by Erin Johnson
I grinned. "And which did you fall into?"
He gave me a flat look. "The group that didn't give a flying fish."
I chuckled and looked over my shoulder to see Hank's reaction, but he stared off into space with a slight frown on his face. I turned back to Iggy. "Hank has something to tell us."
Iggy put down his log and leaned forward, his expression eager. "Tell me we get to go somewhere."
I shrugged.
Iggy narrowed his eyes. "I need out of this oven. I'm going stir-crazy."
I frowned. "Sorry. Hey, why don't we go for a walk tonight?"
He sighed. "Yes. Please."
"You got it, buddy."
He narrowed his eyes. "I'm not some common household pet you put on a leash and take for a stroll."
I held up my hands. "If I did that you'd burn the leash and start a forest fire."
He sniffed. "Exactly. I'm a powerful royal bakery fire."
I nodded. "Who looks super cute when I walk with him in his big lantern and he eats his favorite wittle branches."
Iggy glared at me, and I giggled and grabbed Hank's arm. "Come on. Let's get those scones."
He nodded, distracted. I peeked around the bakery, looking for the treat. One of Hank's brothers’ wives loved lavender scones, so we always made them for her afternoon tea.
Annie stood on tiptoe, peering into an oven set against the wall. She wore a headband that kept her gray hair out of her face, and held her apron up to use as an oven mitt as she pulled a bread pan out and examined the contents. Yann stood at a table near her, the burly man twisting and smacking a length of dough against the table—his chosen method for kneading.
I spotted Sam in the walk-in fireplace. Using a rag, he lifted the copper teakettle from its hook above the fire and slid over to Amelia, the royal event coordinator. He poured steaming water into an ivory teacup, and she nodded her thanks. Amelia popped into the kitchen a few times a week to chat.
Then I spotted Maple, K'ree, and Wiley standing around the other long table with a tray of baked scones beside them. Jackpot. I pulled Hank over to them.
Wiley shrugged, a boyish grin on his face. "I'm just saying, it makes you look badass."
K'ree's dark skin flushed a berry color. She held up her left hand. Intricate designs in a dark brown ink covered her wrist to her fingertips, like a lace glove. "They're meant to be symbolic."
I reached around Maple and snagged a buttery yellow scone. She smiled at me and I smiled back. Then I turned to K'ree. "Well, I think it’s beautiful."
She flushed a deeper pink. I broke the scone and handed half back to Hank, who took it absentmindedly.
"Wool had one just like it," Maple mused. Wiley shot her a side-eyed look.
K'ree grinned and shook her head. "Almost just like it. His was on his right hand." She wiggled the fingers of her other hand, plain and unadorned except for the sticky bits of dough stuck here and there. "It’s a traditional Fire Kingdom tattoo. We paint it and then burn it into our skin with magic."
I winced.
"Burn is maybe not the right word. It's a magical fire, not hot—it doesn't hurt. Each design is unique to the person. Women get theirs on their left hands, men on their right. When I marry, I'll get a tattoo on my right hand, merging my husband's design with my own. And if I have children, their designs will be added up my arms to my elbows."
K'ree cocked a dark, thick brow and glanced at Maple. "So if you and Wool, for instance, got married, you'd get two new tattoos—one on each hand."
Maple's blue eyes widened. I grinned at the pink blush spreading across her cheeks, until I noticed Wiley's dark look and the furious way he was now kneading his dough. Interesting…. It became a whole lot less entertaining when K'ree spoke again. "Or for instance, when Prince Harry marries our Princess Shaday, they'll receive matching tattoos as well, I imagine?"
My face fell and I didn't have the heart to check Hank's reaction. I bit off a giant hunk of scone and chewed unhappily. Maple inched her hand over and squeezed my fingers. I gave her a grateful squeeze back.
Hank cleared his throat. "Hey, guys. I have an announcement."
Everyone paused and looked to Hank. Though he stood tall and held a calm expression, he rubbed one wrist anxiously.
"Well, get on with it," Annie teased, giving the prince a wink. She'd worked in the bakery a long time, and had known Hank since he started sneaking in there as a boy.
He nodded and cleared his throat again. "It's a, uh—a great honor, really. The Mermaid Kingdom has requested that my family—" He paused and looked down, searching for words. He looked back up. "That my family share our wonderful, talented bakers with them in honor of the Mermaid Queen Aerwyna's engagement to the Pirate King, Captain Charles Walker."
Silence followed. Meanwhile, I felt like dancing. I clapped my hands together. "The mermaid queen is marrying the pirate king? Am I in a fairy tale?" I looked to Maple for confirmation, but she just stared numbly ahead.
Annie planted one hand on her round hip and gestured with the other at the table in front of her. "We're quite busy as is. How are we supposed to bake for that family on top of yours?"
Hank licked his lips. "Members of the baking guild will be covering for you during your absence."
Annie paled. "You mean—we have to go down there?" She pointed at the floor.
Yann shook his head and clasped his big hands together, pleading. "Eet ees a terrible place."
I clicked my tongue. "Come on, guys. What's this all about? We get to go down to the Mermaid Kingdom—this is amazing!" I pretended to fluff my hair. "We get to hang out with ethereal beauties with long hair and mesmerizing voices, and flit around between coral reefs and seaweed forests." I grinned from ear to ear.
Maple let out a heavy sigh. Annie scoffed. "Maybe some of them are ethereal beauties, dear, but this current royal court is about as far from that fantasy you've got as they come. What Prince Harry's really saying is, we've got to cater to Queen ‘Winnie the Finnie,’ as she's known, and her childish demands, and her fiancé, a pirate who didn't get the nickname ‘Good Time Chuck’ for nothing." She narrowed her eyes at Hank.
Hank's shoulders sunk in. "Annie, I'm sorry. I tried to talk them out of it, but—"
Amelia interrupted. "It's all politics." She took a sip of tea. "Our kingdom has to maintain good relations with the Mermaid Kingdom, and you lot need to do your part."
Sam rubbed his hands together. "I must sssay—I'm rather intrigued." He blinked his big, blue, milky eyes. "I've never been in the sssea before."
The only other one who seemed enthusiastic was Wiley. He grinned. "Ahhh yeahhh. This is going to be thrashin'."
I frowned. Wiley being into something was not a good sign.
"This is going to be terrible," K'ree moaned.
Amelia rolled her gray eyes. "Please. It's a few days underwater."
Hank turned to her. "By the way, they want you to coordinate their engagement bash."
Amelia scoffed. "This lot'll be fine, but if you think I'm stepping one foot down there, you're out of your mind. Hell—"
Hank folded his arms. "They're paying a chest of treasure."
Amelia looked up. "—o, that's a lot of money. When do they need me?"
A shout from Wiley sent me jumping. I turned, heart pounding, to see him clutching his wrist, blood running from a cut somewhere on his hand.
Maple lurched over and held his wrist. "What happened?"
He glanced down. Cat, the little monster, clung to his leg. It smiled its monkey grin, rows of sharp, pointy white teeth gleaming.
Maple gave Cat a mock frown. "Oh now." She clicked her tongue at her new pet, who'd been under Wiley's care for the last week or so. "Bad Cat." She turned to Wiley, concern written all over her pretty face. "Did he bite you again?"
He shook his head, his eyes locked on hers. "No. Just jumped out of nowhere and startled me." He nodded toward a knife on the table. "Made me cut myself."
Cat chittered and his b
lack bat wings fluttered. He skittered off toward one of the alcoves that held rows of spices. Hank and I exchanged uneasy glances. I’d thought, being raised in the nonmagical world that I might be the only one perplexed by the little creature that seemed a mix of cat, monkey, and bat. But I'd come to find that no one had any idea what it was. We'd have to find someone to watch the little guy if we were all going below the sea.
"Come on." Maple pulled a kitchen towel from her apron and wrapped it around Wiley's hand. "Let's go to the infirmary."
Wiley let her steer him toward the door. Maple paused and turned to the rest of us. "Please carry on until we get back. Prince Harry and I will discuss this trip to the Mermaid Kingdom."
Annie opened her mouth to protest, but Maple gently held up a hand. That was my girl.
"I don't want to go any more than the rest of you… well, except for Imogen and Sam, who have no idea what we're in for, and Wiley, who wants to go for all the wrong reasons."
Wiley frowned. "Hey."
"But we're the royal bakers, after all, and we'll do our duty with poise and efficiency." She gave everyone a tight nod. "And I'm sure we'll get some kind of generous bonus as a reward?" She smiled sweetly at Hank. He cleared his throat, but smiled.
Way to go, Maple! Leading the troops and getting us a bonus. I gave her a double thumbs-up before she turned and escorted Wiley out of the bakery… still holding his hand in both of hers.
4
The Rusted Wreck
I hesitated before the tall black archway of gleaming stone. Maple turned, halfway through.
"Imogen?"
I cleared my throat and plastered on a smile. "Yeah. Just uh—"
"Petrified?" Iggy chimed in from the lantern in my hand. I frowned at him.
Maple came back to my side. The others—Wiley, Sam, Francis, and Rhonda, waited on the other side, chatting and laughing. K'ree, Yann, and Annie had begged off for the night, saying they needed time to make arrangements for our trip tomorrow… and to generally be responsible adults.
"What's wrong?" She took my elbow.
"It's just—that arch. Hank said it wouldn't be pleasant."
Maple squeezed my arm. "I'll go through with you."
I leaned into her. "Thanks, friend." I sighed. "Also… I feel safe—well, reasonably safe— on the palace grounds, but out there…." My friends chatted in a pool of light cast by a hovering golden orb, dark trees thrashing in the wind behind them. "Horace could be anywhere, just waiting to grab me."
Maple threw her arms around me in a tight hug. "I hate that guy." She took me by the shoulders and stared straight at me till I raised my eyes to her face. "I'm not letting anything bad happen to you. I promise. Besides, we've got Francis, Prince Harry's own bodyguard." She gave my shoulders another squeeze.
She was right. I couldn't hide in the palace grounds forever—though it'd worked for the last week. I hadn't left since Horace had nearly kidnapped me. And now he could be anybody, anywhere on Bijou Mer.
But Hank had posted these gates at checkpoints all around the city. And when he'd overheard us talking about going to the pub after work, he'd insisted I take Francis along for protection. Rhonda stood on his feet, both of them hovering a few inches above the ground. I shoved down the memory of what I'd seen earlier in the library. Way, way down.
I gave Maple my hand, and we walked together toward the ominous black archway. I took a deep breath just outside it—then stepped in.
My stomach lurched as I suddenly couldn't tell up from down. I couldn't hear, couldn't see—the whole world went black.
I gasped in a breath, and the whole world lurched back into focus. I dropped to my knees just past the gate on the other side. I struggled for air. Maple crouched down next to me, and the two gate guards crowded around me.
"Imogen? Isss ssshe all right?"
I recognized Sam's voice and found it comforting.
"Miss? Can you hear me?"
I nodded and looked slowly up at the guard who'd spoken. The other one lifted me under one arm, and between him and Maple, they got me to my feet again. I swayed as they, and my friends, peered at me.
“Are you all right?" Maple's eyes welled with tears.
"We haven't even started drinking yet," Wiley teased, but he eyed me with concern. He lifted Iggy's lantern for me.
I let out a shaky breath. "Yeah—I'm all right."
Maple kept her arm around my shoulders, though I felt steadier now. She looked at me, a little crease between her brows. "Did it hurt?"
I shook my head, which sent the world slightly off-kilter. "No. It was just… disorienting."
"Well, let's all stay close together tonight, shall we? Safety in numbers." Francis hovered close by, floating along with Rhonda clinging to him. "Though that didn't help all those villagers with torches who came for me five hundred years ago."
Wait, what?
Rhonda gave a devilish grin. "I'll stay close to you."
Sam slid up beside me. "It'sss disssorienting when I change, too." He shook his head and stared at the ground. "I'm sssorry you're feeling unwell."
"Sam." I nudged his shoulder with mine. "I'm all right. I'm sorry you have a hard time every time you change to a snake. Do you do it often?"
He smiled slightly, his chin disappearing into his neck. "More now that I'm not ssso afraid of being dissscovered."
Sam had had to hide the fact that he was a shifter. Though still discriminated against by the magic community in general (I didn't understand it), when Maple had given him a job in the bakery, it'd allowed him a lot more freedom to be himself. I knew he enjoyed slithering off to the royal forest on nice moonlit nights.
We wound our way down the cobblestone streets of Bijou Mer, crossing low foot bridges over canals glowing with the lights of the mermaids swimming through them. We passed shops, restaurants, and bars, all alight and bustling with the magic crowd that took over the city each night when the tide rose and the humans were spelled back to the mainland.
A strong gust of wind rose up and knocked me into Maple, who nearly flew into one of the canals. Wiley caught her and righted her, and after we both recovered from the surprise, she and I burst into giggles.
Wiley grew petulant. "Well, I'm glad someone found that funny. Maple, you nearly died."
It made us laugh harder.
I scoffed at Wiley. "When did you become such a worrywart?"
By the time we'd made it to the middle level of the island, where the main street grew tightly packed with revelers, I'd nearly forgotten my worry about Horace. Until I came face-to-face with a life-sized wanted poster of him. It took my breath away to stare into those half-lidded eyes and full smirking lips. Maple noticed and steered me away from it.
"Come on, almost there."
We passed an outlook that opened to a vista of the sea beyond. Dark clouds blotted out the stars, and the sea churned in the rough Sansea winds that racked the coast late every summer. I squinted at some golden lights that bobbed on the sea.
"It's a pirate ship." Maple gulped.
A little thrill rippled through me. "Are they—dangerous?"
Looming black masts and billowing white sails stood out against the horizon. The huge ship looked over a hundred feet tall, its black flag rippling in the wind.
"They are a rough-and-tumble sort."
Great. We continued on, past brightly lit clean and trim shops. A line formed down the main street, where revelers waited to pass through another black gate. Luckily, we avoided it by ducking down a dark alleyway, littered with broken bottles and empty crates. The Rusted Wreck lay before us, though you'd be hard pressed to notice it.
The wooden sign that bore its name rocked in the wind, the lettering so faded it was nearly impossible to read. Colorful graffiti covered the brick wall beside the doorway, and the front windows were so dusty and cluttered with signs and boards that they showed no signs of any life inside. This was our place.
Wiley pushed open the heavy black door, holding it for the
rest of us. He bowed and swept an arm across his waist when Maple passed through. She grinned and blushed. Mm-hmm.
The Wreck bustled with life and noise, much more than the last couple times I'd come. I rose on tiptoe to gaze over the crowd of tightly packed bodies. Running along the right side of the room, someone sat on every stool at the long bar made of uneven driftwood.
I grinned when I spotted Charlie, the ferryman, in his usual spot. Hopefully he hadn't had to fight anyone for it. He hugged a frosted mug of golden liquid, in deep conversation with the man beside him. The guy had to be a pirate, with a bandanna around his bald head, a gold hoop earring in one ear, and a cutlass at his hip. We were drinking with pirates tonight, it seemed.
Francis floated a few inches higher, scanning the room, then settled back lower. He pointed a pale, bony finger toward the back corner. "There's a high table empty with a couple of stools."
"You guys grab it, I'll get the first round." Wiley shouldered his way to the bar, Maple following after him with her eyes.
I nudged her. "Hey now, eyes on the prize before someone else snags it."
We squeezed our way through the crowd, past men who smelled as if they hadn't bathed in months—because they probably hadn't—and dodged flying elbows and sloshing beer. I shuddered when I lifted my foot to take a step and found that my sandal remained glued to the sticky floor. Gross.
After returning my foot to my shoe and ripping it off the dirty floor, Maple and I eased our way onto the tall stools at the un-bussed table. Sam pointed to the men's room, excusing himself, and I plunked Iggy's lantern onto the center of the table. I rocked side to side, the legs of my chair uneven.
Maple sang in a quiet voice.
"Table be bussed,
Stool be level,
We'll have no fuss,
It's time to revel."
The empty mugs and crumpled napkins disappeared, and my chair stopped wobbling.
"Hey, I was actually kind of enjoying that."
