Her head dips into my lap, her shoulders heave in wracking shakes, and she moans. No tears, of course. I know that now. I place my hands gently on the back of her head, combing my fingers through her hair. I take a deep breath and let my voice settle, calm.
“We’re spending all day on a boat with Nik. Just the four of us. And then there’s the ball tonight. Balls are the most romantic venue in all the world—true love is practically a decoration.”
Annemette tosses her head from side to side in my lap, but she doesn’t say anything.
“If after the last dance, the magic still hasn’t been satisfied, we’ll do it our own way.” I wrap my arms around her shoulders and lay my head upon hers. “I won’t let you go.”
Annemette’s nerves are as obvious as her freckles as we appear in the sunlight.
She’s nervous about the time remaining.
About Nik’s feelings.
And, almost more than any of that, she’s nervous about being on the water. I know now that when she transformed, she had to let the sea go in every way possible, and it won’t take her back, not even to indulge her to enjoy a day gliding on its back.
I grab her hand and give it a squeeze as we spot the boys by Iker’s schooner. Iker and Nik each have a tulip in hand—pink for Annemette, red for me.
“Ladies,” Iker says, “you’re so beautiful today, the mermaids will be fuming with jealousy.”
I do a little curtsy, and Annemette bobs with me. “Convenient, then, that we have two dashing princes to keep us safe from their clutches.”
Iker cocks a brow and draws me in for a kiss on the cheek. “You’re meant for my clutches, not theirs.” His arms squeeze my waist in a bear hug.
Blushing lightly at the ears, Nik rolls his eyes. “Is this how it’s going to be all day with you two?”
Iker meets my eye. “Probably.”
Another roll of Nik’s eyes, and then he tugs at Annemette’s arm. “Let’s go, before it gets so crowded we can’t leave the dock.” I lift my brows in encouragement at Annemette, mouthing, “You’ll be fine.” She turns a nervous smile toward Nik.
Iker and Nik hop onto the schooner first and hold out their hands to us—no gangplank available. I step into the boat next and immediately regret not waiting to help Annemette. Her coloring has not improved, and now she stands alone on the dock, both hands gripping her tulip with white knuckles.
“Are you all right?” Nik asks, stepping forward.
Annemette nods, but there’s no credibility in it.
“She’s a tad nervous—boating accident when she was a kid.”
The kindness in Nik’s face makes me melt. “I know what that’s like. I haven’t told you about my recent incident, have I? It was scary, but the best way to beat the fear is to get back on the water. And you’re with an expert sailor today, Mette,” Nik says, slapping Iker on the back. “The best there is. You’re safe here. I promise.”
Annemette nods but doesn’t move to come aboard.
“Here, jump to me,” says Nik. “I’ll catch you.”
Annemette takes a deep breath. After several seconds, she leaps into his arms.
I stumble back out of the way just in time to give them more room. Nik’s excellent balance keeps them upright, and Mette lands as gently as possible on the little schooner’s stern, a grateful smile at her lips as she beams up at him, scooped against Nik’s chest. Exactly where she needs to be.
“Summer wine, Mette? It calms the nerves,” Iker says, sitting down on the bench next to me. Annemette shakes her head at his offer.
I meet Nik’s eyes. “Perhaps some water?” Nik nods for Iker to retrieve it from the chest he filled with chipped ice.
We’d made it to the mouth of the harbor with ease and were now pleasantly floating. Well, pleasant for everyone except Annemette, who can barely look over the rail.
Iker returns and slips the canteen to Nik, who uncaps it for Annemette.
She takes a greedy pull. “Better?” Nik asks, and she gives another unconvincing nod.
Iker grabs a large jug and fills a tin cup with the contents—from the smell of it, hvidtøl.
“Starting early, Iker?” A glint rises in Nik’s eye, and he takes a swish of Annemette’s water.
“Starting right on time. And who do you think you are, second-guessing the captain on his own boat?”
“Someone who is often in charge and remains sober for his duties.”
“This is a festival, and there has been entirely too little drinking for my taste. I am eighteen and a prince. I can enjoy myself on my own ship as I please.”
“Iker, may I have some water?” I ask, because they can’t continue this way. Not that I’m sure I can stop them, but I’ll settle for distracting them as a means to turn this around. It’s supposed to be a romantic jaunt.
Iker plops down on the bench and takes a long swig from his tin cup.
“If your sober prince wants to share, of course you may.”
I eye the flask—most likely Iker’s personal water jug and no more. It sits lightly in Nik’s hand, a third gone with two measly glugs.
“Not to second-guess the captain, but is that all you brought to drink?”
Iker shakes his head into the cup. “Like I said, there’s summer wine,” he says before raising the jug in his hand. “And hvidtøl too. I’m not an idiot—I know it’s hot.”
I roll my eyes. “What about to eat?”
Iker stands and flips open another chest of ice, plunging his free hand into the depths. “Ah, yes, cheese and fruit and not a single thing more. What is this? A garden party? There’s not even a herring.”
“Mette’s allergic,” Nik says. He was in charge of packing the food.
“Well, I’m not. And allergy, my arse. She’s just being particular to watch you fall all over yourself to accommodate her.”
Annemette winces and heat grows in Nik’s cheeks, a true argument brewing in his veins. While I’m pleased to see fire from Nik regarding Annemette, it does nobody any good if the boys toss each other overboard.
I place my hand on Iker’s forearm. The bickering is too much and almost as bad as the lack of water and food. If it goes on, this day will truly not go as planned. He turns to me and I give him a calming smile.
“We have the sun and blue sky and each other. We have enough.”
Iker draws me in to the flat of his chest—the scent there more than salt and limes, a sour note from the hvidtøl ruining the balance. Nik glances down.
“Evie and her quick mouth. Always right, even when she is very wrong,” Iker says.
“I am always right.” I smack him on the arm but let him hold me against his chest, his heartbeat slowing as the fight drains from him.
“Don’t trip on that pride, Evelyn. It’ll hurt even more when you take a tumble,” he jokes.
It takes several hours, but Annemette is eventually at ease enough to unplaster herself from Nik and, dare I say, enjoy our time at sea. She stays close to him, to be sure, but she becomes comfortable enough to share some berries and cheese with me, and conversation with us all.
Iker and I sit with our backs against the hull, facing Annemette and Nik at the mainmast. Nik has drifted off to sleep, having had a little too much wine, comfortable with Annemette at his shoulder. Iker has yet to slow on the hvidtøl, and it hasn’t made him sleepy as much as it’s made him more of a cat, enjoying a sunbeam with his claws out.
“Are you feeling better, Friherrinde Mette?” Iker asks.
Annemette responds with a regal nod.
“Good. Over your fears, then? A changed woman now that your prince is asleep?”
I elbow Iker hard. “Enough,” I say. “I don’t know why you’re being like this. So . . . impolite.”
“Forgive me, Evelyn. It isn’t polite, it’s true—I am a prince, and though I don’t prefer it, I follow social norms most of the time. But my family is another matter.” His eyes flash, ice blue and hot. “When it comes to them, I am never polite. It i
s worthless to be polite when something so important is on the line.”
Annemette swallows, and I’m fairly certain all three of us steal a glance at sleeping Nik.
I should speak up and stave off Iker, but I can’t. Nik is just as important to me as he is to Iker, and an ill-timed defense of Annemette would come off as wrongheaded. It also might put more strain on this day—enough to carry over to our whaling expedition. With a coward’s heart, I shut my eyes and let him attack.
“So, yes. I want to know everything about you, Friherrinde Mette. Starting with how you came here—and why you arrived ahead of all the other invitees. And just as much as I want to know those things, I want to know even more how you knew to befriend Evie to get access to Nik.”
I wince. Because he’s right. But I’m too afraid to open my eyes and see Annemette’s reaction. Both to his drunken questioning and to my cowardly silence.
“Thank you for your concern, Cousin.” My eyes fly open, and Nik is awake and straightening himself from sleep. Annemette huddles against him while Iker’s teeth are bared in something of a smile—but the intent is much fiercer. “But interrogating our guest isn’t the way to go about it.”
“She hasn’t been properly vetted.”
“Who are you, my mother? When did we stop taking people at their word?”
“You never have that option.”
Iker shoots to his feet, and Nik is right after him. They lean into each other, jaws tense and features reddening.
“You are the sole heir to the jewel of the Øresund Kingdoms, the richest fishing village in the strait,” Iker spits. “You can’t just go throwing your future at a stranger.”
“How is that worse than what you do? Throwing your pole in every corner of the ocean, tossing back any girl you catch?”
“If I’m so horrible, why in the name of all the gods would you let me be sweet on someone you love?”
My heart flutters at the word love, though there really isn’t a better word for our friendship. Nik stares at Iker for a long time before he answers. “I thought Evie would be enough to settle you down. And, considering you’re planning on taking her whaling in the morning, I think she’s succeeded.”
My eyes shoot to Annemette’s. There’s surprise in them—as much as I imagine in mine at Nik knowing our plans. There’s something else there too, but I can’t look long because the boys start up again, hands balled at their sides, color in their cheeks, faces an inch apart.
“This isn’t about Evie. This is about the fact that you are so blinded by that thing in your chest that you can’t see this girl for what she is—a complete and total stranger with no proof that she is who she says.” Iker takes Nik’s shoulders with a firm grip. “Her story is thin and her credentials are nonexistent—that makes her motives suspect. I have met many people in my travels and—”
“The fact that you are well-traveled does not make me naïve.” Nik shrugs off Iker and takes a step back, out of easy reach. “And I’d rather be ruled by the thing in my chest than the thing in my trousers—”
A peal of thunder rips through the sky, loud enough to kill the words and anger on Nik’s lips. All four of us tense and wrench around in the direction of the sound, to the northeast. A cloud so big and black it appears like night with no end is heavy on the horizon. Just like on Nik’s birthday, this storm has come out of nowhere—so sudden it’s strange.
But it’s a storm, and the three of us know exactly what to do.
Without another word, the boys and I are in motion, working around Annemette, who cowers against the mainmast pole as the boat begins to rock at a heavy clip.
There are far too many ships in the harbor, and we’re just beyond it, in the strait and nearly out to sea—much farther out than we were the night of the party, and on a much smaller boat.
The three of us get the ship turned, the food and drink put away, the long oars at the ready. Finally, there is nothing more we can do other than hunker down and row forward—just what every other boat in the strait is doing at the same moment. Well, save for the king’s steamer, which is puffing merrily toward the dock, cutting a path through slower-moving vessels.
Ships clog the harbor, and where progress is slow on the water, it’s quick in the sky. The storm beats at our backs, wind blowing in the right general direction, but also serving as a warning call. The stronger the wind, the closer the storm.
“Evie!” Nik calls between heavy breaths as he and Iker row for it. “Help Mette.”
I leave my spot at the wheel and slog to the mainmast post, where Annemette is huddled, hanging on for dear life. I sink down beside her and press my bodice against her back, shielding her from the storm as much as I can.
The rain begins to pound down, and I feel her shudder beneath me.
“I just want to go home.”
“I know, Anna—Mette. Mette, I know.”
She doesn’t react to my stumble. She just repeats herself. Over and over.
As lightning flashes, something hard and biting thwacks me on the back of the head. I shake it off and turn to where the object has fallen to the ground.
Hail.
My heart drops and I raise my head. White chunks are flying through the air, plunging into the harbor in a deluge, rocks falling as fast and knitted together as fat raindrops.
I scan the horizon. We’re at least four hundred yards out, and more than two dozen boats stand in our way of safety. We’re small enough to cut around the bigger ships, but even with the boys rowing at full strength, I’m not convinced we’re agile enough to not get crushed in the process.
I glance to the left. To the cove—the natural shelter. It’s completely open, no ships there.
“The cove! Can we land in the cove?”
Behind me, Iker’s voice booms over the rain, pinging hail, and another slice of thunder. “As good a chance as any. Cousin?”
Nik lifts his head, not once wincing as two hailstones smack into his flop of wet hair. “I’m not sure of the obstructions. But it’s our best chance.”
Taking that as a yes, I squeeze Annemette before running for the wheel to help steer as Iker adjusts the mainsail to change course.
We get going in the right direction, and Iker turns to me. “Evie, stay. We need you to hold course against the wind.”
I take one glance at Annemette. One glance at Nik. Iker’s right.
We cut around the queen’s three-sail, skip around two other schooners, a sloop, and the tiniest of one-man rowboats, and zip in a line to the cove. The blind part of the beach comes into view first, then the rock wall, and finally, Picnic Rock.
We enter the cove and I take a deep sigh of relief, my arms shaking while holding our line, red welts from the hail rising on my exposed skin.
Then Annemette begins to scream.
“Turn! Turn! Turn!”
I follow her eyes, but I don’t see a thing. There’s nothing but rough water ahead, our boat still too far out for the footstep islands to be a hazard. “Sandbar!”
Just as the word slips from her mouth, we shudder to a halt—run aground with water on all sides.
I meet her eyes and know exactly how she knew the sandbar—submerged and hidden from sight—would be there.
She’s the only one of us to ever swim so far out into the cove.
I wait for the questions to begin. But they don’t come. Instead, Iker is silent as he bends over the bow to survey the situation—both how stuck we are and what the damage might be. I truly hope there’s no damage. “Time to swim for it, crew.”
Nik leans over and confirms. “Yes.”
“No!” Mette shouts, still clinging to the mast pole. “I can’t.”
But Nik isn’t accepting that. “It’s a hundred yards. I will swim you in. You’ll be fine.”
Iker drops anchor so that his boat won’t float away when the storm ends and the sandbar releases it. He comes alongside me and brushes a few half-melted hailstones from my hair.
“Leap together?” H
e takes my hand and we step to the edge of the bow. The water is alive, waves at a rough clip, revealing the octopus that has haunted the cove since the beginning of summer, plus schools of large fish and several dolphins. The cove is practically overflowing with more animals than should ever inhabit it—unusual animals. My mind flashes to my spell, my daily call for abundance.
No, it can’t be. I didn’t do this. It’s the storm—pushing sea life out of place.
Before I can think any more, Iker is pulling on my hand to go, and we leap into the cool water.
The hail has stopped, and the thunder has rolled into the mountains ringing Havnestad. Tendrils of lightning still flare in the sky, and the rain remains steady, but the swim isn’t the worst I’ve ever had. Rocky and rough and exhausting, but I make it to shore just seconds behind Iker, pulling myself onto the nearest pile of sand with a great heaving breath. I roll over and fill my lungs again and again with salt air, sand caking the wet folds of my dress.
He helps me up until I’m in a seated position and have a view of the cove, where I watch Nik pull Annemette to safety. He holds her head above water, her body flat against his. My heart fills with love for him all over again, knowing that not long ago, I was the girl in his arms, being swum to shore in a terrible tide.
Nik’s stroke doesn’t miss a beat, and they are on land soon enough. His breath is thick with effort, hers with fear. In his eyes, I’m sure I see a spark of love—something I hope tonight’s ball will truly ignite—and Annemette will be home at last.
THREE AND A HALF YEARS BEFORE
The newest mermaid simply became another royal sister, her memory in such a state that she believed she had always been there. Everyone said so. Even if she had the nagging feeling that her life felt like one big conversation entered years too late.
She was just a little mermaid, swimming in the collective shadow of her five older sisters—Lida, Clara, Aida, Olena, and Galia. Blond and fine-boned all, full of cheer and manners. Together, the six girls were the pride of their grandmother, the Queen Mother Ragnhildr, or as she preferred, Oma Ragn.
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