Althea shook her head.
“The bride and groom will want time alone. I expect everyone will go to bed within the hour.”
Fiora closed her eyes to hide the tears that welled up at the thought of Gustave and Elspeth’s wedding night. She reached for the dagger and squeezed it tightly. The smooth surface was cold and unyielding in her hand.
“Wait for our signal,” Althea said. “I’m sorry, Fiora, but this is the only way.”
Fiora nodded. She didn’t like it, but Althea was right.
If she didn’t want to die, this was the only way.
64
Gustave leaned against the railing, watching twinkling lights of the city disappear on the horizon. He blinked as a wave crashed against the ship and splashed his face.
He blinked again and saw his surroundings as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep. He stood on the deck of a ship sailing in the open water. Montaigne was a smudge of light on the horizon.
Gustave felt pressure on his fingertips and realized he was holding hands with someone. He followed the hand upward, examining a delicate arm and elegant shoulder before reaching the woman’s face.
She was pretty, although he couldn’t quite place her. It wasn’t that he knew her, but rather that she reminded him of someone else that he knew very well. Those eyes were achingly familiar, although not quite blue enough. And her hair seemed too light. Too golden.
She wore a wedding gown. The wedding gown Marquis Corbeau had commissioned. It suited her, but somehow also looked out of place. Gustave preferred it on the mannequin.
Or Lady Mer.
Gustave’s hand went limp as he remembered the events that had led him here. He had abandoned Lady Mer on the dance floor. The look of betrayal in her eyes should have melted stone, but he had simply walked away.
Why had he walked away?
Because there had been a song. A voice. The voice he had been looking for since the shipwreck.
He tried to pull his hand away, but the woman tightened her grip and pulled him towards her.
“Is everything alright, Gustave?” she whispered.
That voice. Gustave knew that voice. It curled around his thoughts like a snake, filling every crevice and covering the memories of Lady Mer and his family until there was only her.
Only Elspeth.
She squeezed his hand again and smiled. That smile drove any doubts out of Gustave’s head. He was happy now that he had her.
Elspeth was all that mattered.
“Come to bed with me?”
Her voice was a song that filled Gustave’s senses. With a start, he remembered they were married. That was why Elspeth was wearing a wedding gown. This was their wedding night.
No, that wasn’t right. Gustave looked to the sea again, trying to make sense of the evening and take control of his thoughts. He hadn’t meant to marry anyone tonight. Elspeth hummed, pulling his attention back to her face. To her lips.
Golden fog filled Gustave’s head, and he bent over to kiss his bride. The fog intensified as his lips met hers, and he wrapped his hands around her waist to pull her closer. Elspeth clung to him, returning the kiss until they were both gasping for breath.
The world had never felt so right.
Elspeth leaned close and sang softly in his ear. That tune. That voice. It was everything.
She took his hand and pulled him across the ship to the captain’s cabin.
“Alone at last,” Elspeth sang.
She reached up and ran her fingers through Gustave’s hair.
It was a warm room. Maybe a little too warm, all wood and flickering candles reflected in an ornate mirror in the corner. Moonlight streamed through a large picture window, illuminating an enormous bed in the center.
Gustave’s pulse raced when he saw the bed. A warning tried to ring out in his head, but the golden fog swallowed it. He was excited about his wedding night. That was all.
He turned to his bride, who smiled sweetly at him.
“Perhaps some wine first, my love?”
She poured a glass and offered it to him. The ruby liquid glistened against the crystal. Gustave took the glass and watched the wine ripple in the cup while Elspeth poured another glass for herself.
The longer he looked at it, the more it reminded him of blood.
“To true love,” Elspeth said.
She raised her glass to clink against Gustave’s, then took a sip.
Gustave did the same. The taste was darker than he expected. Bitter.
His already foggy thoughts blurred further. He stumbled, spilling most of the wine onto the floor. Elspeth took the glass from him and held it to his lips.
“Take another drink, Gustave. Just one more sip. For me.”
Her face was a beautiful blur. A smear of gold and white in the darkness. Gustave tried to obey her and take another drink, but the wine sloshed onto his beard instead. Elspeth sighed.
“I suppose that’s the best you can do. Come to bed now, Your Majesty.”
She set their glasses down on a nearby table and guided him across the room. Gustave followed clumsily. Bed. That was where he should be. It was his wedding night, and he was supposed to be in bed.
Gustave collapsed face first onto the covers and rolled over, searching the darkness for Elspeth. He should tell her that he loved her. He should apologize for falling asleep so quickly. This was their wedding night, but he was so very tired. He just needed a short nap, then he could give her the attention she deserved.
His love deserved everything.
But Elspeth had disappeared, and Gustave could no longer keep his eyes open. Darkness swept away the golden fog as he fell into a deep sleep.
65
Fiora sat in the darkness and stared at the dagger. It was as elegant as it was deadly. The blade and handle were carved from a single pearl and decorated with symbols like the ones used to carve songs into seashells.
But this enchantment was not created with a song. It drew power from hair and blood. From the body itself.
Forbidden magic.
The knife gleamed in the moonlight, swirls of red and black that had once been the mermaids’ hair trapped in its luminescent surface. They danced around each other as if they were alive.
Fiora closed her eyes, but the colors remained, dancing through black instead of white.
The sun would rise soon. She could feel it. The pain had spread from her legs to her stomach and settled there in knots that refused to uncurl.
Would it hurt to turn to sea foam? Or would it come as a relief to fade into the waves and gently wash to shore?
Fiora bit her lip, wishing she could scream in frustration. She didn’t want to die.
And she didn’t want to kill.
She set the pearl knife on a nearby table and stared at the moon until Althea’s signal came. Her aunt’s soft song made the dagger flicker like candlelight, as if it could sense the magic in the mermaid’s voice. Fiora pushed off the chair and gasped in pain as her feet hit the floor. She gathered up the full skirt of Dowager Queen Bernadine’s gown and looked down at her legs.
Dark bruises had spread across her skin. They traced the patterns of her veins and crawled up her ankles. Fiora took a shuddering breath and picked up the knife. There was only one way to stop this.
And it must be stopped.
The ship’s deck was empty. Fiora heard a noise in the distance and squinted at the horizon. Althea’s distraction had apparently involved luring the entire crew into a lifeboat and sending them back to shore. The boat floated towards Montaigne and disappeared into the darkness.
So long as Gustave and Elspeth stayed asleep, no one could stop her.
Fiora limped across the deck, stumbling as waves rocked the ship. She tried to hurry as she felt the curse’s magic growing, but it was no good. She couldn’t walk any faster than her current pace.
The rough wood of the ship’s deck stabbed her feet, aggravating her skin rather than soothing it as the cool marble had. If she
had been walking on knives before, she was walking on broken glass now.
Fiora kept her gaze on the cabin door as she moved. She needed to focus on her goal. The knife warmed in her hand as if agreeing with her.
When she finally reached the other side of the ship, Fiora leaned against the wood to rest for a moment. She pressed her ear against the door and listened.
She heard only soft, rhythmic breathing.
The newlyweds were asleep.
Fiora turned the latch and pushed. The door opened without a sound.
The candles had sputtered out, but the moon shone through the window brightly enough to illuminate the room.
Gustave lay asleep in the bed. Elspeth’s side was empty. It seemed the new bride had gone elsewhere after her groom fell asleep.
Fiora pushed the door closed and locked it. Then she swallowed and turned back to the bed.
Gustave still wore his suit from the gala. The one that matched Fiora’s gown. At some point he had put on shoes, and he hadn’t bothered to take them off before going to sleep.
He lay on top of the covers in a wrinkled mess. His hair was tousled, and something sticky stained his beard.
His right hand stretched across the bed towards the place where Elspeth should have been. Fiora stared at his hand for a moment. It looked lonely, lying empty on the bed by itself like that.
If they were truly in love, shouldn’t they be snuggled together? Where had the bride gone?
Fiora shook her head. It was a good thing that Elspeth was gone. She needed to hurry and finish this before her sister returned.
Pain rippled from her stomach to her chest, and Fiora doubled over in agony. She was running out of time.
She leaned against the wall, using it to keep herself upright as she limped towards Gustave.
Why did it have to be Gustave? Why couldn’t she have stabbed a random crew member?
Or Elspeth. Would the dagger work if she killed Elspeth instead?
There was no time to ask Althea, and Fiora shook the thought away. As much as she hated her half-sister, she didn’t want to kill her. Elspeth was family.
And Gustave was-
Fiora paused, studying Gustave’s peaceful face.
What was Gustave to her?
A friend, certainly. Also the man who had betrayed her. The one who had offered hope then ripped it away.
Fiora pushed away from the wall and raised the knife. It was simple enough. Plunge the dagger into his heart. Spill his blood and save her life.
She stood for a long moment with the knife raised. Gustave’s chest rose and fell as he breathed peacefully.
Stop that breathing and save yourself. Silence his gentle voice forever.
The dagger glowed brighter, filling the cabin with an ethereal glow. It seemed eager to fulfill its purpose. As if it could sense what she was about to do.
The life she was about to take.
Gustave’s face blurred as Fiora’s eyes filled with tears. She lowered the knife.
She couldn’t do it.
Call it weakness. Call it crazy. But no matter how he had betrayed her, Fiora could not kill this man.
She loved him too much.
The realization washed over her in waves almost as painful as the curse. She dropped to her knees and gasped for air as silent sobs shook her body. She loved Gustave.
He did not return her love. He never would. But that changed nothing.
Love was a thing freely given. Not a prize to be earned.
And she would give it. She would pay for it with her life.
Fiora set the knife on the floor and raised shaking hands.
“I love you. I know you can’t see me. You wouldn’t hear me even if I could speak. But I love you, and I hope you’ll be happy.”
Fiora crawled forward, smoothed Gustave’s tangled hair, and kissed him softly on the forehead.
He stirred, and Fiora stiffened. What would she do if he woke up now? How on earth would she explain what she was doing in his bedroom on his wedding night?
But Gustave only smiled and sighed in his sleep. He was probably dreaming of Elspeth.
Fiora didn’t have the strength to stand. She grabbed the knife and crawled across the floor. She unlocked the door, pulled herself over the ship’s deck, and leaned against the railing.
Althea, Kathelin, and Zoe floated in the ocean below. They looked at her with hopeful expressions that quickly turned to horror.
“No,” Althea said. “Fiora, he’s not worth it!”
Fiora stared at them a moment longer, silently apologizing.
Then she lifted the dagger and threw it as far as she could.
The pearl knife hit the water with a hiss and disappeared beneath the waves.
66
Black and gold swirled together in Gustave’s dreams. He had the vague feeling that he should be resting, but instead his heart pounded as he fought something he couldn’t quite name. Pressure built in his forehead, and he wished he could sleep and forget it all.
If he slept more, maybe he could remember whatever was pressing at the back of his mind. The faint sense of urgency that he was missing something important.
Something soft and warm pressed against his forehead. The gold mist shone brighter for a moment, then disappeared into darkness. His headache vanished.
Gustave tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t move his eyelids. He couldn’t move anything. His body refused to cooperate.
But his mind was finally clear. The thing he had been trying to remember flooded back to him.
It was a face. A woman. She sat beside him on a beach. Her red hair gleamed in the moonlight, and her blue eyes sparkled. She sang to him. A song of healing that washed away the pain.
And finally, Gustave recognized her.
Princess Fiora.
She had saved him somehow. Found him at sea and brought him to safety.
Why hadn’t he remembered that before?
Another face appeared in the memory. This woman was similar to Fiora, but her hair was less red and her eyes less blue. She sang as well, but instead of healing Gustave, the song imprisoned him, wrapping around his thoughts and filling his mind with confusion.
He had been cursed! Elspeth had used a song to ensnare him and make him forget Fiora!
Gustave tried to sit up, but his body still refused to move.
The events of the past few hours rushed back to him. Elspeth appearing at the gala and luring him away from Lady Mer with her song.
Lady Mer was Princess Fiora. Why hadn’t he seen that before?
Had he actually married Elspeth? Gustave groaned as scenes from the evening flickered through his mind. No wonder his grandmother had been furious. Collette had probably been working like mad to find a way to stop him. What else could explain her disheveled state at the ceremony?
But Gustave was king, and he had insisted. And Marquis Corbeau had been prepared for anything.
The mattress rocked beneath him, and Gustave remembered that he was on a boat.
On his honeymoon.
Blast it all. He was on a honeymoon with Elspeth. He searched his memory, trying to remember what exactly had happened once they left Montaigne. His stomach churned as he remembered his lips on hers. His hands on her waist. Had it gone further than that?
He didn’t think so, but why couldn’t he remember?
There had been wine. A strange bitter taste.
That witch had drugged him!
Gustave fought the drowsiness that held him captive. It didn’t feel magical. Not like the golden fog that Elspeth had spun with her song. This was likely caused by whatever she had slipped into his wine.
Something had made the fog disappear. Why had it suddenly released him?
According to Elaine’s research, it was likely true love’s kiss or exposure to the same kind of magic that had created it.
Elspeth had cursed him with a song. Gustave didn’t remember hearing anyone else sing when the golden mist faded.
; Had someone kissed him then? Was that what the soft touch on his forehead had been?
Gustave opened his eyes and found himself alone in the moonlit cabin. Whoever had kissed him was gone.
As was his bride.
Gustave pushed himself up and stood. He swayed and waited for the dizziness to pass.
He needed to get out of here. He needed to escape and find Lady Mer and apologize.
“Lady Mer is Princess Fiora.”
On one hand, that seemed unbelievable. It would take some getting used to.
On the other, it seemed obvious. Why hadn’t he realized it before? Fiora’s bright blue eyes had stayed with him since that day on the docks in Aeonia. Why hadn’t he realized they were the same as Lady Mer’s?
Because of the curse, although that felt like a thin excuse. He should have been stronger. Should have realized what was happening and fought it. Should have resisted Elspeth somehow.
He hoped Fiora would forgive him. He hoped he could explain.
He had been so convinced that she was under a spell, but he had been the one cursed all along.
But Princess Fiora wasn’t mute, and she had sung for him that day on the beach.
Why had she remained silent as Lady Mer?
Gustave stumbled as a wave of dizziness swept over him. He crashed into the table, knocking over the poisoned wine as he scrambled to catch his balance and stay upright. The ruby liquid ran over the wood, soaking a stack of papers held in place by a large conch shell.
He rubbed his head, trying to push away the last of the dizziness, and stumbled out of the cabin. He tripped on something outside the door and cried out in alarm when he saw what it was.
Princess Fiora lay sprawled unconscious on the ship’s deck.
67
Fiora groaned as someone lifted her into the air. Her whole body ached as she moved, then settled onto something soft. A bed?
She opened her eyes. Pain blurred her vision, and she breathed deeply until her head cleared enough for her to see the person sitting next to her.
It was Gustave.
He studied her with concern and gently took her hand.
Princess of Mermaids Page 35
