“Rude. I am not your anything.”
He snorts, blowing tiny bubbles into the water. So cool. But also bad news for the gassy folks. No silent sneaky smells of death here. Everyone understood you were the culprit. I’d need to remember that.
I take a hot tempo, but I’m soon floof fish free and upright. It is a good diurnal if we discount the whole being lured by an evil lake lady and almost drowning.
“I am the keeper,” the merman says, puffing out his chest. Oh, cool. That pocket watch is actually a turn glass, filled with sand to mark the passage of time. I want one. Is it in the welcome to the water dwellers’ pack?
I give him a little wave. “Hey, I’m Daphne.”
He huffs. “I’m aware.”
Oh Idols, theyhaveheard of me. Could it be just the good things? “What do you know?”
He points at the golden arch above the door, and I find my name etched into the metal. Wow. I never dreamed I’d be immortalized—except on my tombstone—and I’m constantly updating what I want on it every diurnal, or multiple times a diurnal, now that I mention it.
“So, is this my destiny?” It beats clumsy maiden, but doesn’t make up for the lost sister and four brothers who hold my heart. The rest of the realm can suck my butt. Apart from the mirror man, genie, and my capons.
The merman rolls his eyes. “No, it updates automatically whenever a new Lady of the Lake is chosen.”
“Chosen is a stretch; fooled is more accurate. Do I call you keeper or...”
“Frank.”
My mind sparks. “Your previous Lady told me to pass on the message that you still owe her, and she’ll be back to collect.”
He straightens his already neat waistcoat and huffs. “She forwent that privilege when she exited the water. Only current water dwellers can collect debts.”
“Good for you. You tell that bitch. Unless we can get her to swap back?”
He shoots me a withering look. Right. Not stupid.
“What does a keeper do?” If I could unravel the workings of this place, I could discover a way out and rejoin my sister and knights.
“I keep Lady of the Lake’s dwelling in order. I ensure the lineage is up to date, and I’m your official guide to your new life.”
Awesome—my sword came with a guide. That’s far more than I’ve ever had before. “So you keep me from creating chaos?”
He blinks, and I notice his eyelashes are silver. Pretty. “Is that a concern?”
I shrug. “Depends on how many objects get in my way.” Who am I kidding? I don’t need objects to find craziness in any situation.
He tilts his head and sighs. “Let’s get you and the sword inside.”
I wave my hand at the sharp, amused object. Definitely laughing at me. I can feel it. “Have at it.”
Frank shakes his head. “Only the Lady can touch the sword until she releases it to a knight worthy of her life.”
Oh, that makes sense. It must be difficult finding a worthy knight. They would have to be truly spectacular to give up one’s life for. I actually know four of them, but I doubt previous generations would have been as amazing as my knights. Their pretty green eyes, smart humor, and golden muscles—which I could trace with my fingers for annuses—enthralled me.
Frank snaps his fingers in front of my eyes. “Daphne, pick up the sword and follow me into the house.” Right, no dreaming of the Stirlings. “When will I learn?” Frank mutters. “Better theMedusa you know. I’ve swapped a snarky bitch for a clumsy, clueless female.”
It’s not like I applied for the role, and he isn’t the first to curse the Idols because of my presence. I would happily swap with any other female to his liking. But for now, we are stuck. I grab the sword and jog in slow motion up the stairs and into the house. Phew, that was a workout. I need a snack now.
Within the whimsical realm of this submerged sanctuary, an underwater reverie unfolds—a lesson in hyperrealism that dances between the absurd and the sublime. The entryway opens into a vast great room, strategically divided into sections through strategic furniture placement.
A sofa, so lush and inviting it appears plucked from the dreams of mermaids, should surely squelch, yet it beckons with a plushness sure to cushion the heaviest of asses. The kitchen sprawls before me, resembling an aquatic wonderland, where pots and pans stubbornly cling to their surfaces like loyal marine sentinels.
I clasp a plate, twisting it, marveling at its tangible defiance. “It’s not glued,” I muse with disbelief.
