by Liz Braswell
“And what about you? A princess with actual duties?”
“Father, I’ve ruled, and while I might be good at it, I don’t like it. I want to do what I’ve always wanted to do.” She pointed out at the dark ocean. “Explore. Meet new people. Learn new languages. Discover new things and the artists who make them. I want to find out what happened to the Hyperboreans. I want to reengage trade with the Tsangalu. I want to know if there’s anyone else out there like Ursula….”
Triton—and Sebastian, and Flounder—shuddered.
“Maybe they’re not all like her,” she said quickly. “Father, the world of the mer has been getting smaller and smaller, consumed with ourselves and our own arts, thoughts, and philosophies for far too long. Humans have conquered most of the Dry World—we need to unite the World Under the Sea, for survival if nothing else.”
Triton frowned, but not skeptically. He scratched his left eyebrow.
“But this is the job for an ambassador or an emissary, not a princess….”
“Who better? I have royal blood. I have interacted with humans. No one, no one of the mer is more qualified.”
“But…you’re my youngest daughter….”
“Dad, let her go,” Attina said softly. “She doesn’t want to be here. If you want to keep her at all, this is the only way. Otherwise she will just leave. And not come back.”
“It’s true,” Flounder agreed. “She’s got itchy fins.”
“As much as I’m probably gonna regret what I’m about to say,” the eldest princess continued hesitantly, “what about this? I’m no Ariel, but if you need help now and then, and it needs to be from a royal princess, I’ll swim up to the task.”
“Really?” Ariel asked in surprise. “You mean it?”
Her father looked doubtful. “But—”
“Let Ariel start by being our official envoy to the idiot humans whom her idiot prince rules. That will give her time with him, and we can see how good her negotiating skills are—like keeping them out of our hair and the Great Tides that feed us.”
Triton and Ariel both looked at her in surprise.
“Well, that’s…” Triton said, scratching his beard. “That’s…”
“A really good idea,” Ariel finished, smiling. “An excellent compromise.”
“Yeah, well, I’m second in line to rule, you know, so…” Attina said, stretching. “I’m sort of a natural at this.” She winked at Flounder.
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” Triton growled.
“It’s okay,” Attina said, kissing him on the cheek. “We have. Say, do I get a necklace or day-crown or something for my new job? I need to look the part.”
Triton looked at Sebastian helplessly. “I thought I was getting my kingdom back. I don’t even have my daughters back listening to me.”
“Ah, women. What can you do?” Sebastian said in displeasure.
“Listen to them,” Flounder suggested. “Since they both outrank you.”
Ariel laughed, and so did Attina.
And eventually even Triton joined in with a chuckle.
A full moon gleamed over the bay. Eric leapt onto the banister of the long stairs that led to the beach and slid down it, balanced on his stocking feet with arms outstretched. Ariel, standing in the shallows, laughed softly.
“Aren’t you getting a little old for that sort of thing?”
“I feel like a kid again,” he said, scooping her up in his arms. He spun her around and she laughed again, drips of water flying off her toes like diamonds in the moonlight. Then he put her down and they kissed. Properly. For a long time. For the first time Ariel understood the human expression “making one’s toes curl.”
“So what’s the story?” Eric asked when they finally parted.
Ariel shrugged and sighed. “I’m to negotiate a path for your ships to take when entering the open sea, past the coastal shelf—to not disturb us. Also to work out a schedule so humans avoid the beaches at turtle and plover nesting times. After this week is up, I then get to make an exploratory trip to the territory held by the Neraide. We never lost complete contact with them, but we haven’t exchanged diplomatic pleasantries in a long time, or officially visited.”
“Neraide…Greek? Are they like the ancient Greeks?”
“No, they are mer,” she said with a smile.
“Of course.” Eric bowed. “I should absolutely know better than to say things like that now. Forgive me!”
“Forgiven. And you? What have you been doing?”
“I’m trying to set things in order, too, so I can eventually make a trip…to the islands of Arawakania in the lands to the west. My father would prefer I go to Ranahatta, but I want to see what tropical waters are like. I hear there are reefs you can just walk out to, as colorful as a rainbow.”
“You’ll have to tell me all about it,” Ariel said with a touch of jealousy.
“I thought you would come along and lead our ship into safe harbors,” he said, tweaking her nose.
“Maybe. Mer move slower than human ships, and mer kings slowest of all.”
“So is there a chance? That we could ever be together? Forever?” Eric asked, trying not to sound childish. Trying not to sound desperate.
It was adorable.
“There is always a chance,” Ariel said, kissing him on the cheek. “And each day, it looks better and better.”
“I’d leave Tirulia to my sister in a heartbeat. Say the word and I’m mer forever.”
“I’m…exploring that option as well. But what would your people think?”
“What, are you kidding me? They’re already positively moony over the story of you and me, and the defeat of Ursula….The only thing better than having an official mermaid ambassador would be having her marry their besotted Mad Prince and the two living happily ever after. Especially if I gave ’em an opera or two about it.”
“I can see it now. Sebastian and Eric: A Tale of Two Worlds,” Ariel said, putting her hand up as if reading a sign.
“I work alone.”
“Yes, so does Sebastian. Ah well, another great idea tossed into the Great Tide…”
“Hey, check this out,” Eric said, pulling up his sleeve and holding out his arm.
The name Ariel was written out—in mer runes! It circled his arm like the sort of band a warrior would wear, and glistened with oil he had rubbed into it.
“Eric! What did you do?”
“What? Don’t you like it?”
“I love it, but…”
“Until we have wedding rings, I thought it was a nice permanent commitment. Argent did it! Sebastian helped me with the letters.”
“It…must have hurt.”
“You have no idea. That’s how much I love you,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.
They held hands and walked down the beach under the moon, talking about nothing important. Not mermaids, not armies, not sea witches, not fathers, not kingdoms, not distant lands to the west. What they did talk about, no one could much hear; there was a breeze, and the lapping of waves, and the cry of a strangely alert gull. And when they kissed in the light of the moon again, no one saw, and no one cared—except for themselves.
And they were very, very happy.
The moon was just waning. Ariel had gone.
Vareet looked out her window grumpily. She knew the mermaid would be back soon, but it was still hard. Eric was nice—and awfully cute—but she didn’t feel as close to him. Her tutor was endlessly patient. Carlotta was doting and Grimsby spoiled her rotten…but none of them was Ariel.
At least the seagulls were a constant presence. Scuttle had been moved to a comfy nook in a belfry near her, extremely happy with his glittering medal, luxurious retirement, and doting great-grandgull. Jona was made official bird emissary and messenger, keeping lines open between the mer and Eric until Ariel returned. And when Jona wasn’t needed, she tended to stick around Vareet. They couldn’t talk, but they did communicate in their own way. The gull even rode on her should
er sometimes like a falcon.
Still, Vareet felt a little lonely.
She sighed and climbed into bed, wondering how she would ever get to sleep with all these thoughts in her head.
Then she noticed something on her pillow.
A beautiful, swirled brown and white shell like the one Ursula used to wear, but larger. A whelk, not a nautilus. Vareet picked it up in wonder, turning it over in her hands, admiring its gleam in the moonlight. On a whim she put it to her ear.
Her eyes widened.
In the depths of the shell, she could hear what must have been the echo of distant waves…and also the song of a mermaid.
After the sort of introverted childhood you would expect from a writer, Liz Braswell earned a degree in Egyptology at Brown University and then promptly spent the next ten years producing video games. Finally, she caved in to fate and wrote Snow and Rx under the name Tracy Lynn, followed by the Nine Lives of Chloe King series under her real name, because by then the assassins hunting her were all dead. Liz is also the author of A Whole New World: A Twisted Tale; Once Upon a Dream: A Twisted Tale; and As Old as Time: A Twisted Tale. She lives in Brooklyn with a husband, two children, a cat, a part-time dog, three fish, and five coffee trees she insists will start producing beans any day. You can email her at [email protected] or tweet @LizBraswell.
