The Mermaids Madness

but—
    The chapel doors swung open. Father Isaac escorted King Theodore inside, followed closely by Armand, Danielle . . . and Talia. Talia was watching Snow, though she quickly looked away. Too quickly.
    Prince Varisto was the last to enter, along with Tymalous, who took a seat at the back of the church. Varisto had left his ax behind. He moved like one lost as he followed the others to the front of the church.
    “How is she?” asked Theodore.
    Father Isaac stepped past Snow and Morveren, climbing the steps to the altar. “Unchanged.”
    Snow shook her head to clear her thoughts, which turned out to be a mistake. Her vision swam, and the back of her head began to throb. She groaned and clutched her skull with one hand.
    “Are you all right?” asked Talia.
    “I’m fine.” Snow swallowed, hoping that hadn’t come out as sharply as it sounded. Without looking up, she untied Lirea’s knife from her belt and gripped it in both hands.
    “Please,” Morveren said. “Don’t let her die.”
    Snow could feel the power in her words, fighting through even Father Isaac’s protections to press against Snow’s thoughts. How long had Morveren gathered her strength for this one final attempt?
    It wasn’t enough. As Morveren’s power faded, she curled her tails around herself and began to weep.
    “This is the witch?” Prince Varisto stood staring at Morveren, his hands clasped.
    Talia stayed beside him, presumably to make sure he didn’t kill Morveren right then. Talia had never been one to rely on magical protections. “This is Morveren.”
    Varisto turned to Snow. “And that knife. My brother . . .” He reached out, then hesitated. “Does he still live?”
    “The mind I touched was splintered,” Snow said. “Little remains of your brother’s spirit.”
    Varisto touched the hilt. He closed his eyes. “I feel nothing. I . . . I had hoped—” His fingers tightened into a fist, and he jerked back. “Please finish this. Give him the dignity of death.”
    Father Isaac moved to the end of the altar. Clasping his crucifix in both hands, he bent his head and began to pray. Snow could feel his power spreading through the church, waves of warmth and protection.
    Snow moved the knife toward the queen’s arm. She saw the king start to rise, but Prince Armand caught his hand.
    “Blood renews the bond between body and soul,” said Morveren. “You have to do this, to help her to find her way back.”
    “I’m sorry, Bea,” Snow whispered, then jabbed the tip of the knife into Beatrice’s forearm. She blinked back tears as blood welled from the cut. Reversing her grip on the knife, she spread the queen’s blood onto the hilt.
    Morveren pulled herself higher, her bent tails supporting her like two thick serpents. “From this point forward, you must be swift. Both souls sense the presence of her body. Already they will be fighting to escape. If your queen is strong enough, she will—”
    “Shut up.” Snow set Lirea’s knife through the web in the cup so that the pommel rested on the bottom of the cup. The hairs held the knife in place, with the blade pointed to the ceiling. “She’s strong. She can do this.”
    Gritting her teeth, she touched her choker. Her head exploded with pain as Father Isaac’s protections fought to suppress her magic, but the true power of Snow’s spell was far from here, safely hidden beneath the palace.
    She called enough power to set the whole chapel alight, but only a single beam of magical light pierced the wards. Being careful not to touch the strands of the web, she directed that light into the cup, to the hair wrapped around the hilt of Lirea’s knife. The first few strands were slow to break, but with each passing moment, more of the hair snapped and curled away. She could almost feel the trapped souls adding their strength from within, fighting to break free of their prison.
    Magic flared through the web on the cup as both souls escaped the knife. Snow’s legs gave out, and she would have fallen if Father Isaac hadn’t caught her.
    “Thank you,” she whispered, pushing herself upright. She concentrated on the soul cup. Each hair glowed golden, a glowing web over the mouth of the chalice. Voices cried out from within. Snow felt Beatrice’s presence as she started to pass through the web, only to fall back into the cup. “Gustan is fighting her.”
    “She must fight back,” Morveren snapped. “Fight back, or both will be lost forever.”
    Danielle approached