In the brief lull of their conversation, nervousness set in. He was silent as he gave her a once-over—a thrice-over, really—scanning the length of her body from shining black shark’s tail to the braided pineapple piled atop her head.
Ah,she remembered.The hair’s probably the giveaway.
She began to fidget.
“Well, friend?” she ventured, dipping her head into his line of sight to draw his eyes back to hers. “How about it? Is she in?”
He blinked, startled, as if she’d just spoken for the first time. “Wait here,” he grunted in a gruff baritone, sparkling, serrated teeth crisp on thetinwait.
“Of course,” she agreed and watched as he disappeared into the abalone mirage of a hallway behind him.
She remained hovering about the entrance, mindful of the prying eyes pinging off the back of her head. Whispers here manifested in garbled squeaks only coherent to their intended recipients. Yemi’s pulse began to race, and each breath became a deep and anxious one as the voices grew louder.
What if this turned unfriendly? She had no real power here. What did the Mer do to those not welcome? What if she was returned to a deserted beach as only a torso and most of an arm?
She tightened her grip on her spear as the squeaking reached a fever pitch in her ears, prepared to turn and brandish it at whoever needed warning to keep away from her, when the guard appeared in the hallway again. He was followed by a smaller merwoman, older with a severe countenance, the humanoid bits of her tan and the fish bits an iridescent white with great blobs of orange reminiscent of the carp in Yemi’s palace gardens.
“Minevra,” she said curtly, extending a hand. “Her Majesty’s steward. You are of… some relation?”
“Yes,” Yemi replied.A queen in my own right as well, but sure,she didn’t add. She shook Minevra’s hand hesitantly, still not used to being touched.
“The queen is occupied. But she’s offered you chambers where you’re permitted to wait until she has a free moment.”
Yemi maintained careful control over her face, not wanting to convey the mounting aggravation beginning to roil in her gut. “And when might that be?” she asked with all the sweetness she could muster.
“At Her Majesty’s whim.” Minevra took Yemi in with giant, alien eyes, impossible to read.
“Naturally,” Yemi muttered. Another face emerged from around the corner in the hallway behind Minevra, black with a blob of white up the side of its head. It ducked away as Yemi squinted in its direction.
Hmm.
“Alright, then. Lead the way.”
Minevra nodded to the spear still clutched tightly in Yemi’s fist. “Your weapon. You will not be permitted to take it inside. Turn it over to Horus. He will see it secured, and you may have it back whenever you leave the grounds.”
Yemi winced. The idea of relinquishing her only means of defense in a place so foreign, so potentially hostile, was a painful one. She studied the guard. He had a brutish build and the kind of emptiness behind his eyes that said he was good at obeying but had no more complex instinct she could appeal to, should things go sideways later.
“This is Horus?” she asked.
“It is,” said Minevra.
Yemi bit her lip, looking from him to her. “I’d rather not.”
Minevra gave a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sure. And yet,” she said, blinking patiently. There was deference there in her manner, but not subservience. Like Orie, she wielded at least some power. Only Minevra’s felt more threatening.
Yemi scanned the coral towers quickly, searching for potential points of escape. She’d only now noticed the tiny air bubbles streaming from the coral surface as if the structure itself were breathing. Larger round holes like windows dotted the stalks at intermittent intervals. She’d find her way through one of them if she had to.
She handed over her father’s spear, keeping the key to herself. It would look like a set of decorative rings on her fingers to anyone else, and she needed to not feel completely naked. Horus placed it in a rack near the entrance alongside a dozen other less impressive ones.
Minevra nodded, satisfied. “This way.”
The halls of the Mer palace were not halls as Yemi knew them. This was a labyrinth of tubes through the hollows of the coral stalks. In lieu of framed art, every inch of the walls was etched in intricateglyphs, symbols in a language she couldn’t read. The farther upward they traveled toward the center, the brighter the walls became as sunlight permeated the carvings.
She had questions, yes, but now was not the time to ask them as she tried to keep her attention on their route, the twists and turns as they made their way deeper into the palace, so she could find her way out again. That one Mer with the orca spots appeared at different points, tailing them but doing a poor job of staying out of sight. Yemi felt she vaguely recognized them, but could not remember where or how.
“This ‘great-niece,’?” Minevra mused. “I am not familiar with that expression. In what way are you ‘great’?”
“Well, that’s the subject of some debate lately,” Yemi scoffed. “But my grandmother, Arielle, was sister to your Queen Helene. I am the daughter of Arielle’s daughter.”
