hundred more men and another dock. If all goes well we will launch and begin our assault on the Verdant Coast by the end of the summer.”
“Who said anything about attacking the coast?” Ursula demanded. “Forget about the stupid forts and towns for now. You have new orders, drawn out here. And you will get those ships done in two weeks, because I am your princess and that is your job.”
“Then it is not my job any longer,” the admiral said crisply, undoing the medal at his chest. He neatly—not viciously—threw it on her desk, where it landed with a thwap. Then he took off his blue tricorn hat and put it under his arm. “Good luck, Princess.”
He spun on his heel and marched off, every inch the military man.
Bother.
She had been really looking forward to wiping out the mer as soon as possible. It was like the best treat ever. It would still happen, of course—just later than she wanted. But she hated waiting around for things. Was it time to try the circuex?
No…things weren’t that bad. Yet. Just mildly annoying.
But ah, there is that other idea I had for getting to Ariel. It’s not as grand, but would keep me amused for a while, and give those pesky townsfolk something to think about besides their own worthless opinions on my military expeditions.
Eric came striding into the room a moment later. “Why is Admiral Tarbish in such a huff? I’ve never seen him like that!”
“He quit,” Vanessa said mildly, picking up the medal and examining it. The admiral’s move was unexpected, but not necessarily unwelcome. It was a definite opportunity, and surprisingly, conveniently done.
“QUIT?” Eric exploded. “Our fleet admiral just quit?”
“Yes, I’m afraid he lacks the confidence to amass our fleet of ships in a timely fashion. Never mind, I have the perfect replacement. Lord Savho very much likes the sea and has been looking for some way of…contributing…to our current military endeavors.”
“Savho has never captained a ship, much less led an invasion! Or an exploration! Or a trading mission! I doubt he’s ever been beyond the bay!” Eric swore, taking his cap off and throwing it on the ground in the most unprincely display of humors Ursula had seen yet. It was almost amusing.
“But he does have a lot of money, and he would be extremely loyal,” Vanessa said with a shrug. “I’m sure the first mate or whatever can bring him up to speed.”
Eric felt his anger collapse under exhaustion and the weight of it all. How did you get rid of a woman who, with no magic powers to speak of, managed to manipulate and twist the whole world around her finger?
Or tentacle, really.
“Listen to me,” he said wearily. “I don’t like you. I don’t love you. But I’m married to you, and you are, currently, the princess of Tirulia. And you are tearing Tirulia apart. I’m not going to let that happen. For now we are still Prince Eric and Princess Vanessa, and you have to stop communicating with my generals and admirals without me. Starting now.”
“Careful, Prince Eric,” she said, trying to sound calm—but a quaver crept into her voice. “What might have been yours at one time is now shared by us. Should anything happen to you—”
“Should anything happen to me?” Eric laughed dismissively. “I’m not Grimsby. I’m hearty as a horse and everyone loves me. There are many who do not love you. Including my parents, who are king and queen—or had you forgotten that? You’ve been lucky so far: they don’t like to get involved in the territories their children control. They believe we should be able to rule independently. But if something ‘unusual’ happened to me, you would be out in less than a day, possibly tarred and feathered, and my sister Divinia would take the castle. She never liked you anyway.”
Vanessa turned pale.
Interesting, Eric thought. Had she not considered the possibilities before?
…or no, she just hadn’t thought Eric would think of the possibility. She was counting on his still being hazy from her spell—and perhaps not that clever to begin with. The princess was a haughty egotist who thought that everyone around her was dumber and less capable than she. Just all-around generally unpleasant, besides being a tentacled sea witch, Eric thought. How did any of the nobles and commoners she manipulated put up with it? Couldn’t they see through to her hateful, egomaniacal self?
Well, maybe humans were, as a race, just fallible….Everybody wanted something. Maybe it was as banal and “evil” as gold, but maybe it was as sweet and basic as true love. Maybe it was a baby you couldn’t have, or some way to keep your family from starving. Maybe you needed a friend. Maybe you just wanted to believe that all these things could be received as gifts, from the universe or God or the spirits.
And here is an evil, comely witch who promises it all. It would be so easy to overlook her shortcomings with your wish so close to being granted….Maybe only luck saved humans from having to deal with terrible creatures like Vanessa on a regular basis, who make people sign away their—oh! Wait a moment…!
“Vanessa, you cannot hurt me,” Eric said aloud, feeling a very Mad Prince smile forming on his lips. He loomed over her.
“You…signed…a contract.”
“I didn’t! I never!”
“A marriage contract.”
The shocked look on her face was infinitely pleasing.
“Princess Vanessa, you signed a legally binding document in which you promised to have and to hold, to support, to act as a partner in, our royal marriage.”
She looked sick. Actually sick. Green and yellow, mouth hanging open like a dog’s. She swallowed dryly once or twice. Her eyes glazed over as she stared at something that wasn’t there, between the floor and his face.
Maybe she was remembering their wedding day. It all happened very fast, thanks to her overwhelming need to win against Ariel. There was a thrown-together cake, a hastily fitted white dress, and a piece of parchment quickly scrawled out by the one counsel who stayed in the seaside palace of Tirulia.
(Who, it’s only fair to say, never thought he would have to do anything so crucial and important; his job was mostly a sinecure, reading through various real estate documents and decrees while lounging by the beach.)
He had pleaded with Eric not to marry at least until the king and queen had been informed and Vanessa’s family had been checked out. Under the spell, Eric had shaken his head and shoved the paper under the poor man’s pen.
Still, even under pressure, the lawyer had managed to turn out a fairly solid little marriage contract that referred to previous contracts with a lot of ibids, see-aboves, and refer-tos.
With a flourish and a smirk, Vanessa had deftly signed her name, adding what looked like a cute little octopus as a heraldic crest. The sun set, they kissed, and it was over for Ariel and her father.
Eric smiled indulgently. “As I understand you immortal creatures—and I do, because I’m a Mad Prince, and also because I’m married to one immortal creature and friends with another—contracts are even more important to you people than they are to us. You have signed with your soul.”
“Not legal. Not binding,” Vanessa wheezed, trying to catch her breath and stav
e off what looked like a panic attack. “Signed…as Vanessa…not me…”
“Well, the thing is, you kind of look exactly like Vanessa,” Eric said, cocking his head and pretending to look her over. “I think even someone as unschooled in legalese as I could probably make the case that as long as you look like Vanessa, live on land like Vanessa, and have no tentacles—like Vanessa—well, you are pretty much one hundred percent Vanessa. Although Vanessa, it’s true, might actually be a girl prone to fits of dementia who believes herself to be a half-octopus undersea witch. Oh, and by the way: there’s always a line in royal marriage contracts that deals with demented spouses, especially wives. I don’t think you’ll like what it spells out.”
Although she still wasn’t looking at him, Ursula’s eyes widened as she realized the implications of what he was saying.
“And speaking of wives, I should also add that there are other, nastier little clauses in typical royal contracts. Ancient stuff, like what happens if you fail to produce a male heir, most of which would be dismissible in court today. But even in our modern era of astronomy and steam engines, well, I’m afraid Tirulia is still a bit backward. Anything you own is technically mine, any inheritance you receive is mine, any property you manage is mine, any decision involving purchases or transference of goods, schooling of children, firing or hiring of domestic help…it’s all. Ultimately. Mine.”
He took a step closer with each final word and grinned down at her.
Vanessa’s eyes finally cleared; she looked at him with raw hate. Eric repulsed the look with a sunny smile.
“You see,” he added almost apologetically, “you immortal creatures have your powers, your promises, your wish fulfillments, and your contracts, it’s true.
“But we humans have lawyers.”
Vanessa’s face stretched into a rictus of a smile. She slowly straightened herself up and adjusted her dress.
“You’re not quite the dummy everyone thinks you are,” she finally said.
“Just you,” Eric pointed out. “Everyone else thinks I’m distracted and creative. Only you think I’m actually stupid.”
