The Mermaids Madness

wouldn’t obey. Every step painfully slow, watching Jakob totter on the edge, too far to reach, and then he was falling.
    Danielle rubbed her eyes, trying to blot those visions from her mind. Trying to keep from shaking.
    “Stop it,” Snow shouted. “Lannadae!”
    Lannadae jumped, and her song trailed off.
    “The undine’s voices are magical,” Snow said, wiping her face. “Particularly those of royal blood.”
    Danielle nodded, remembering Lirea’s screams back on the Glass Slipper . “Thank you,” she whispered. “Talia, are you all right?”
    Talia had turned to face the cavern wall. “Tell her if she does that again, I’m going to—”
    “I won’t,” Lannadae said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I forgot how our song affects you.” Tears dripped down her cheeks. “My father is dead, isn’t he? Lirea killed him.”
    Danielle rubbed her arms, fighting the urge to run to the palace to check on Jakob. She could still feel Lannadae’s grief, as strong as if it were her own. “I’m sorry, Lannadae. I lost my own father when I was young.”
    “I should have stayed with him,” said Lannadae. “He insisted on protecting me. On protecting us both, Lirea and myself. He said the tribe couldn’t afford to lose either of us.”
    “Tell us about Lirea’s knife.” Talia’s voice was colder than usual. Lannadae’s song had obviously hit her as hard as it had Danielle.
    “The hair wrapped around the handle is mine. Mine and my sister’s.” Lannadae floated on her back, fingers tugging the beads in her hair. “We were told it would save her.”
    “Who told you?” asked Snow.
    “My grandmother.”
    “Tell us what happened,” Danielle said.
    Lannadae swam to the rear of the cave and retrieved a knotted loop of yellow sinew. Beads and bits of shell were tied along its length. She twined the cord between her fingers, weaving a simple pattern of diamonds within a larger square. The motions appeared to calm her.
    “I am Lannadae, daughter of Gwerdhen, of the line of Ilowkira.” This was the loudest she had spoken. Her words were almost a chant. “This is the story of Lirea and Prince Gustan.
    “Lirea was the most daring of Gwerdhen’s three children. She would follow the humans and their ships, learning their songs and eavesdropping on their words. She soon learned more of humans than any undine before her.
    “One spring day, powerful waves drove a human ship against the rocks.” Lannadae’s fingers looped through the cord in her hands. When she pulled the cord taut, it suggested the shape of a ship with a single sail. “Lirea swam with all her strength, but she was able to save only a single human. He was a Hiladi prince, strong and handsome. She brought him to safety and fell in love. She gave herself to him that day on the rocks.
    “When our father learned what Lirea had done, his fury shook the oceans. But his rage only made Lirea’s yearning stronger.”
    “Forbidden love is much more exciting,” Snow agreed.
    Lannadae shuddered, sending tiny wavelets from her body. “The undine have frolicked with your kind upon occasion, but for one of the royal blood to love a human . . . she could have been banished from the tribe. Prince Gustan’s people would have done the same, thinking the undine little better than animals. For much of that summer Lirea would sneak away to be with her beloved, despite the dangers. Gustan’s palace sits in treacherous waters, where wind and waves threaten even an undine. Often she returned bruised and battered from the journey. They both knew there could be no real future between them, but still she went to him.
    “As spring passed into summer, Lirea turned to our grandmother Morveren for help. Morveren, who had spent her life gathering the secrets of the sea. Morveren offered Lirea the chance to assume human form, though the transformation was not without cost. But Lirea cared only for her prince.”
    “I’ve heard this story.” Talia’s posture was stiff. Danielle could see how much Lannadae’s song of despair had shaken her. “Sailors talk about a mermaid who became human to be with her prince.”
    “There’s a song, too,” Snow added. “Six verses, one for each night of the seduction, ending when the prince takes the girl down to—” She flushed and looked at Lannadae. “I’m sorry. I never realized that song was about your sister.”
    “I don’t like to tell this story,” Lannadae said, seemingly unoffended. She