The Mermaids Madness

father, beating him and shouting at him for rutting with mermaids. With animals .
    Lirea’s song was little more than a moan as she pressed herself to the floor and tried to separate her thoughts from the rest. Gustan had never loved her. He had used her, and like a fool, Lirea had let him.
    He still used her. Gustan and Morveren both, their desires twining with hers, twisting her mind, propelling her actions. Her moans grew louder as she clung to that sense of self, even as the whispers filled her mind, pulling her down . . .
    Outside, a merman called for her, his song urgent enough to jolt Lirea from her thoughts. The water swallowed her screams as fins flattened into flesh. A shock of cold ran through her body. She pulled herself onto the stairs, the hard edges digging into her body.
    The transformation took longer than usual, leaving her exhausted. She gasped with pain as she strained to draw the last scales into her skin. When she finally pushed herself to her hands and knees, she felt as though she crawled upon knives. Eventually, she made her way to the upper window, where she could look out at her people.
    Undine filled the moat. The first rush of spawning had passed, and most of her people were ready to go forth. Pride filled her chest at the sight of her army.
    A merman warrior sang from the front of the crowd, quieting the others as he requested his queen’s permission to speak. Lirea didn’t recognize him. The entire tribe was alien to her. They had grown too much, and she no longer knew her people by sight or by smell.
    “What have you found?” she asked.
    “Captain Varisto’s ship,” the merman said. “He docks at Lorindar. With Morveren and Lannadae.”
    Not Varisto too. She gripped the window with one hand as anger flooded her body. How could he turn against her? The miserable traitor. All that time he had pretended to aid her, hunting for a way to break Morveren’s power when in truth he wanted only to help Morveren destroy her.
    The air was strangely still. Lirea rested her head against the side of the window. They would all come for her, to devour what was left of her until nothing remained but a distant whisper in the summer wind.
    So be it. “Summon the warriors and prepare them for battle.”

CHAPTER 15

    T HE ONLY SOUND WAS THE RATTLING of the carriage wheels over the paving stones. The tension made Danielle want to leap out the window.
    Armand was furious about his injury, hardly saying a word since they left the palace. Tymalous had splinted his leg after tending to Father Isaac, but there was no way he would be able to get about on a ship. Even on land, Armand had to use a crutch to hobble about. He sat on the far side of the carriage, his leg propped up on the opposite bench.
    Rarely was Armand’s resemblance to the king more pronounced than when they were both upset. King Theodore hadn’t spoken either. He sat with Beatrice, their hands twined together. He hadn’t tried to argue Beatrice out of her decision, but it was clear to everyone how badly he wanted to. He fumed in silence, and Danielle found herself leaning to the side to try to avoid his scowl.
    Even Snow was uncharacteristically somber. At first, Danielle thought it was guilt. Snow blamed herself for Morveren’s escape and for Father Isaac’s injuries. But she kept staring at Talia, then turning away. If Danielle didn’t know better, she would have thought Snow looked embarrassed.
    The queen alone appeared relaxed, resting with her hand twined with Theodore’s. She had taken both tea and wine but said she had no appetite for solid food yet. Danielle hadn’t been able to talk to her since she awoke in the church. Selfish as it was, she desperately wanted time alone with the queen, time to tell Beatrice what she had done, to ask if she had made the right choice about Morveren.
    Armand finally broke the silence. “You’re not well, Mother. You shouldn’t even be out of bed, let alone—”
    “I’m still your mother, not to mention your queen,” Beatrice interrupted with a trace of her old spark. “That means I outrank you twice.”
    “That’s right,” muttered Talia. “If she chooses to head into battle half-starved, the stitches in her chest still seeping blood, who are we to question her wisdom?”
    Bea’s smile was pale but loving. “Precisely.”
    Talia stared heavenward. She was the first out of the carriage when they arrived, practically leaping through the door to escape. Danielle followed