The heavy doors swung open, and Grimsby stepped inside, his expression grave. “The delegation from your father has finally arrived, Your Majesty. They are waiting in the grand hall.”
“The… delegation?” Ursula echoed, keeping her voice light, careful. "From my father, you say?"
“Yes,” Grimsby said, looking weary. “Your father's emissary, Sebastian, is eager to see you.”
Of course, he would be here. Her father’s ever-loyal lapcrab, the one who had watched over Ariel since the day she was born. Sebastian would take one look at Ursula, and he would know.
“How wonderful,” she said smoothly, though her nails dug into the fabric of her dress. “I’ll be along shortly—I just need a moment to prepare.”
She turned before Grimsby could argue, gliding out of the room, pulse thrumming in her throat. She had to think.
She could face Sebastian as herself. She was queen now. But she was Queen of the Coast, not of the sea.
She could make a dash for it. Head back to the docks. And what? Slink back to Flotsam and Jetsam? No, she was not going back to that tide.
Not when Eric was building her an indoor pool filled with sea water.
Not when Eric would be waiting for her each night with salt in hand to rub her tired legs and delight when they turned into a fin.
Not when Eric took her hand whenever he was near her and did the sexiest thing any male had ever done for her by giving her his ear. And listening to her.
Ursula had to admit it; the man was a prize. One that she had earned. One that she would not be giving up.
She was near the back entrance of the castle, where servants came and went. Ursula turned on her heel, ready to ascend the stairs to her husband. She would tell him the truth. He wouldn't turn her away. He'd said he wouldn't when she'd semi-confessed. He might be angry, but he’d promised he would stand by her. There was a silly part of her—a big, shining, silly part—that believed him.
As she stepped a toe onto the first stair, a door behind her opened. A hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Ursula turned, preparing to give the audacious servant a tongue lashing.
The words caught in her throat. Her eyes wentwide. Her mouth went slack. Because she was looking at herself in the mirror.
"Ariel?"
The girl looked nothing like the pampered sea princess she'd once mocked. Her red hair was a knotted mess, wild as seaweed in a storm. Her gown was torn, streaked with mud and soot. There was a desperation in her that Ursula had never seen.
“What—” Ursula began.
Ariel clapped a trembling hand over her mouth. She shook her head violently and pointed.
Ursula followed the gesture to a heap in the far corner of the closet. A body. A woman. Blond hair matted with blood. Pale limbs curled protectively. There was a rough bandage tied around her head, soaked dark over her ear.
Aurora.
Ursula stepped into the closet. Ariel shut the door and began waving her hands in the sign language she spoke out of the sea.They’re hunting us. The Forest Folk. Maleficent’s guard. We tried to kill her. And Phillip.
This bit had not been in Grimsby’s report.
I couldn’t marry Eric, Ariel said with her hands. One of those hands found Aurora’s, lacing their fingers together tightly.We love each other.
Ursula decided the best course for the moment wasto play dumb. "The two of you? I thought you were just friends. You should go to your father and?—"
He’d chain me to a rock in the Mariana Trench before he let me shame the kingdom, her niece signed.
Ursula crossed her arms. “So what do you want from me?”
Ariel squared her shoulders, that old royal fire rekindling.Money. Safe passage. We need to get to the Frost Kingdom.
“And if I say no?” Ursula asked coolly.
Then I’ll tell Eric who you really are, since you're pretending to be me.
