The Mermaids Madness

tugged her sword belt around so the hilt rested at a more attractive, if less practical angle. “The gem in the pommel doesn’t really match the gown,” Aimee said. “Sandra, get the ocean-blue gown with the gold—”
    “Don’t make me use this,” Danielle said, laying a hand on her sword.
    Armand smiled and offered an arm. “Are you ready?”
    Danielle’s throat went dry as it sank in. She was about to meet with a foreign prince. A prince who had the might of the Hiladi Empire behind him. A single misspoken word and history would remember Cinderella not as a filthy girl who won a prince but as a foolish princess who helped plunge Lorindar into war. “Is it all right if I throw up first?”
    He lowered his voice. “The first time my father presented me at court, I was so nervous I forgot to relieve myself beforehand. By the time I was introduced to the last baron, it was a miracle I wasn’t standing in a puddle.”
    “Are you sure you or the king wouldn’t be better off—”
    “My father has enough to worry about.”
    “Of course,” Danielle said, guilt rushing through her. “I’m sorry.”
    “I’d talk to Varisto if I could.” Armand shook his head. “His grievance is with you. I’ll be there, but you have to face him.” He led her toward the door. “He’s waiting in the courtyard, by the fountain.”
    Danielle spent the entire walk trying to plan her responses to Varisto’s accusations. He was the one who had attacked the Phillipa without warning. Her words on the docks might have been impetuous, but she refused to apologize for worrying about Beatrice.
    As they walked through the halls, Armand cleared his throat and whispered, “If you’re not going to eat that . . .” He reached toward Danielle.
    Danielle looked down at the forgotten pastry in her hand. She took another bite, then held it protectively to her chest, out of her husband’s reach. His playful grab missed, but it was enough to make her smile. She was still licking crumbs from her hand when they reached the courtyard.
    Captain Varisto was easy to spot, thanks to his red sash. He stood with Ambassador Trittibar at the fountain in the courtyard, a large circular basin resting on a square pedestal. In the center of the basin, water trickled from four figures carved from a single pillar of white stone. On one side, water dribbled from a wizard’s pipe. On another, a slender dragon breathed water from his nostrils. As Danielle approached, she could hear Trittibar explaining the fountain’s history in painful detail.
    “The figure who stands atop the pedestal is Malindar himself, who forced my people into a treaty with the humans,” Trittibar said. “This was carved nearly a hundred years ago by a gnome named Rigglesnip. It was a gift to the humans, though you can tell Rigglesnip wasn’t happy about the assignment. He made Malindar’s nose too big, and concealed extra pipes within his statue. This wasn’t discovered for several years. After a heavy enough rain, that water will spray from Malindar’s nostrils as well. Now over here we have the dragon Nolobraun, who—”
    “Prince Armand!” Varisto’s relief was plain as he hurried away from Trittibar.
    “I apologize for the interruption.” Neither Armand’s expression nor his tone betrayed his amusement. “We can come back at another time if you wish to continue your conversation.”
    “No!” Varisto stiffened and turned his attention to Danielle. “No, I have waited long enough.” His eyes took in the sword at Danielle’s side. He too was armed, carrying a spiked ax through his belt. “You captured Morveren, a feat I have failed to do. I know your dark-skinned friend smuggled her here last night. I will overlook your attack on Lirea in exchange for Morveren. This is my final offer, Highness.”
    Without thinking, Danielle said, “I’m sorry for your loss, Prince Varisto.”
    Varisto started to respond, then cocked his head. “What?”
    “I had no brothers or sisters.” This wasn’t what she had planned. She hesitated, feeling exposed. But how much more exposed must Varisto feel, alone in the palace and surrounded by strangers? “My stepsisters were . . . not the kind of family I had hoped for. I know you cared for your brother. To lose him must have been painful, and I offer my condolences.”
    This obviously wasn’t what Varisto had expected. He stared at her. “Thank you for your words, Your Highness. If you would also offer his killer, I