The Mermaids Madness

attack the boat, would you mind waiting until it’s delivered us home?” Snow asked. “Or has the floor insulted you somehow?”
    The spear still quivered in place. Talia grabbed the broken shaft and kicked the head, snapping the tip.
    “That’s right, blame the spear.”
    As much as she cared about Snow, there were times Talia wanted to throw her through a wall. “Shouldn’t you be doing something? Working on Beatrice or talking to your mirrors? We don’t even know what that knife did to her.”
    “I’ve done as much as I can. I need to get to my mirror at the palace.” Snow twirled her hair around her finger, pulling it tight until the fingertip turned red. “My mother might have known. She had a lifetime of secrets collected in her library. I saved some of those books, but most . . . her protections were stronger than I expected. I can’t imagine how much knowledge burned that day.”
    With a sigh, Talia knelt and grabbed the broken spear point, wrenching it back and forth until it came free of the wood. She poked a finger through the hole in the carpet. “I’ll mend it when we get back,” she said before Snow could comment.
    “I haven’t seen you this tense since we broke into Lord Pensieve’s palace in Colwich,” Snow said.
    Yet again, Talia restrained herself from snapping at Snow. How could she just sit there? Talia couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so powerless. Even Colwich hadn’t been as bad, though hiding in the swamps until Lord Pensieve’s men gave up the search was an experience she could have done without.
    “You were itching for days afterward,” Snow said.
    “Lorindar has far too many bugs.”
    “Don’t forget the snake.”
    Talia’s mouth quirked. “I’m not the one who screamed.”
    “No, you’re the one who let out a war cry and attacked a foot-long snake with a double-headed war ax.”
    “It’s all I had,” Talia said with a shrug. “Besides, for all I knew it could have been poisonous.”
    Footsteps approached the cabin door.
    “Prince Armand,” Snow said without looking up.
    The door opened, and the prince stepped inside. His expression was cold. “The wind is against us, but I’m told we should reach the palace by dawn. The Saint Tocohl will escort us home, while the Lord Lynn Margaret remains behind to hunt Lirea and her undine. If . . . if my mother still lives, she will be given into the care of my father’s most skilled healers.”
    He kept his emotions under tight rein. He reminded Talia of his father in that way. To Snow, he said, “Thank you for saving her life.”
    Snow bowed her head slightly.
    “What do the two of you know of Lirea?”
    Talia blinked. “Your Highness?”
    “I know you’ve served my mother for many years,” he said. “When I was taken by Danielle’s stepsisters, you and Snow helped to rescue me.”
    “We had help from Ambassador Trittibar,” Snow piped up. “As well as a friend in Fairytown.”
    Armand lifted a hand, and Snow fell silent. Talia fought a rush of anger at the gesture. Who was he to wave Snow to silence? But he had been raised a prince, brought up to command those around him, and he had no way of knowing who it was he had dismissed so casually. Most people knew the tale of Snow White, but the idea that she could be living here in Lorindar was too great a leap. At most, people assumed Snow’s nickname came from her resemblance to that distant princess.
    “Not even Danielle has shared the full details of that rescue,” Armand said. “How my wife, with the help of two servants, could defeat goblins and trolls, spirits and dark magic.”
    “Also darklings and a ghost,” Snow added.
    “Yes, of course.” For a moment, his expression softened. “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m grateful for your assistance in Fairytown. But it’s clear you are both more than mere servants. What do you know of Lirea’s feud with my mother?”
    “Nothing,” Talia said.
    His lips pressed together. He turned to Snow. “And you?”
    Snow stared at the wall. “You’re an intelligent man. If I had known Lirea meant to attack your mother, do you really think I would have left her unguarded?”
    “That doesn’t answer my question,” Armand said.
    Talia had been thinking the same thing. The cabin tilted as the ship fought the wind. Talia adjusted her weight to compensate, watching Snow closely.
    Armand pressed one hand to the ceiling. When the ship steadied, he snapped, “I’ve seen my mother struck