The Mermaids Madness

squeezing her ribs.
    “I meant it when I said I have no quarrel with you, Princess. I didn’t want to use this.” Morveren held up a scale. “This is the scale I used to transform you into one of us. The scale knows your blood. It knows you.”
    Danielle’s legs gave out. She felt herself falling, and then Talia’s arms caught her and pulled her back through the water. Talia grabbed Danielle’s wrist and shouted into the mirror. “Snow, we need some magic in here!”
    “Snow can’t fight me from your ship.” Morveren’s voice was strained. “Nor will killing me end my spell on Danielle,” she added quickly, stopping Talia in midstep.
    Danielle held her breath, but that only increased the pressure. Yet every time she exhaled, she had a harder time filling her lungs. Bit by bit, Morveren’s spell squeezed the air from her body.
    “What did you do?” Talia demanded.
    “Human lungs are such fragile things, so easily shrunken.” Morveren rose higher, sitting on the broken floor so the water washed against her stomach. “You can kill me if you’d like. Fight your way past my spirits and cut my throat. But how much time will you waste—”
    “Just kill her,” Danielle croaked.
    Talia sheathed her knife and grabbed Danielle’s collar, hauling her back. Danielle’s vision was starting to sparkle. She dimly saw a merman lunge toward them, only to scream and fall back as Talia rammed Danielle’s sword into his belly. Even as she suffocated, Danielle was relieved Talia had remembered her sword.
    “Hold on.” Talia’s voice sounded hollow. “Snow, if you can hear me, get ready to fix our princess!”
    Danielle gasped, trying to force more air into her chest. Talia tossed the sword up through the pit, then lifted Danielle onto her shoulder, shoving her onto the next deck.
    Talia would never be able to drag her all the way to the upper deck. Danielle tried to speak, but her chest felt like it was crumpling inward.
    Instead of carrying Danielle higher, Talia turned and hauled her toward the side of the ship. Through a haze of sparks, Danielle saw Talia step back from the hull, spin, and smash her heel through the wall. A flurry of kicks widened the hole, breaking away the rotted wood. Talia switched legs and continued to kick, splitting the outer boards of the hull.
    Danielle felt herself being lifted. Her feet dragged over broken planks, and then she was falling. She doubled over as the cramps in her chest worsened. Her heart was beating so loudly she could barely hear. She plunged into the water, the shock of impact driving any remaining air from her lungs.
    Another set of hands took her, and then she was racing across the water.
    She heard Lannadae’s voice say, “I’ve got her.” Snow was shouting something, but Danielle couldn’t make out the words.
    Moments later, the bonds squeezing Danielle’s chest eased. Her head pounded, and she gasped for breath. Slowly, her vision cleared. Lannadae and Talia held her as she coughed. They floated in the water, surrounded by humans and undine both. “Lannadae?”
    “Quiet,” said Snow. She sat behind Danielle, balanced on a floating isle of ice. “Don’t try to talk yet.”
    Danielle turned her head until she spotted the ship. The Phillipa lay on her side. Her masts rose at a low angle from the water, and debris littered the waves. Most of the crew clung to the rigging or bobbed along on bits of flotsam. Fighting another bout of coughing, she asked, “What happened?”
    “The merbitch sent her rot-eaten air spirits against us.” Captain Hephyra stood on the starboard side of the ship, balanced on the hull. “They struck hard, pushing us off-kilter. We held steady, but once the cargo shifted, there was no saving her.” Hephyra was more somber than Danielle had ever seen her.
    “How long?” asked Danielle.
    “More water rushes into the hull with each swell,” Talia said, pointing. “The Phillipa is more watertight than most, but I suspect she’ll sink before the sun lifts above the horizon.”
    “Snow, can you—”
    “I’m not the one with a hundred trapped souls to serve me,” Snow said. “I tried to freeze the water as it rushed inward, but there was too much.” She lowered her voice. “Hephyra will survive for a while. Weeks, maybe even months before her tree finally dies. But she’ll be trapped here.”
    “Do me a favor, Talia,” Hephyra shouted. “The next time you see the fairy queen, punch that uptight bitch in the