“Where is everyone?”
“These halls are not used much as our numbers shrink. The closer we move toward the throne room, the more populated it becomes.” She pauses. “When we arrive, remember who you are. Hold your chin up, shoulders straight, and they will accept you faster.”
Great, add that to the pile of stuff to worry about. I’ve been concentrating so hard on making a positive impression with Stavros I completely forgot about the rest of them. I can only guess a half-human in their presence might cause worry, shock, or outright annoyance.
We round the corner and a grand atrium comes into view. Here is the world I imagined. My jaw goes slack and I press a palm to my gut to ease the quivering there.
The vast space towers at least ten stories into the middle of the hollow volcano and light from the sun trickles down faintly through the water. Balconies open into the space from all sides, their white rails closely resembling coral.
There are mermaids and mermen everywhere. They swim above us and linger in nooks and arched doorways. It’s impossible not to stare. The mer are as diverse as humans—all ages, size, shape, and color.
Bare-chested mermen are adorned with small amounts of jewelry—rings and cuffs and hoops in their ears. Most wear their hair long, a ridiculous cliché, but others have smooth, bald heads painted with dazzling and intricate designs. I even notice a few wearing makeup on their cheeks and lips, like the mermaids accompanying them. Far from what I expected, especially after meeting Nerio, who is masculine in comparison. While there are some who are muscular, their bulging biceps showing strength, the range between hard abs and flabby stomachs is normal. The exotic body art isn’t.
My attention turns to the females. Many don’t wear anything to cover their painted and decorated breasts, but they act as if it’s perfectly natural. Which, in their world, it obviously is. Torsos sport intricate designs, similar to tattoos, and, in cases, covering every free inch of skin, reflecting the colors of their tails. The lack of clothing focuses the attention on accessories, more abundant than their male counterparts. Enough jewelry to make anyone drool adorns wrists, necks and belly buttons, and their hair.
The hair is captivating, too. Some is dyed in vivid, unnatural colors or shaved completely and the heads decorated in foreign designs. I could be staring at a circus or a band of gypsies instead of mermaids. It’s a feast for the eyes.
It’s difficult to process the sights because I’m also aware of them gawking and whispering to each other. Not normal staring either. It’s the kind that involves conversations stopping and tasks forgotten. Simply put, manners are left behind. Openmouthed mer track my every movement and I remember Galina’s advice. Fixing my stare straight ahead, I hold my head high, as a true princess would.
This only causes me to be distracted by the hall itself again. Vibrant murals depicting ocean life decorate the higher walls. Up the middle of the space rises an obelisk. The tall stone spire is covered in carvings and the base is encircled by sea flowers and anemones.
I struggle to keep up with Galina and not be left behind. We approach a huge set of richly decorated double doors off the main atrium, which must be the throne room. My grandmother pauses and offers me an encouraging nod. Two guards pull them ajar and not even their duty stops them from ogling. We swim past and I’m dumbstruck by the scene before me.
The room is magnificent—two stories tall, ancient, and built like a fortress. The polished floor spreads out, the same soft pink in the rest of the palace. Pink shouldn’t be a manly color, but seeing it here gives it a masculine feel. To each side of me, rows of statues line the walls. Each is a merman, and occasionally a mermaid, with an array of expressions. Some are fierce and others timid, but, regardless, they are all breathtaking.
Finally, my gaze rests on the thrones themselves. They appear to be intricately embellished with coral and adorned with seashells, but this is not the time to investigate. My attention falls on the man sitting at the front.
If my palms were able to sweat, they would. So many worries prance through my mind—from whether or not he’ll accept me to what his voice sounds like. I wonder if he’ll sense how imperfect I am and my thundering heart goes into overdrive. Pity from him will hurt worse than any of the other I’ve dealt with.
Mom didn’t do Stavros justice when she described him. He’s easily the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, his presence exuding power. Gray streaks his thick, black hair and his familiar ice blue eyes settle on me as I pause inside the door. A golden crown sits atop his brow, accented with seashells and pearls that shimmer as he cocks his head to the side. His rugged face stares down at me. I’m intimidated, until I recognize kindness in his gaze, as well as love and acceptance.
He grasps the sides of the throne, his knuckles white in the effort, and his shoulders are as rigid as the surrounding walls. I sense he’s having a hard time holding himself back. After studying me for a while, he raises an arm and motions me forward.
When I hesitate, Galina encourages me by subtly pushing from behind. Steadying my nerves, I swim up and stop couple feet from him.
“My daughter,” he breathes out reverently. “Oh, how I wish I’d known about you. I only have to peer into your face to know that you’re mine.”
There is some lingering anger in his tone when he speaks and I have no idea what to say in return, so I wait be inspired with an appropriate reply. My eyes prick and I’m thankful no one will notice I’m tearing up.
“I’m happy to be here, thank you.” The words sound too formal and I wince inwardly. “The palace is cool.” I flinch again. Nothing is coming out properly.
His eyes crinkle at the edges, as if he understands and forgives my awkwardness. Inch by inch my limbs loosen and the invisible rod keeping my spine stiff disappears.
“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you wish, Zoey. I’m grateful for the chance to know you.” He moves his hands, tapping against his tail, fidgeting. “I’d like a chance to make up for all our lost time, to ensure you feel at home here.”
One of the doors open and a guard peeks in. “Forgive me, King Stavros, but you asked to be alerted when the envoy was here.”
Stavros nods once and the door closes.
With regret, he says, “I wish I had more time, but I must meet with the Atlantic envoy. Galina will show you where you’ll be staying and I’ll see you at dinner.” He pauses, adjusting his crown. “You are so beautiful.”
His words light me up and most of my doubt disappears. At a loss for words, I manage to smile at him as Galina guides me to the door.
We’re out in the atrium again, amongst the curious merpeople, but I don’t really pay attention. That was my father. I’m not sure what to make of him after less than ten minutes, but I wish I’d been less awestruck and managed to say more.
Galina watches me expectantly and I say, “He’s tense. It’s not because of my presence, is it?”
“Oh, my sweet girl, no. It has nothing to do with you. We’re under a lot of stress lately. You’re a bright spot. I’m the one he is cross at. I kept a huge secret from him and it will take my son a while to forgive me. Family is sacred to him and I betrayed it.”
I let that digest as she adds, “Pay no attention to that. I’ll show you to your room.”
Chapter Seventeen
We set off into another part of the palace and I am continuously distracted by every little detail. Here, closer to the atrium and throne room, the halls are finely decorated. The rough, stone walls are embedded with ancient fossils, adding to the texture. Where I thought it would be dark, glass sconces hold small iridescent fish, the kind that live in greater depths and give off their own light, throwing shadows that constantly move across every surface. Here and there, intense murals grace the walls, a feast for my curiosity.
“This will be your room, Zoey. You’ve been assigned a handmaiden, Desma, who will ensure you have what you need. She’ll also assist you in becoming accustomed to the more unfamiliar items and our cu
lture.”
Following her through the doorway, my mind eats up every tiny detail, tucking it away to be analyzed later.
There’s a bed and a window and a vanity. The walls are accented with starfish and decorated turtle shells boasting images that appear Polynesian. The bed itself is immense and I struggle to understand why there is one to begin with. I haven’t stopped to consider how the mer sleep. I swim over and touch it.
“What is it made of?”
A new voice answers. “The frame is soft stone, as is most of our furniture. The inside is sand, covered by a layer of finely woven plants.”
I turn to the source. A young mermaid has joined us. Her long, dark hair flows behind her and I estimate she’s in her early twenties.
She floats forward and bows. “My name is Desma and please, anything you require, you only have to ask.”
It’s hard to grow accustomed to the other mermaids, let alone ones bowing before me. Adjusting to life as a so-called princess will be difficult. I’m not comfortable being showered with attention anyway. The idea that strangers throughout the kingdom know about me is disturbing.
“Thank you. I’m going to need a lot of help.”
“I’ll leave you to settle in and see you at dinner,” Galina says, drawing close to kiss my cheek.
Once she’s gone, Desma relaxes. A mirror on the small vanity surprises me and I am captivated by the reflection. It’s me, but it’s not. I felt so out of place among the mer in the atrium, knowing I stood out, a flaw in their perfect world. But the girl in the mirror is perfect. She is an exotic mermaid. Witnessing myself in this form steals my breath. I’m aware of the other presence watching, so I will wait to study my new persona later, without an audience.
“Where do they come from?” I ask, indicating the mirror and hoping to draw attention from my startled image.
“They’re retrieved from sunken ships. We’re very resourceful and do a lot of scavenging. There is no waste in the ocean.” She flashes a saucy grin. “Besides, we tend to be a bit vain.”
From what I’ve seen, she’s not exaggerating. If they have mirrors, maybe they have glass on the windows. I reach out, curious about the small window and find it is open to the outside. “Don’t you worry about a predator coming in?”
Desma blinks, as if struggling to understand the question, and then asks, “What would come in here? Nothing dangerous would dare venture near the palace. You’re safe.”
The image of a streamlined shark flashes in front of me, but I won’t argue with her. Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion and hunger rolls over me. Food and sleep are what I crave.
But first, I have to attend a dinner.
“Galina mentioned earlier about preparing for tonight. How exactly does that work? Normally, I’d take a shower.”
“We don’t get dirty the way humans do. All we have to worry about is buildup of the gunk trickling down from above. The easiest way to cure it is by this.” She picks up a sponge, similar to what I use in our bathroom at home. “You run it over your skin and tail to remove the fine layer of buildup. Here, let me show you.”
Desma lifts my arm and rubs the sponge down it with a little bit of pressure. When she’s finished, she says, “Now, feel this compared to the other.”
Running my hands up both I notice a difference. The one she cleaned is smooth and soft while the other is covered in grime I didn’t realize was there. I accept the sponge so I can complete the task, rubbing it all over. Afterward, I am significantly fresher, lighter.
“That’s awesome. What about hair?” Glancing at the mirror, mine is a mess. The bonus about being in water is my hair stays soft and more manageable as it floats around me in a cloud, but it still tangles.
She turns to the vanity and picks up a strange spiny object. “This is a Crown of Thorns starfish that died naturally. Their strong spines are perfect for combing hair.”
To demonstrate, she moves behind me and starts using it. The spines tickle my scalp as I say, “It’s weird how everything is so normal and yet different at the same time.”
“You are adjusting very well.” Her face screws up in thought. “Although, this dinner may be a bit of an overload. I don’t envy you at all. Everyone will be watching. You’ll be thrust into the spotlight, as your kind says.”
I sigh. It’s exactly what I’m afraid of. “How many will be there?”
She finishes combing my locks and swings in front of me with a look of sympathy. “Almost everyone. All the important families will be interested in you.”
“Do you think Nerio will go?”
“He won’t.” Her nostrils flare in response. “Nerio is very good-looking, but he’s a guard. You’re a royal. It wouldn’t be allowed. Besides, I know him and you’re not his type.”
“How?” I strive to keep my inquisition neutral, but it comes out snotty instead.
Her gaze pierces me. “He’s my brother.”
My heart sinks. I don’t want her flitting off and reporting how I’m a bratty princess. I itch with the temptation to ask her what actually is his type, but it’s not a smart idea. She probably won’t appreciate it and I need all the friends I can find.
To change the subject, I inquire about the queen. “What is Magdalena like?”
Desma’s features relax marginally as she lowers her voice. “She’s not kind, as the king is. She’s cold. You can’t deny her beauty and voluptuous body, but a lot of people wish the king had a better mate. Her daughter, Eustacia, is exactly the same, very spoiled. She won’t be happy sharing the title of princess.”
Perfect. Making enemies, especially of my family, is out of the question. Hopefully they have no preconceived notions about why I’m here. It’d be nice to fit in with them seamlessly, but I’m an outsider. That might be asking a lot.
Next, Desma passes me a beaded bikini top. It’s considerably more appropriate than the one I’m wearing and I let her help me put it on. Up close, I notice instead of beads, there are tiny shells woven together with a type of netting. It’s exquisite.
The young mermaid continues talking, making it clear she’s a bit of a gossip. Great for learning, but she’s tossing out too many names and facts for me to keep straight. I wish I were back out in the ocean, with Nerio, where we only had to worry about storms and sharks. That seems safer than what I am about to walk into. Or swim into. All I can do is nod and agree every now and then as she rambles on.
And avoid yawning.
Chapter Eighteen
We return to the atrium and night has fallen, darkening the already meager light and causing the glow from the fish lamps to illuminate the corners of the vast space. The cozy mood does nothing to chase away my sleepiness, adding a few extra pounds to my heavy eyelids.
Same as before, everyone gawks at me without shame as we pass. The difference now is a few actually smile in greeting or bow out of respect. Nausea, which moments ago wreaked havoc on my stomach, lessens and I suck in a deep breath, my gills contracting in response. Maybe the spectacle of a half-human princess will wear off quicker than I thought.
Many are fixed up fancier and more extravagantly than they were earlier. One young mermaid is covered entirely in scales, real and painted. It’s hard to discern where the tail ends and the torso begins. A merman passes with starfish woven into his flowing hair, then another with neon pink curls. The odd sights are so interesting and I ignore the urge to gawk.
The hall we enter is another immense, beautiful space filled with stone tables and matching chairs. Jars of luminous fish sit on each table, casting shadows on the walls.
Desma escorts me to the front, where my father is. She dips in a graceful bow and slips off before I can thank her. Stavros surges forward and hugs me in greeting. I’m surprised, but relax in his strong embrace, feeling safe.
“I’m sorry about earlier, Zoey. It was not my intention to turn you away so soon.”
His words lift my mood and I reassure him. “It’s okay. I imagine an unexpected daughter throws a wrenc
h in your daily routine. I understand.”
He chuckles and keeping an arm draped over my shoulders, he turns to introduce me to a dark-haired mermaid.
“Zoey, this is my wife, Queen Magdalena.”
Like Nerio, she’s darker-skinned, exotic, with a long mass of jet black hair and cold green eyes. Her full lips are turned down in a frown. It’s the one thing stopping her from being drop dead gorgeous.
I bow, as I’ve seen so many do, and say, “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”
She sneers down her nose at me. “It wasn’t exactly my choice, was it?”
Without another word, she flits away.
Desma warned me she was cold, but to witness it firsthand is shocking, especially since it happens in front of the king. I am embarrassed for him.
A younger mirror image of Magdalena remains behind. This must be Eustacia. She furrows her perfectly arched brows and follows in her mother’s wake. Stavros squeezes my shoulder in support, and it helps a bit. I didn’t exactly expect a warm greeting, but their behavior is ridiculous and rude.
A few mermen are gathered nearby and Stavros introduces me to his head advisor, Alexios. The opposite of Stavros’s wife and daughter, Alexios gives me a genuine reaction.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Zoey. The king has spoken of nothing else since learning of your existence. We’re blessed to have you.”
“Thank you. It’s a lot to get used to, but the longer I’m here the more comfortable I am,” I say.
“If you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask. I am your father’s most loyal subject.”
Stavros slaps him on the back. “He’s also a trusted friend.”
Galina joins us and the final traces of my tension rolls off. She is the most reassuring and calming woman I’ve ever met. With her at my other side, my confidence grows and I’m introduced to many mer I am certain I’ll forget straightaway. At least a hundred have gathered and the weight of their stares is heavy, judging and assessing.
Into the Deep Page 9
