The Wild Mermaid Page 2

  “It belongs to the crown.” Triton held up a small mirror. “But it’ll help you to make a good impression.” Triton handed her matching earrings, and Isain held up a small hand mirror.

  Cora donned the earrings and brushed her hair one last time. Her blond waves were far less manageable than she preferred. “Do you think the Queen will like me?”

  “It’s my deepest hope that she does. You look beautiful.”

  She blushed.

  “Isain and Janh will help you swim.”

  She nodded, collected herself, and lifted her arms toward the guards. They hoisted her, one on each side, supporting her body as she swam between them, slow and cautious. All things considered, their hold was supportive and dignified.

  “Why was I clipped?” she asked.

  “You’ve wandered from Atlantis and put yourself in danger. This is to prevent it from happening again.”

  Cora still couldn’t remember her previous time in Atlantis but felt compelled to believe him.

  Triton led her into the hallway. She had been in the dungeons—there was no doubt about it. They swam past other cell doors, and Cora wondered if they held other maimed mers.

  “Where is our pod?” Cora asked, her memory flashing with recall. Phoebe falling to the ground. Or had it all been some terrible dream?

  She tried to connect Triton, the handsome leader of her pod, to…a merman who’d stung her neck with venom? They couldn’t be the same!

  Cora swallowed, trying to take pleasure in Triton’s current attentions.

  Queen Mari’s castle was larger than legend. Triton led them up vertical hallways that traversed countless stories. He took them through corridors, each more fabulous than the last. Cora quickly lost track of their route, the knowledge drifting from her memory as quickly as it had come.

  Cora couldn’t remember being anywhere but oceans. These strange, closed-off hallways stressed her separation from the sea. She chewed her bottom lip.

  Soon they reached an ornate hall. Seaweed-beds—in five different colors!—lined the wide hallway. Bright rocklights, bold as sunlight, hung from the painted ceiling in brilliant chandeliers.

  A line of petitioners stood on their tailtips, forming a line at the side of the hall, but Triton bypassed them all. He approached two guards, dressed in the Queen’s silver and gold, that flanked the large doors. Triton spoke softly with one of the guards, his words inaudible over the chatter of waiting citizens.

  Cora struggled to take it in. A few of the petitioners stared at her, not with frustration that they’d skipped the line… They looked at her with intrigue. Maybe even excitement.

  The Queen’s guard struck the butt of his spear against the floor, and with a thump, the chatter died and the hall grew quiet. The guard opened the door and led Triton and his guards, carrying Cora, into the room beyond.

  And from that first moment, Cora knew this room. She’d sung of it in great hymns that celebrated the Atlantean queen. This was Queen Mari’s throne room. No other space could be this glorious.

  Stained glass domed over the space, refracting the light from the sun and casting rainbows over the floor. Thick pillars, some made of rocklights and others from coral, held the dome in place. A dais, as tall as Cora, imposed upon the space.

  And on that stage was the most splendid mermaid Cora had ever seen: The Queen.

  Queen Mari’s tail was golden like the sun and her hair silver like the moon. Her skin was iridescent as pearl, and her eyes as vivid as a reef. She radiated, not just like an immortal, but as a goddess.

  She rested upon a rocky throne made from vibrant coral. Fish darted in and out and around the throne, kissing her tail.

  Cora struggled not to gape. Everything was more beautiful, more magnificent than the songs—She never thought it possible.

  Whispers died as they entered the room, all gazes locked to the new arrivals. Courtiers, more ornate than the immortal petitioners in the hall, sparkled from around the room. Their necklaces and headpieces glinted with precious jewels. Many had gems mixed into their scales or weaved into their hair.

  Cora’s borrowed necklace seemed slight by comparison.

  The guard shouted, his voice tuned with authority, “Triton of Augmon, returned from migration. He is presenting Cora, an exemplary mortal from his pod.”

  Cora floated, dazed in place.

  Triton turned to her, smiled reassuringly, and began to swim toward the dais, stopping once they were before the Queen. Triton bowed, the movement deep and graceful, while the guards at Cora’s sides helped her to lower. The movement was clunky.

  She held her jaw tight and tilted her head down—she was mortal and should be reverent. Her gaze locked at the base of the throne, where the last of Queen Mari’s scales turned into fin. Silver and gold.

  “Your Majesty,” Triton began, “as is my job, I’ve traveled the oceans, serenading those mortals who might be persuaded, transforming them into mers. I am pleased to say my pod grew twenty mers strong, and its other members have already been distributed.”

  “We are pleased by your bounty and will pay you as is proper,” Queen Mari said formally and then frowned. “But—tell me—why did you bring this one here? Triton, my dear, you know how mortals disgust me.”

  Silence filled the throne room, but Triton broke it with a chuckle. “But, Your Majesty, you’ll find I outdid myself on this transformation. This mortal is better than average—most importantly, she has the voice of a soloist.”

  “Bah,” the Queen complained before Cora could bask in Triton’s complement. “You’ve said that before.”

  The court laughed.

  “Triton’s right!” Cora said. How dare they laugh at the amazing Triton! Then, realizing who she’d just spoken to, she flung her hands to her mouth, terrified.

  The Queen leaned forward in her chair, considering Cora with new interest. “Go on.”

  Cora licked her lips and cleared her throat. The need to impress the Queen, to prove Triton’s worth, drove her to practically singsong the words. “I’m the best singer in the pod.” It was uncomfortable for her to confess as a mortal had no right to pride.

  “As Your Majesty knows, I am a master of serenade,” Triton added. “I outperformed myself when I sang for Cora. She gave herself to the sea willingly and completely. Her transformation was quite successful, as proven by her singing voice. She will make for a powerful soloist.”

  The Queen settled into her throne. “Her voice and demeanor are promising, and it is time for Sarina to retire. This girl…has potential.” The Queen turned to Cora. “Sing for me.”

  Cora froze. Sing, now?

  The Queen sighed, extended her hand, and pointed a long finger at a merman in the court. “Maestro, be a dear and help her out. The third verse of The Ballad of Melusine, if you please.”

  The court chuckled, seemingly amused. They cleared from the space around Cora as the merman swam forward.

  He had to be an immortal, like all the courtiers, but he didn’t gleam as richly. Even as he retained the impressive ambience of an immortal, he was duller than the rest. Tired.

  His swimming wasn’t ugly, but it was far from graceful. And, when she looked, Cora saw that his deep blue tail, the same color as hers, was also clipped.

  The merman, Maestro, considered her. He frowned. “Do you know the third verse?”

  Cora nodded. “In which Melusine meets the immortal?”

  “Very good.” Maestro signaled a quartet of musicians in the corner, and they began to play.

  Cora didn’t feel ready for an audition. Regardless, the music progressed, and it was time to sing or stay silent. She sang.

  When mortal Melusine fled the mortal realm

  the moon heard her cry

  and piteously guided her helm

  toward the ancient Gates of Atlantis.

  Maestro, the Queen, and even the throne room faded, and all Cora knew was the sound of her own voice. The long, sad notes felt like honey on her vocal cords, self-soo
thing her wounds.

  As Cora finished the stanza, she looked up, not to the Queen or even Triton, but toward Maestro. Maestro began to grin, stopped himself, and waved for the musicians to continue. He took the second verse upon himself and sang aloud.

  The immortal’s heart filled with pity

  from the moment he saw Melusine.

  Thus, he carried her into the city

  ignoring the warnings.

  His voice was as tender as a kitten but with the undercurrents of a lion. And when he was done, he motioned for her to join him for the third and final stanza.

  She listened as she sang, feeling Maestro’s voice against hers. They modulated their tones until the song grew in harmony.

  Yet for a time, love was enough

  for Melusine and her immortal.

  They sang the final syllable together, allowing its sound to resonate.

  Silence.

  Then a few claps echoed in the throne room—Queen Mari was pleased!—and as if released from a spell, the court joined her in applause.

  Cora grinned and looked to Maestro, trying to thank him with her eyes. He was an excellent duet partner.

  “Well done,” the Queen said once the clapping died down. She spoke more to Triton than to Cora or Maestro.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.” Triton bowed his head.

  The Queen swam from her dais, darting until she was inches from Cora. She lifted Cora’s chin, her grip firm and flesh cold, and turned Cora’s face from side to side, appraising her.

  Finally, she turned to Triton and smiled. “We are pleased.”

  Triton’s stature lowered as he relaxed, and that made Cora happy. She’d done well. The Queen was pleased, and Triton was glad.

  The Queen motioned to Maestro. “Take her, prepare her, give her physic. I would have a recital in three days’ time.”

  “Three—days?” Maestro asked. “Your Majesty, if you’d excuse me.” She turned to him with a snap, but Maestro didn’t back down. “She needs a week. Last time we tried five days, the soloist didn’t make it through the night of the recital! Surely you remember.”

  “Certainly, I remember,” she snapped. Then the Queen’s tone changed, turning soft like a coo. She shifted her body against him, almost like a lover, and pressed her hand into his chest. “Maestro, my dear, you’ve grown dull.”

  Maestro didn’t budge; his severe expression didn’t waver.

  “Once you were the brightest mer in this court.” The Queen laughed. “Now how long has it been since you dishonored us? Centuries, isn’t it? I have grown weary of you hiding in the shadows. Prove that your magnificence has returned. You have three days.” She didn’t need to say or else.

  “In good conscience, I can’t advise—” Maestro protested.

  Queen Mari lifted her hand. “I remember a time when you boasted that this could be done, begging me to give you enough mortals to prove it was possible. You were ambitious back then, and I need to know that is still who you are. Prove yourself and be rewarded.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Fail, and you’ll be retired.”

  Maestro swallowed.

  “Very well. Now take her out of my sight.” Queen Mari turned away and swam for her dais.

  Maestro furrowed his brow but motioned to the guards at Cora’s arms. “This way,” he said, leading them toward a smaller door at the side of the room.

  Cora followed, but even as she allowed herself to be led away, she turned to look at Triton. He stayed behind and didn’t glance at her.

  Regardless, she clung to her final glimpse of him.

  Chapter Three:

  Revival

  Even with the help of the guards, Cora struggled to keep swimming. But despite her performance for Queen Mari sapping the last of her strength, she was proud. She had impressed the Queen, and Triton had been pleased.

  “The choir room isn’t far from here,” Maestro said. “You’ll be able to rest once we reach it.”

  Cora nodded, impressed how easily Maestro seemed to move with his own clipped fin. The guards were practically carrying her by now. But if Maestro could learn to swim like that, maybe with time, she could do the same.

  Finally, they came to a set of large doors protected by a Queen’s guard. He had a ruby red fin and stood with alertness, making Cora wonder what sort of treasure the room might hold.

  “Davit,” Maestro addressed the guard. “Meet Cora, our new soloist.”

  Davit nodded with acknowledgment and opened the door without speaking. Maestro turned to Isain and Janh. “We’ll need to revive her. Please help Cora to the center of the round.”

  The chamber beyond was neither ornate or even that bright compared to the throne room, but it was cozy, reminding Cora of a cave. She saw no windows, no way to reach the ocean, but the water tasted fresh, and she could see that small fish played in the dull coral lining the walls.

  The room was semi-circular and descended toward a tiny stage, the center of the round. Tables and lounging rocks filled the highest levels, and by peeking at the back, Cora could see a second room, a large sleeping den.

  About thirty mortal mers resided within the room. Some worked or ate at the tables, while others lounged. Several stirred from the resting chamber to look at her.

  These rooms were more than a choir room—it was a community. A pod.

  Maybe she could feel safe here. Tears formed behind her eyes, and her head grew light.

  “Phoebe!” Cora cried, recognizing one of the mers.

  Phoebe lifted a hand in welcome but didn’t swim forward to greet Cora. Her fin had been clipped as well, and she lingered with the merman who had been talking to her.

  Triton’s guards brought Cora forward and helped carry her down to the center stage. They lowered her to the ground and released her, untangling their arms from hers. Finally, she could stop swimming.

  Cora leaned her back against the wall. She looked up to find Maestro and this strange pod staring down at her.

  Overwhelmed, she pulled her tail to her chest, allowing her eyes to glaze over. She didn’t have to move anymore. That was enough.

  The guards left the room, leaving Maestro as the only immortal in the chamber. “We have a new soloist, Cora,” he announced.

  Nearly all the mers bobbed their heads along to his words, agreeing to do as Maestro needed. Cora found herself nodding as well, the motion reminding her how her former pod had treated Triton.

  One mermaid didn’t move with the others. Instead, she gasped, the sound ugly and scratchy. She raced forward to confront Maestro.

  Maestro sighed. “Sarina, please don’t complicate this.”

  She leapt to her tailtip, hot with protest. Her muscles tensed with rage. She was beautiful, even as she was angry, and Cora admired the salmon color of her tail. Shame it was clipped.

  “I will not be retired!” Her voice alternated between melodic and grating.

  “I’ll do what I can to make it…humane. But if I’m going to have any power over that, I need your cooperation.”

  She sniffed but lowered herself in the water.

  “Queen Mari wants Cora’s debut in three days. She threatened my retirement if I failed.”

  Sarina’s lips grew thin. “Three days?” She turned to look at Cora and frowned. “She just got here! Look at her. She needs to recover.”

  “Agreed, but—”

  “And you’ll want me to help train her?”

  “That would be very helpful of you.”

  “Not much in it for me.” Sarina huffed.

  “I can give you a kind retirement,” Maestro said. “I’ve always tried to promise you that. But I can’t do that for you if the Queen makes me retire first.”

  She sighed, shaking her head. “But how are we going to do it in three days?”

  “Pray she’s a natural.”

  Sarina tutted. “Well, then—I’m glad that the quality of my retirement depends on luck. Asher have mercy on us.”

  “Ashe
r have mercy on us,” Maestro agreed. “But first things first, it’s time for a revival. Places, everyone!”

  The other mers, who’d all observed without opinion, began shifting again. They descended into the tiers surrounding the small stage, standing on the steps above Cora’s central landing.

  Maestro and Sarina descended as well, swimming over the others to join Cora on the small stage. Maestro stood in the front, where all the choir could see him, while Sarina took center stage.

  She looked back at Cora, still pressed against the wall, and sighed. “I need you next to me. Come on. Tell me you can swim this far.”

  Cora stumbled, practically falling to cross the few feet between them. “What’s happening?”

  Sarina huffed. “Patience, little fry. Now, I need you—here.” She pushed Cora up a few more inches and pulled her from the armpits to make her sit tall. “Stay just like that.”

  “Okay…”

  Sarina positioned herself behind Cora, pressing her hands into Cora’s shoulders. Cora looked up to see that the other mers were shifting on their fins, having filled the risers completely. The trilling of musical warmups filled the air.

  The chaotic sound made Cora feel nauseous, and she wondered if she might pass out. She wavered.

  Sarina pinched her neck. “You’ll need to be stronger than that to see this through.” A sigh. “Don’t resist, let the magic work.”

  Cora nodded along, and Maestro turned around, checking on the two of them.

  “We’re ready,” Sarina told him.

  He raised his arms, and the choir grew quiet. Then with a long inhale, he signaled for the song to start.

  Haunting notes, low like a hum, began to resonate within the room. Maestro rose his hands higher, and the sound grew louder.

  Harmonies grew, and a vague, slow melody began. Cora tried to find words within the song but discovered that there was no language for the exposed notes to hide behind.

  The intensity of the sound continued to build, growing in resonance and power, oscillating the very water surrounding her. Energy focused on Cora and Sarina at center stage.

  The sensation kept expanding, becoming overwhelming, overbearing. Raw power surrounded her, begging her to take it, but Cora knew no way in which to collect it.