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“The tides shift for the moon, so why can’t we?” I ask, citing a line of ancient text carved into the cella’s walls.
“Because the Order of the Undine made that their mission, and now they’re extinct,” she says. “Walking amongst men is more dangerous than you can understand.”
“And yet, I’m expected to marry a human.”
“That’s different,” she says. “Your father will not grant you a human body until you’ve made a match that can provide the level of protection required for your station.”
The human body he grants me will be created by his trident. There will be no choice in the shift. I can’t choose to move between the land and the ocean unless I undergo divine transformation. “He means to trap me on land for the duration of my spouse’s lifespan.”
“And once the union comes to its natural end, you may return to us, safe beneath the ocean.” Her Ocean Voice warbles; she doesn’t even believe what she’s saying.
I used to question how my father intended for me to build a life on land and return to his kingdom as if nothing ever happened. Now I understand that was never part of his plan.
I suspect I won’t see the water again until my life is drained for a throne in a place I’ve never known, and my body is sent out to float in a burial shroud. “You know it won’t be that easy.”
“Then you will be celebrated for the sacrifices you made for the good of the sea.”
I would’ve loved to hear those words when I was young and desperate to fill the void left by my mother’s death. My grandmother was stingy with her approval, but I wanted it.
I tried to make myself more like my sisters, happy to flow with the shifting currents. Sweet and obedient. I floundered for her attention before I found my own purpose.
“I don’t think you really want that for me,” I say. “And I think you love me enough not to stop me.”
“One day you’ll understand that I have to because I love you.”
I look out the window as she raises her claws, signaling to her shark companions. She must be bluffing. The sharks are her vicious protectors. They’ll hunt down anyone she tells them to with feral determination.
My grandmother and I often butt heads, but she’s the mermaid who searched relentlessly to find me after I was caught in the same storm that killed my mother. When my father rejected me, she took me in and forced him to recognize me as the youngest princess.
She would never hurt me.
“Chase the princess back into neutral waters, and see that she’s taken to her father,” she commands them, breaking my last delicate shell of trust. “Her guardian has been feeding false reports to King Morrow and needs to be punished accordingly.”
Oh Goddess. Zephyr.
They’re the only reason I’ve been able to continue working in secrecy. They’ve never once mentioned my studies in the temple, choosing to make up stories about harmless infractions whenever we’ve been summoned by the King for questioning.
I don’t want to imagine what will happen to them when he finds out what we’ve been doing. The sharks don’t give me any time to consider the awful possibilities. They rush through the window, and I propel myself backward, pumping my tail with my arms above my head to get away from them.
Familiar energy streamlines down my body as Zephyr manifests as an essence in the current.
“Don’t let them catch you,” they say. “They’re fast, but you’re clever. Outsmart them.”
I will. I won’t let them be taken.
Envisioning the layout of the building, I corkscrew between columns and cut sharp turns around hall entrances without watching where I’m going. The sharks stay close on my tail as I lead them around the labyrinth, the margin of distance between us only growing by mere inches.
“There has to be a way to shake them off,” Zephyr coaches. “Think fast.”
Easier said than done.
My fin is getting heavy, the water thickening with every stroke. I can’t get away. My pursuers manage to scent me in every hidden cranny, and I’m fighting to stay ahead of them.
I tuck behind a pillar at a chamber’s entrance to draw air through my gills and notice a thread of fading moonlight weaving around my emerald scales. I follow the beam across the enclosed shrine, tracing it back to a gap between two shelves where a piece of the wall is missing. It’s hard to judge the size of the hole from here, but there’s less than a span of a heartbeat left to make a decision.
I hurdle towards it as the sharks enter the shrine, their fins paddling recklessly and throwing items from their shelves. They’re undoing years of careful research and hard work in a matter of seconds, but I can’t think about that right now.
I have to get out.
