The Wild Mermaid Read online

  Yet, slowly, her presence grew. The physic was starting to take effect, and that seemed to help her control.

  The last times Cora had slept, Kyla had awoken on the beach, but no matter how many times she called, cried, and demanded that Cora join her, nothing had happened. The effort had only worn at her, leaving Kyla with the sensation that she was becoming smaller than what she had been.

  It made her afraid.

  What if Maestro was right and Kyla was supposed to be dead? Or at least, permanently incapacitated. Maybe her newfound self-awareness was only temporary. Even now, she struggled to waken and the fog had returned.

  What would happen to Kyla now? Maybe given enough time, her awareness would vanish. Or maybe she could be eternally punished, forced to watch Cora live without ever being able to contact her. Would that be a consequence worse than Kyla’s death?

  After all, there was the cost of her transformation, and Kyla had avoided paying it.

  She swallowed, her throat dry. It was always dry. She shifted her body and meticulously worked toward standing. It wasn’t effortless, but the more momentum she collected, the easier movement became.

  “Cora?” she whispered.

  It was hazy, and the fog was thick. The atmosphere gave her little reason to hope she’d succeed.

  “Cora!” she called louder this time.

  She needed to do something different.

  Kyla took a few steps into the water, feeling nauseous as she did so. If nothing changed, maybe she’d have to find the courage to swim beyond…

  She kicked at the sand but calmed herself. Desperate times seemed to call for something strange. Kyla listened to her intuition, choosing how to proceed.

  She reached out to the mists, asking them to clear, telling them to move aside. It was a strange request—effectively talking to air—and something she never would’ve attempted as a human. But she wasn’t quite human anymore.

  Kyla was a fragment, a leftover, little more than nothing. But she could be more.

  To her amazement, the clouds did as they were told. Soon the skies became blue, and the sun appeared over the sea. She shielded her eyes from its brightness and tried calling out again.

  “Cora,” she whispered, connecting the word with all she knew of the playful mermaid, the one she’d chosen to become.

  A gust of wind shot along her coast, and she shivered, understanding that her request had been heard. Now, she had to wait for a response.

  She stared at the calm, empty ocean.

  Then she saw her. Cora flitted her fin, playing in the water, joy filling her every movement. Relief flooded Kyla.

  It worked.

  They raced toward each other, and Kyla stepped into the water finding a place where she and Cora could meet.

  “You’re back,” Cora singsonged. “You can help!”

  She could help? Kyla frowned, the exclamation upsetting her. She didn’t seem capable of anything but being stuck on a sandy beach. She’d barely been able to contact Cora in the first place. She was almost useless.

  “I don’t—” Kyla stammered.

  But Cora kept talking. Babbling. She spoke of Maestro’s Melusine and Sarina’s deathbreath. She explained how nervous she felt about their escape tomorrow, uncertain what would happen once they left Atlantis behind… She went on.

  Everything about her words irritated Kyla. She’d seen it all already, knew where they were and what was happening to them. This was a waste of time.

  “I’m so thankful you’re here,” Cora concluded. “I’ll be so much safer with you by my side.” She looked at Kyla with her bubbly eyes.

  And Kyla knew she would fail.

  As she had failed herself, she would fail Cora too. After all, Kyla had allowed herself to be serenaded; she’d traded her legs for a tail. Now she was barely strong enough to maintain awareness. Cora’s faith in her was terribly misplaced.

  Why had she worked so hard to bring Cora to her beach? What did she hope to accomplish? She hadn’t planned that far.

  “I can’t,” Kyla whispered.

  Cora didn’t seem to hear her. She just kept looking at her with those incessantly cheery eyes.

  “I can’t.” Louder.

  Cora tilted her head. “Why?”

  “Seriously, why do you believe in me?” Kyla said. “I’m not beautiful like you. Nor fun or silly. I’m the idiot who Triton serenaded, the reason all of this happened. Maestro’s right—I’m not even supposed to be here.”

  Cora stared at her, unsure.

  Kyla wished she could stop. She was acting self-destructively, she knew it, but—

  Cora blinked her rounded eyes one more time.

  Frustration had been stewing, collecting in Kyla’s awareness for some time. This was a grudge she had unwillingly grown, one she could no longer ignore.

  “I don’t want to be mean. I want to encourage you, but…” Kyla continued, “I think you should figure this out without me. I’m not strong enough to help you.”

  Cora furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t believe that—you are everything—”

  “I’m not!” The water was growing icy cold, and Kyla ran for the beach. “I’m nothing that you think I am!”

  Cora stilled in the water, her face contorting into an adorable pout.

  That only irritated Kyla further. “I called you here so I could say goodbye.”

  Cora didn’t move.

  “Go!”

  When Cora still didn’t respond, Kyla’s anger grew, and the bad weather returned. At first, it was a cloud materializing before the sun, but soon fog came from the ocean, swamping the beach.

  “Everything will be better if you stop depending on me,” Kyla cried. The worst part was that she didn’t think she was being dramatic. The words felt true.

  Cora studied Kyla. “I don’t understand,” she said.

  But Kyla didn’t have an answer, couldn’t find one. So she invited the mists to swallow Cora completely, sending her wherever dreams took her.

  As Cora vanished, Kyla collapsed on the beach, crying and shaking. She resolved herself to uselessness, reminded herself there could be no wrong choices if she relinquished control.

  And once she was out of tears, she collapsed on the beach. Kyla prepared herself for a lifetime of vague awareness, convincing herself that it was exactly what she deserved.

  Chapter Thirteen:

  Of Thorns and Gardens

  A thud resonated through the apartment.

  Cora shook herself awake. Her dreams had been nightmarish since Kyla had pushed her away. There had been windy storms, waves that she couldn’t navigate. She’d been tossed and turned, pushed by powers beyond her control.

  Regardless, Kyla had been there, even if she was upset…

  —thunk—

  The sound came from the door. She snapped her head up and saw Davit was already in the kitchenette, drumming his fingers anxiously against the table.

  Someone pulled her arm. Maestro. He led her deeper into the room, and they followed Sarina into the bathing room. Maestro closed the door, shutting the three of them inside.

  “I’ve got it!” Davit cried as the door sounded a third time. “Give me a moment.”

  Cora stilled her breathing, quieting herself as quickly as she could. Moments later, through the thin door, she heard the sound of Davit lifting a plank and opening the front door.

  “Queen’s guards,” someone with a gravelly voice announced. “We’re here for the traitors.”

  “They’re in the bathing room.” Davit said it without hesitation.

  “Davit?” Maestro whispered, stunned. “They knew where to come.”

  “Hell no,” Sarina pushed the door open, swimming into the main room. Before Cora could decide what to do, a staccato of shrieks sounded—Sarina’s deathbreath.

  Then, silence.

  Maestro swam through the door, and Cora crept behind him. Sarina lay at the center of the room, collapsed upon the couch. Her hair was entirely grayed, even whi
te in places, and her fin had more dull scales than it did salmon.

  Yet, around her were four of the Queen’s Guards. They drifted in the water, injury-free yet completely still. Davit hovered, awkward in the kitchen.

  Maestro swam to the hallway. “It’s empty,” he said, closing the door. He turned to Davit.

  The two mermen stared at each other, and Cora recalled how quickly Maestro had incapacitated Triton. Yet Davit was trained as a guard while Triton was not.

  Neither seemed eager to move first.

  “Are you okay?” Cora asked Sarina. She brushed her fingers against the mermaid’s forearm, comforting her as she’d done for mers in her pod. The touch was instinctive, and only afterwards did she realize she may have been too familiar.

  Yet Sarina didn’t pull away. Instead, she grabbed Cora’s shoulder and used it to press herself to her fin. She wrapped one of her arms around Cora, leaning against her for support, and pointed her other hand at Davit.

  “You traitor,” Sarina roared, her voice crackling and horrific. “I trusted you! Maestro—the whole choir—needed you. You talked about caring for mortals, but in the end, you only serve yourself!”

  “Sarina, listen,” Davit began to talk fast, “I did this for the choir, I swear.”

  Sarina began the sharp exhale of breath.

  “Stop!” Maestro shouted. “You’ll kill yourself if you try that again.”

  Sarina’s body shuddered and finally relaxed. She inhaled normally without finishing her curse. “Fine. He lives, for now.” She fell back to the couch.

  “You did it for the choir?” Maestro asked. “Explain.”

  Davit nodded. “They…suspected me. When I was in the kitchens searching for extra food, someone thought I was acting suspiciously. They told the investigators and… They brought me before Queen Mari where—Maestro, forgive me—I couldn’t lie to her. I swear I tried, but…”

  Maestro put up his hand. “I developed her special glamour. If you could’ve resisted, you would’ve been one of a few.”

  “They helped me set up this trap, and planned to take you away in the dead of night. They said if I agreed, I’d become the new Maestro, and I’d be in a position to protect the choir. I promised you I’d protect them…so I thought…I did it.”

  “Great power move,” Sarina mumbled.

  “…I did it for the choir,” Davit continued lamely.

  “Davit, I’m going to have to incapacitate you,” Maestro said.

  “But—” Davit looked to the guards. “—maybe I can come with you.”

  “No.” Maestro surged forward.

  He struck Davit on his lower spine, and when Davit managed a weak pass at Maestro’s face, Maestro pinched him at the neck. Davit fainted.

  “You should kill him,” Sarina complained. “We would’ve been dead if he’d succeeded.”

  “No.” Maestro swam away from Davit’s limp body. “I still want him to care for the choir.”

  “Fine.”

  “But we need to go now,” Maestro said. “At some point, someone will wonder why the guards haven’t returned with their prisoners. Since it is the dead of night, now might be our best chance to leave.”

  “But where will we go?” Cora asked. “Without Davit we won’t have the carriage—”

  “The palace gardens,” Maestro said. “They’re not far and many passageways meet there. We should be able to hide…for a time at least.” He grabbed a satchel from those he’d prepared.

  “The palace gardens?” Cora asked. There was a children’s song about it. She opened her mouth to sing—

  “Quiet.” Sarina elbowed her.

  Cora obeyed. This wasn’t the time for songs, after all. That’s why she needed Kyla—she was the serious one. If only Kyla understood how badly Cora needed her…

  Maestro extended his hand to Sarina. “Can you swim?”

  “Obviously I can.” She let him help her to her fin and then swam for the door. Her movement was awkward and tired. She stopped at the door and turned to them. “Apparently, I’m a touch slow.”

  Maestro huffed. “This wouldn’t have happened if you stopped using the curse.”

  “But what happens if I stop?” Sarina pressed. “Maestro, you only attack if you have too. Who will protect us if I don’t?”

  He didn’t give her a response but lifted her arm, wrapping it around his shoulder so that he might help her swim.

  “I’ll protect us,” Cora said. The words surprised her as much as they did Sarina. But she nodded, confirming it. “I’ll cast the curse so Sarina won’t have to.”

  Maestro’s displeased expression didn’t change, but it rarely did. He turned to open the door.

  Cora took one final look around the room. She was missing something…

  Sarina’s pouch of physic lay abandoned on the couch. Cora picked it up and took a moment to admire its heft. They would need this if they escaped. She wrapped it around her waist and followed Maestro and Sarina into the hallway.

  Maestro took them up another floor to the mortal’s apartments. They weren’t empty, but at least it was poorly lit. Maestro assumed a posture of easy, happy swimming. He hummed a simple tune. He led Sarina cautiously, as if she was injured. Cora swam in his wake, working to mimic his easygoing disposition.

  They passed an immortal servant, and he spared a glance at them. His gaze lingered a moment on Sarina, but he trained them forward and away.

  “Queen’s blessings,” Cora sung absently.

  He grunted his reply.

  They passed several more mortals as they swam, but they smiled and continued on their way.

  Cora comforted herself as she swam. She didn’t feel safe. Safety seemed like an idea of the past, from her days with the pod. She’d last felt safe with the pod, before she’d taken physic, back then she’d been hapless and happy.

  But the fact that she was able to swim down this hallway didn’t make her feel brave either. She was no sea lion, eager to turn and spin with the waves. Instead, she felt out of control with water whirling about her. She was dangerously lost, playing a game with rules that she’d never learned.

  Her reality was wild and she had to become flexible—it was either that or break, snapping under the duress.

  Yet she’d felt something different when she told Sarina she would protect them. Perhaps it was the semblance of control. Maybe those words had been make-believe. Cora didn’t know if she could actually cast deathbreath but having responsibility gave her a sense of value.

  Maestro took another turn. Cora hoped they’d reach their destination soon. She was worried they’d pass another immortal, one who’d would recognize them and sound an alarm. Yet they kept swimming.

  Cora recalled her dream, how Kyla had rejected her. It was vague, but there were some moments of it she might have remembered correctly.

  She reminded herself that the most important thing was that Kyla was real. Cora should have been content with that knowledge.

  Yet she knew Kyla had shoved her away.

  Cora searched her memories, recalling the moment when Kyla’s eyes had grown dark. Her spoken words, I can’t, echoed in her mind. Kyla had said Cora would be better off without her…but Cora still didn’t know why.

  Kyla spoke of the transformation like it was her fault, that she had made some terrible mistake, but from the way Maestro spoke of the serenading spell, hadn’t she been tricked? Why did she blame herself for misfortune?

  “Kyla, it’s not your fault that we were serenaded. Triton did that,” Cora whispered to herself.

  No one replied, but Cora felt the pulsing awareness she’d identified as Kyla. It was distant, colder than usual, and still aching with self-abuse. But she’d been heard.

  “Here,” Maestro stopped before a tall garden gate. The metal of the gate had been fashioned into the shapes of flowers and leaves. Cora peeked between the gaps in the filigree.

  The chamber beyond was a gigantic garden. Pillars held a glass ceiling far above the plant-life. I
t was dark, dimmer than even the hallway, without the sun to light the sky.

  Raised garden beds covered the ground with a diverse array of flowers and vines were shaped into archways. The water was unusually warm, and it tasted of plant matter, as befitted the underwater greenhouse. Cora breathed it in, treasuring the feel of it in her sealungs.

  There were a few structures inside the garden. Most were gazebos, but one was—

  “Guards,” she whispered. There was a small structure against the far wall. She saw the shape of two, maybe three, mers within. The glint of spears and armor gave them away. A guardhouse.

  Her chest tightened with panic. She dipped low, deepening herself in the shadows.

  “It’s all right,” Maestro reached into one of his satchels and handed Cora an ostentatious necklace and Sarina a glamorous tiara. He clipped a hefty armband to his bicep and paired it with bracelets on his other wrist.

  “If we were acting as mortals before, now we’ll be young courtiers,” Maestro explained. “Our friend Sarina got a little ill while partying, and we are recovering before returning to our family-apartments. This isn’t uncommon, so the guards will most likely give us privacy, for a time at least.”

  Sarina nodded, pressing her weight into Maestro so he might help her swim. She giggled, a little silly. Then she hummed to the tune of Lily, Lilac, Lavender.

  “Perfect, just like a courtier,” Maestro told her. “Swim with your fin low. Keep its silhouette hidden in the plants, and no one will see that we’re clipped.” Then he pushed open the gate, pulling Sarina into the palace gardens.

  Cora swam behind them, careful that she mimicked the sway of Maestro’s and Sarina’s strokes. There was a whimsical nature to their soft giggles that Cora found easy to emulate.

  Sarina sang, intentionally offkey and with the occasional hiccup, “Lily, lilac, lavender seek a lending hand. Sing them a little song and help the plants grow grand.” Her voice was lovely, but she still coughed at the end.

  Cora spun, moving to the sound of Sarina’s low singing. As she frolicked, she moved so the little light that existed hit her jewels, ensuring they were seen by the guards.