The Mermaids Madness

his attention to the stained glass windows along the tops of the walls.
    Father Isaac strode across the chapel until he reached Armand. Without breaking stride, he wrapped his arms around the prince and kissed his cheek. Isaac was the prince’s age and had known Armand since childhood. He had officiated at the wedding between Danielle and Armand, both the public ceremony in the great hall and the smaller, more intimate ceremony here in the chapel. “I’m so sorry, Armand.”
    He turned to Danielle and embraced her as well, being careful not to block Jakob’s view of the window. His faded black robe smelled of incense, and the brown curls of his beard tickled her cheek. “As I told the king, the wounds are serious, but not fatal. Whoever treated her did well. Even your father’s healer pronounced her care ‘adequate.’ ”
    Danielle forced a smile. Coming from Tymalous, that was high praise indeed.
    “I’m told her wounds go deeper than the body,” said Armand.
    “I know.” Isaac backed away, straightening the rose-red collar of his robe. The collar was wrinkled, the edges dark with sweat. A jeweled crucifix hung from a leather thong around his neck, seeming out of place against his oft-patched robe. Small rubies capped each of the tiny nails holding the silver figure to the cross.
    “Spirit has been torn from flesh,” Isaac said as he led them to the altar. He picked up another palm frond, his hands moving with well-practiced assurance as he folded the frond into a cross. He gently tucked the cross into the queen’s hands. “This will protect her until I have time to erect a stronger ward. She should be safe here.”
    “A ward?” Danielle asked.
    “Not all churches frown upon the magical arts.” A smile flitted across Isaac’s face. “Given the nature of this kingdom, it would be a foolish ruler who didn’t bring a magical adviser into his circle.”
    “You said she would be safe,” said Armand. “Safe from what?”
    Though the king didn’t look up from his prayers, Danielle saw his shoulders tense. He was listening as closely as his son.
    “Her body is vulnerable,” Isaac said. “There are forces in this world that might seek to use such an unprotected host.”
    Danielle hugged Jakob tighter. Jakob squirmed in protest. He twisted about to stare at Beatrice, his small mouth pursed in concentration. Slowly, his face stretched into a yawn.
    “Magic is a gift from God, like anything else,” Isaac said. “The blade that struck your mother is a perversion of that gift. I can care for her mortal body, but even here, protected by God’s power, the body can survive for only so long without the soul.”
    Armand nodded. “How long?”
    “A week. Perhaps two. The queen is strong, but she is not a young woman.”
    For a moment, Danielle felt like a child again. She wanted to flee to her mother’s hazel tree and hide within the branches where she would be safe. But her mother’s tree was gone, and hiding wouldn’t help the queen. She moved closer to Armand, drawing on his strength instead. He did the same, stepping toward her until their shoulders touched.
    “What can we do?” asked Armand. “I mean no offense to your knowledge, but there are other mages in Lorindar. We can summon help from Fairytown as well. They will—”
    “And what will you offer the rulers of Fairytown for their aid?” asked King Theodore. Here in the chapel, he didn’t bother to conceal his bitterness. “What price will you pay for the life of a queen?”
    “Without knowing how her spirit was taken, they could do no more than I,” Isaac said. “For now, Armand, you should comfort your father. Take strength in your shared love for her and for one another.”
    “We’ve little time,” Armand said. “Lorindar may soon be at war with the undine, and love will not find the mermaid who did this.”
    “No. But it will help you through the days to come.” Isaac turned to Danielle. “As for you, perhaps you should take your son to the nursery?”
    Danielle looked down at Jakob, who had fallen asleep and was now drooling on her shoulder.
    Isaac bent down to kiss Jakob’s forehead. “God be with you all.”

    Lirea floated in the shade beneath the dock, listening to the creak of wood as the humans finished unloading their ship. One hand clutched her knife in its sheath. The sea had washed the human queen’s blood from the blade, but it didn’t matter. The attack had roused the voices, like blood to