The Mermaids Madness

braced herself. “Or I could take you to her.”
    “You know where Lannadae is?” Talia asked.
    “Kind of.”
    Danielle folded her arms. “What does ‘kind of’ mean?”
    Snow stepped back, trying to guide the conversation back into the library and away from all of the weapons. “It means yes. Beatrice swore me to secrecy.”
    Talia followed her. She was unarmed, but Snow had once seen Talia kill a troll with nothing more than tableware, so that wasn’t as comforting as it might have been. “How long have you known?”
    “Since the fall. Beatrice needed me to set up a mirror so that we could check on Lannadae while she hibernated through the winter.”
    “Why didn’t you tell us?” Danielle asked. She sounded angry too, but she was better at keeping that anger under control. Unlike Talia, who tended to wield her anger like a sledge hammer.
    “Because I promised.” Snow retreated farther into the library, hurrying to one of the trunks against the wall. She opened the lid and pulled out a dark cloak. “According to Posannes, Lirea was sick. She slept for days at a time, refusing to move. When she woke, she spoke to herself, ignoring those around her. I guess she started to believe her sisters were conspiring against her. She attacked and killed her older sister.”
    Talia followed, throwing words like knives. “And you didn’t think to warn us about a murderous mermaid?”
    “Lirea wasn’t a killer.” Snow’s shoulders slumped. “I mean, she was, but not like that. She loved her father. She wept over her sister and begged for the king’s help. She tried to kill herself.”
    “If she’d succeeded, Beatrice might not be dying in the chapel,” Talia said.
    “Posannes sent Lannadae to the queen to keep her safe while he sought help for Lirea.” It had been Snow who recommended the healers of Najarin. Najarin was far enough south to be accessible during the tribe’s migration, and their healing skills were second to none. Several of Snow’s own tomes were hand-copied from Najarin.
    Talia snorted. “A daughter who had already killed once.”
    “Posannes was no fool,” said Snow. “He kept Lirea under guard. She was unarmed, escorted by other undine at all times. He should have been safe.” She stared at the cloak in her hands. “Posannes sent messengers throughout the winter, telling us Lirea was getting better.”
    “Better enough to murder her father and take over the tribe.” Talia spun away. “So you knew Lannadae was here, and you’ve been wasting time with your mirror instead of taking us to see her?”
    “I thought I could find Lirea myself.” Snow kept her head low, hair hiding her face. “Beatrice asked me not to tell.”
    “Beatrice is dying!”
    Each word was like a blow to the stomach. Snow blinked back tears, but before she could respond, Danielle asked, “Talia, would you break a vow to Beatrice?”
    Talia hesitated.
    “Posannes was king of his tribe,” Danielle continued. “I don’t know how it is among the undine, but I’ve watched human royalty. What would happen if the other tribes learned one daughter was mad, the other hidden away? Beatrice was protecting them. It’s what she does.”
    “Here.” Snow flung the cloak at Talia before she could say anything more, then grabbed another for Danielle. “Do you want to yell at me some more, or do you want to find a mermaid?”
    “Why can’t I do both?” muttered Talia.

    The wool cloak smelled of dust and cedar, but Danielle pulled it over her shoulders. Behind her, Talia gathered knives and other weapons from the armory.
    “Do you really need so many weapons?” Danielle asked. “Beatrice was helping Lannadae. She wouldn’t—”
    “Who says they’re for Lannadae?” Talia tucked a small whip into her belt. “I wasn’t ready when Lirea attacked the ship. That won’t happen again.” She glanced at Snow and added, “Though I might have been prepared if someone had warned me about Lannadae.”
    “The last messenger Posannes sent told us Lirea was doing better,” Snow said. “He said—”
    “It doesn’t matter anymore,” Talia interrupted. “Where have you been hiding this mermaid?”
    Snow ran her fingers over the books on the far wall, selecting a heavy leather-bound tome with Dwarven Architecture: A History of Rock, Iron, and More Rocks written on the spine in silver ink. She gave it a tug, and the bookshelves swiveled away from the wall with a painful screech.
    “A secret passage