The song ends, and each couple takes a bow before other couples swarm the floor, clapping them off as a new song starts up. The royals are swallowed by the crowd, almost everyone dancing. I sink farther into the background, finally settling into a chair pushed up against the wall. Almost immediately there’s a hand on my shoulder.
“I didn’t give the announcer that girl’s name.” Iker’s voice is low and hushed. Strained. “Please dance with me. Please, Evelyn.”
“I—”
He takes my hand in both of his. “Let me right this wrong. Please. That girl means nothing to me.”
The icy-blond girl is nowhere to be seen. She’s not hanging over his shoulder. She’s not anywhere. His dismissal after one song must have been more than disappointing.
I make the mistake of looking into his eyes. He’s spelled me as deeply as any magic I’ve ever known, using memories as much as the present. But I can’t dance with him. The embarrassment of rejection will double if the townsfolk see this as a pity dance. I shake my head.
“Please,” he begs. “I can’t bear to dance with any of these girls. I need you, Evie. Only you.”
I look around at everyone enjoying the evening. Dancing, spinning, laughing. Why shouldn’t I have that? Let them talk.
Finally, I nod, and he draws me up and sets one hand upon my waist. My hand fits neatly into his other palm. Like it’s meant to be there. The band plays at a sweeping clip, and we make our way onto the floor. I feel as if the entire world has blown away and only Iker and I stand alone, pressed together in an invisible, swirling tide.
“My aunt must have put that girl’s name on the scroll,” Iker whispers in my ear. “It has to be. Yours was the one that I requested.”
I want to believe him. I do. But I know his reputation. His habits. And somewhere deep in my gut I wonder if he and that girl had met before. He didn’t look my way when her name was called. Not like Nik. Iker only looked at her—like he knew her.
“Please, Evie—” Iker leans back so I can glimpse his face as we sweep through traffic on the dance floor. The strain in his voice has reached his eyes.
“Iker, it’s fine,” I say. Even though it’s not.
He twirls me past the king and dodges Malvina and Ruyven. We pass Nik and Annemette, and a prickle of magic shoots through my blood. I wonder if Annemette has used a spell to keep her feet from tripping up. For all her grace, even after an hour of practice, her legs weren’t doing what she wanted, her exhaustion too great.
Iker follow’s my eyes. “What?” he asks.
There’s not much I can say that he’ll agree with. “Nik and Annemette—they’re just so . . . this is just so . . .”
“Questionable?”
That was not the word I was thinking of. The specter of his anger on the ship rises. I haven’t seen him have a sip of hvidtøl tonight, but his true feelings are on display again in that single word. I smile, hoping it will soften the edge in his eye. “Romantic. That was the word I was going for. Romantic.”
Iker laughs, bold, in his way. The few heads that weren’t watching our drama unfold turn at the sound, and he makes a show of plucking a wayward curl off my face before leaning back in to whisper in my ear. “There is not a single iota of real romance in that relationship.” His voice is light, but I know he’s not kidding.
“Have you seen them?” I shoot back, my voice as cheery as possible, though there is irritation crawling across my heart. Why can’t he accept that Annemette could make Nik happy—that we could all be so incredibly happy?
“Evie, you are as brilliant as you are beautiful, strong and ship worthy; your wit is a marvel . . . but”—and my heart drops here, made worse by the fact that it feels as if his eyes are seeing through me—“all this time with Nik, and you still don’t understand that royal duty is duty to the people? We are walking symbols—ones who can dance and sing and perform. We do those things for our people, whether we want to or not—symbols do not have a choice.”
We whirl around in another circle, and he moves to the other side of my face, pressing his cheek into mine. “That romance you see is just passing. It cannot stay—the crown won’t allow it.”
And just like that, Iker confirms everything I’ve known all along. He may be angry at Annemette, but his same rules apply to me. It’s been sitting there right below the surface the whole time we’ve been together. And in each chance that I’ve had to walk away, I’ve willingly fooled myself into denial, his smiles or promises changing my mind.
But the cruelest thing is that he thinks I should just accept this, which is why the words fall off his tongue as if they’re a passing phrase. He can beg me to dance, to sail away with him, be at his beck and call, be his . . . plaything. And I’m supposed to accept it because he has responsibility, he has his duty? No.
I want to break free, but we’re spinning, one turn after another as his painful words swirl around me. His grip is so tight.
“Don’t you see how exceptionally dangerous she is, Evie?” Iker goes on.
“There’s nothing dangerous about love, Iker,” I say, the heated words sounding cold.
“Everything about love is dangerous. When I look at Annemette, I see a person I don’t know who has incredible interest in my cousin. Considering his status, his responsibilities, and his heart, that isn’t innocent. It’s predatory.”
Predatory? Maybe only in the plainest sense: Annemette has to win Nik’s love to stay. But considering she’s invested her life in this, considering my magic is insurance, considering she belongs here—I know deep down she is one of us—predatory is the wrong word.
Fate is the right one.
This is fate. It is fate for this to succeed. For our world to be righted again.
“And do you see me as a predator?” I finally ask. “I’m a girl without a title. But I wanted to be with you.”
At this he smiles, and for the first time I’m not sure if it’s for me or for the couples surrounding us, swirling across the marble. Iker as a symbol—Prince Charming. His role.
“Of course not, because I asked you. And I know that you, of all people, see how this works.”
He’s right. I always have. And under the light of the hundreds of candles decorating the chandeliers above, there are no more dark spaces to hide away this reality.
And just like I can never truly be with Iker, Nik can never truly be with Annemette. When he finds out she’s not really nobility, it’ll be over, and never mind if he ever finds out what she really is. If she was truly Anna, maybe. Maybe. But Anna is dead, and no spell can fix that. I don’t know what I was thinking, asking Annemette to believe that Nik would fight for her. That he’d ever be able to defy the queen. I guess I just wanted to believe it for her as much as I wanted to believe it for myself.
I look for them, twirling at the center of the room. Although she only needs true love’s kiss, and not a proposal of marriage, I worry that Nik may never let himself give one without the other.
I try to catch Annemette’s eye. We should go. I can do my spell and she can stay, and we can be friends. New love will eventually find each of us. But instead I catch Nik’s. For some reason, he breaks rhythm and leads Annemette our way, cutting through the couples, against the tune.
“Cousin, how is the dancing?” Iker greets them, as jolly as ever.
“Magnificent,” Nik answers. “Though I wondered if we might switch partners for a song.”
He doesn’t give a reason. Just meets my eyes again. The same weight hangs in their dark-brown depths as when my name wasn’t called.
My stomach blooms with warmth for the shortest of moments before a tiny sound from Annemette breaks the hold Nik has on me. I draw myself together and look to her. Color has rushed to her cheeks, her blushed lips hanging open—it’s clear the last thing in the world she wants is time with Iker.
“It’s so hopeless,” she says, a sob cutting into the air.
She gathers her skirts and shoulders past us, toward the balcony. To
ward privacy for tears that won’t come.
Without a second thought, I chase after her.
FOUR DAYS BEFORE
The little mermaid knew she wouldn’t be as lucky as her namesake queen. She knew the death of another was the only way to get her soul back.
The only way to stay.
Love wasn’t an option. Not for her. Not with the hate mounting each moment in her heart. Her hate had replicated itself until there was no room for another emotion. It had become her blood and breath and flesh and bone. It engulfed her, the pressure filling up without release. If she could cry, she knew that her tears would overflow the sea. Destroy all in its path. Wash away the world’s coasts in one fell swoop.
She wanted destruction—not only of the world above but of the world below.
Everyone involved in taking her from the life she’d loved deserved punishment. She would ruin them. All of them.
She had a plan for revenge—on Nik, on Evie, on even the sea royalty.
And the first step was right before her.
She’d stalked the coast of Havnestad in the days since her discovery, waiting for her chance. Her family thought she left the castle often because she was nervous about going up for the first time—that she needed to swim to clear her mind. She let them think that.
On the morning of her supposed birthday, her family saw her off with songs and merriment. Galia, the sister closest to her in age, offered to come with her for company’s sake. The little mermaid told her no, she would do it by herself. Galia didn’t push.
And then she was free.
The little mermaid went to Havnestad Harbor, searching for ships on the move. Easy bodies to snatch. It wasn’t a matter of taking a life. She knew she could do that. It was a matter of not taking too many.
She spied Evie on the dock that morning, magic in the girl’s wake, like perfume trailing a noble dressed in silk and lace.
The mermaid shook it off. She needed Evie to be alive for this to work.
But Evie’s father . . . She watched as the man prepared his ship, ready to sail. And she thought it might be the answer—something else to cause Evie pain—but then she spied a better option.
Iker.
Iker, who was kissing Evie in the open. Like she wasn’t a peasant. Like she had a chance.
Death finding him might be more painful for Evie than death finding her father—love was strange that way.
It was Iker who kept Nik from reaching her the day she drowned. He’d been her death.
And she would be his.
The little mermaid followed him aboard the same ship she’d stalked that night—the one with the little windows. His little ship was being repaired in the yard. It was simple to stay in the big ship’s wake, following through the Øresund Strait and up toward the Jutland, waiting for her chance.
The second day, it came.
The ship docked on the island of Kalø. There wasn’t much there but a ruined castle, she knew. Why would a fishing expedition stop here?
But soon she understood why.
A girl boarded, her chaperone and attendants following, carrying multiple trunks. The little mermaid’s memories were full of her own noble family and kin—she knew this was the daughter of a high house. She knew the trunks would be full of clothes, something she would need once she got to land, when she’d be too weak from her transformation to cast her own.
The elegant girl met Iker the same way Evie had left him—with a smile and a kiss. Just a sweet one on the cheek, but a kiss all the same. They knew each other. The playboy prince, living up to his reputation.
The elegant girl left him to go below, looking back as if she expected him to follow. He didn’t—and the mermaid wondered if Evie actually did have a chance. Instead, Iker directed his men to raise anchor.
The mermaid waited. Thought of using her powers to bring about yet another storm. She hoped Iker would get drunk. Teeter too close to the rail. Make it easy for her.
And just as she lost hope, a better idea struck.
Iker’s kiss did mean something. Even if he didn’t follow the girl belowdecks. It meant he’d be able to hurt Evie more alive than dead.
And Evie deserved pain.
Iker would pay later.
The little mermaid stole a trunk. She spared the ship’s captain, for the moment. Then she set out to find Evie’s father.
29
I FOLLOW ANNEMETTE OUT ONTO THE BALCONY AND pull her around to face me. She looks as though she’s about to melt into tearless sobs. I squeeze her hands. We are close enough now that our pearl necklaces catch the same lantern’s glow, and they light up like twin beacons in the night.
“Please, Evie. Go. Let me have this peace.”
I won’t. She knows I won’t.
The distance and whispers won’t guarantee us privacy, but they’re the best I can do. I keep my voice quiet yet confident. “Remember, I have a plan.”
Annemette rips her hands from mine and presses them to her face. “It’s useless! Neither you nor I have magic powerful enough to stave off what is to come. Just go!”
My words are barely audible. “I’m powerful enough,” I say, the words coming out strong and clear. “Please believe me.”
She sob-laughs. “You are so ridiculously stubborn.” Annemette swipes at her eyes, but doesn’t go on. I take her silence as an invitation.
“You know magic is barter—despite how different we are, we both know this. Magic with the sea is no different. We give to the sea, it returns you to land in kind.” Annemette doesn’t say anything, her features closing tight—trying to make sense of this. I quietly hurry into more of an explanation. “I’ve tested this. I know my magic is rigid and book-learned, but it’s right. And tonight, on the last night of Urda’s festival, our magic is strong. Stronger than any night of the year. Don’t you feel it?” I touch my pearl necklace, whose throbbing has grown as the days have gone by. “We are at one with Urda; we are balanced, and that is what magic is all about—balancing our inner power with the forces around us, giving and taking. It’s Urda’s way, and she and the sea both require like for like. They took Anna—”
“I am not Anna,” Annemette says plainly, clearly annoyed. “If you keep believing that, whatever you have planned won’t work!”
I shake my head. “I know you don’t remember. Maybe you never will, but this is something I can feel. I can feel Anna inside of you. But it doesn’t matter, Annemette—I care for you just as you are. Our friendship can be so much more than mine with Anna’s ever was. You and I are the same!
“Look,” I go on, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible, “the sea took Anna from me four years ago. And even if that girl only lives on as a memory in you, the sea took her soul. You did not keep it.” At this Annemette flinches. “And that’s what you need to survive. Anna’s soul is one portion of the exchange. The sea took from us and now it owes me—you—a soul in return.”
But she doesn’t consider a word I say. She only turns and raises her voice, and I realize both princes have followed us out—what they’ve heard, I don’t know.
“I must leave tonight, Nik,” she says.
Nik glances at me, but then returns his attention to Annemette, taking a step toward her. “Now? But the ball isn’t over yet,” Nik says, sadness in his voice. Behind him, Iker cocks a brow.
“I have to go. I’m sorry.”
Nik is about to say more, but Iker barges into the conversation, taking a few steps until he’s towering above both of us. “I wasn’t aware of a midnight train to Odense, and no carriage will take you that far. Surely you aren’t going to walk.”
Nik shoots Iker a look of warning but doesn’t say a word. Instead, he takes both Annemette’s hands. “If you need to go, then go. I understand.”
“So, you’re going to vanish in the middle of the night? What a plan!” Iker’s eyes flash and he steps away from the wall. “Break his heart but not his spirit, return again in a few months and he’ll be so happy, he’l
l just throw himself at you—title and all? Too bad you failed at the first step—”
“Enough, Iker! If she needs to leave, she needs to leave,” Nik shouts. I don’t know why Nik isn’t suspicious too, but I have a feeling it’s because he trusts me. And I trust Annemette.
“I really have to go,” Annemette says, rushing to Nik’s side. “I’m so sorry.” She moves to kiss him on the cheek, when Iker grabs her by the arm.
“Witches are creatures of the night. That’s it, isn’t it? Is your cauldron about to boil over? Do you have toads that need simmering? Brew to bottle?”
“Iker!” Nik shouts, and pushes him off her.
But Iker keeps going, turning more and more into a monster than the man I love. “Or is it simply that your broom has arrived and you mustn’t leave your favorite mode of transportation waiting?”
Annemette’s calm cracks wide open, her teeth bared in the moonlight. “I am not a witch, you ox!”
“Then what are you? A fairy? A ghost? Or maybe just a con artist, like Evie once suggested. Foreign trash finding an easy mark in our Nik.” Iker’s teeth are gritted in that feral grin as he twists the knife.
I latch onto Iker’s forearm, and Nik moves protectively in front of Annemette, but neither of us can stop Iker’s momentum.
“How many lonely boys have fallen for your tricks? Five? Ten? Twenty? Whatever the number, I’m sure this one here would make quite the feather in your pointy little hat. He’s definitely got enough gold to retire on.”
“Stop!” Nik shoves Iker away, and though Iker barely budges, I lose my grip on him and stumble into the table.
Iker stands his ground but holds out his hand to haul me up. His eyes flash at Nik. “Look what the witch has made you do.” I push his hand away and get to my feet.
“She isn’t a witch,” I say.
“I am not.” Annemette’s voice is firm. She’s done backing down. “And I must go.”
“Doesn’t he deserve to know why?” Iker says then points a hand toward Nik. “The man you’ve been tossing yourself at out of love for three straight days? If you aren’t leaving in the middle of Havnestad’s biggest ball for nefarious purposes, surely you can tell him the reason. At least give the man that.”
Sea Witch Page 20
