The Mermaids Madness

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

    Douglas Adams once said, “I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.”
    What Adams neglected to mention was the chilling silence that precedes those deadlines. Calm-before-the-storm silence. Cheerleader-in-a-dark-basement-with-the-serial-killer silence. The kind of silence whose only purpose in this world is to give you a few moments to contemplate the horrors preparing to devour you.
    At least, that’s what it felt like back in July of ’08, as I scrambled to finish the fifth rewrite of this book. Mere words cannot express my gratitude toward my wife and children, who put up with me during this time, and enabled me to actually make that deadline. Living with a writer is never easy, and they have been far more patient, understanding, and forgiving than I have any right to expect.
    Thanks also to my agent Joshua Bilmes and my editor Sheila Gilbert, both of whom reassured me that the world would not in fact come to an end if I was late turning in my manuscript. That’s very good to know, especially as I look ahead to my deadline for Red Hood’s Revenge .
    I should also single out Diana Francis Pharaoh, author of the Crosspointe Chronicles series, for her assistance. I knew any book about mermaids would have to take place at sea, but my knowledge of sailing was rather limited. Thank you, Di, for rescuing me from a number of embarrassing mistakes. (At this point, it’s traditional for the author to mention that any remaining mistakes are entirely his or her own, but I think I’m going to blame any goofs on the goblins.)
    Thank you, Josh, Debra, Marsha, and everyone else at DAW who helped bring this series into the world. Special thanks to Scott Fischer, whose cover art still blows my mind.
    Most importantly, my thanks to you, the reader.Thank you for buying the books, for reading the stories, and for sharing them with your friends and family. Thank you for your wonderfully kind letters and e-mails, and thank you for allowing me to continue doing the most awesome job in the world.

CHAPTER 1

    P RINCESS DANIELLE WHITESHORE OF LORINDAR clung to the rail at the front of the ship, staring out at the waves. If this wind kept up, she might become the first princess in history to welcome the undine back from their winter migration by vomiting into their waters. The weather had been mild for most of the morning, but the skies had changed as the sun passed its peak. It was as if the sea now took a perverse glee in tormenting her.
    “Drink this.” Queen Beatrice’s voice was sympathetic as she climbed up from the main deck, holding a steaming tin mug. She pressed the mug into Danielle’s hand. “Tea laced with honey, just the way you like it.”
    The queen had discarded the royal gowns of court for clothes that bordered on improper. With her dark blue breeches and loose, pale shirt, she could almost have passed for a sailor. A worn blue flat cap covered her hair, save for a few wisps that fluttered by her ear like tiny gray banners. Only her long jacket, decorated with white ribbon and trimmed in gold, marked her as royalty. That and the silver necklace she wore, which held a black pearl the size of Danielle’s thumbnail.
    Anyone could see the queen’s delight at being out to sea. If not for the rules of propriety, Danielle had no doubt Beatrice would right now be climbing the rigging with the crew or manning the crow’s nest to watch for merfolk.
    For undine , she corrected herself. That was what they preferred to be called.
    Casual as Beatrice’s attire was, she looked far more comfortable than Danielle. Danielle’s handmaids had packed for her, and they apparently had as little experience at sea as Danielle herself. The heavy cloak and cream-colored gown might have been acceptable for a casual day back at the palace. Here on the ship, she was constantly struggling to avoid tripping over her own skirt. Spray from the waves clung like tiny glass beads to the purple velvet of her cloak. She was tempted to ask permission to raid the queen’s wardrobe.
    For the moment, she merely sipped her tea and did her best to keep from throwing up. The honey wasn’t enough to mask the more pungent taste of ginger and other spices.
    “Too strong?” asked Beatrice.
    “Not at all.” Danielle forced herself to take another drink. She had grown spoiled over the past year. Living with her stepmother and stepsisters, she had been lucky to brew the occasional cup of lukewarm tea