“I’m sorry, am I boring you or something?”
She shrugged, not a care in the world in those loose shoulders. “Just doing my job.”
“Isn’t your job at the hostel?”
She sighed. “That’s more of a side hustle.”
“Fine. What are you doing now?”
“Getting you to the Queen of the Huldufólk.” Another dodgy answer out of her. A yawn.
Sharp pain radiated from my thumb, and a drop of blood smeared my pointer. I hadn’t even realized I’d been picking at the dry skin around my nails. “What exactly is she going to do with me?”
“Who knows?” Freyja finally opened her eyes, a fiendish grin parting her cheeks. “Feed you to Helgustaðir’s spar dragon? Or deliver you to the trolls? Perhaps lock you in the dungeons beneath the castle?—”
“That’s…” Panic scraped my insides, clawing up my throat. “That’s enough.”
“Sometimes at night I can still hear the screams of the last prisoner she took.” Elbows resting on her knees, she leaned forward. “Such a terrible fate…”
“Stop!” The force of my shout reverberated across the water, splitting off a chunk of an iceberg, violently rocking the boat.
The motion underfoot flung me to the side. I grasped the railing before I could fly overboard, my knuckles white.
“Impressive.” Freyja’s words were steady, but her arms were out, palms flat against the bench.
Behind me, Gunnar’s mouth hung open in similar shock.
“Sorry, I—” I started to say, but the words died on my lips.
Two of the most unusual beings I’d ever seen shot out of the water onto a floating sheet of ice. At first, I thought they were seals. But their movements were so deliberate, so artful—winking giant black eyes, webbed hands combing their stringy hair, the most godawful voices cooing a tuneless song. I lifted my hands to cover my ears.
A slight shake of the head, so minor it could have been passed off as a tic, was all that Freyja did to signal for me to keep my hands where they were.
Gunnar stood, sweeping into a bow. “Beautiful day it is, ladies.”
Screechy giggles tore into my eardrums, and it took every little muscle not to flinch. Freyja shot them a brilliant smile, waving and covering her heart as if she was addressing the queen and not—mermaids, I realized.
“Indeeed,” one sang, slapping her fish tail against the frozen surface.
The other fanned herself, as if she were moments away from fainting, delicate but deadly claws whizzing through the air. The edges of her tail were still submerged. Under the water, it glistened like a vibrant coral, the dusty pink scales shimmering with her titters.
Adjusting her spotted body, she slid off the ice with hardly a splash. I held in my breath as a line of bubbles drifted closer to the boat. To us. The elves were still fawning, still smiling, unbaffled. Guess I was alone in that.
My forced grin slipped when fingers—human fingers—clasped the rail. But they quickly changed, turning green and slimy. Turning webbed.
Long, ruby locks swayed like strands of algae in the current, the mermaid’s head splashing through the surface with one graceful bob, water dripping over her porcelain skin.
It wasn’t long before the delicate freckles, the rust-colored gaze, the sweet pearly smile, turned rigid and splotchy and amphibian. Her ears disappeared completely, nose flattening to a couple of mere slits.
Whiskers lengthening, she fixed her gaze on Gunnar, her enlarged pupils rimmed with a faint trace of her human irises, but soon those were lost to her seal form, too.
Oddly, she held up a fork. The bent metal reflected in the light as she waved it in the air like it were as dainty as a silk handkerchief.
Gunnar plucked it from her hand, then took her webbed fingers in his, the clear mucous coating of her skin glistening like dew as he brought them up to his lips.
A giggle scraped her throat. I fought to hold in a gag.
My eyes watered, the corners of my mouth dragging down at the strong scent of fish that coated the air. Freyja kicked my ankle, her smile so sharp it could cut throats. A warning to not break the façade. I sat up a little higher, willing the bile to stay in my stomach.
