The Mermaids Madness

at the memories, Danielle edged around the foremast to the very front of the railing, trying to stay out of the way as the crew climbed up to take in the sails. Nobody had ever warned Danielle how crowded a ship could be. The three masts—four if you counted the bowsprit spearing out from the front of the ship—all trailed ropes and rigging, as though a giant spider had spun its web over the entire ship. With eight cannons secured to the main deck, as well as the longboats, there was hardly room for two men to pass each other.
    Danielle watched as her friend Talia made her way across the deck. The chaos didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. She glided through the crew as though she had been born at sea, though from what Danielle knew of Talia’s past, she hadn’t even set foot on a sailing ship until her late teens, when she fled her desert kingdom in the south.
    Shortly after Talia’s birth, fairies had bestowed upon her a number of gifts, not the least of which was supernatural grace. Danielle might have been jealous if she hadn’t also known the price Talia paid for those gifts. Few knew the true story of Sleeping Beauty, how her century of slumber had been broken by an awakening to make nightmares pale.
    “Are you ready?” Beatrice asked, drawing Danielle’s attention back to her responsibilities as princess.
    “Does it matter?” She knew she shouldn’t be nervous. All she had to do was stand there . . . stand there and represent the entire kingdom of Lorindar. She who had spent most of her life in rags, with only the birds and the rats for company. Her short time as princess of Lorindar couldn’t overcome a lifetime as Cinderwench, and there were still times she thought this new life a dream, an illusion to be swept away come midnight.
    “Not really, no.” Beatrice gave her a reassuring smile.
    To the undine, nobility flowed from mother to child, so it was the queen who was most revered. The former queen of the undine had passed away several seasons earlier, leaving the husband to rule, but they still expected to be greeted by the queen of Lorindar. The queen, and now the princess as well.
    Danielle should have been presented the year before, but she had been touring the kingdom with Armand when the undine returned to Lorindar’s waters. She had planned to see the undine in the fall, when they left for warmer waters to the south. Her stepsisters had ruined that plan, kidnapping Armand and enslaving Danielle, then trying to steal her unborn child. Even after Danielle returned home, she had been in no condition for a voyage at sea.
    She touched her stomach, remembering the dark magic her stepsister Stacia had used to rush her pregnancy along. Danielle had been terrified of what that magic would do to her son. She still thanked God every night that Jakob had been born healthy. No healer could find the slightest problem, and even Snow assured her he was free of any taint or curse.
    Beatrice took her hand, gently guiding Danielle to the railing at her right. “Lorindar is fortunate to have such a princess.” Turning back toward Armand, she raised her voice. “Lorindar would do well to have a less distracted prince, though. Hurry, Armand!”
    Armand was already making his way toward the bow. Etiquette didn’t actually require his presence. Indeed, he could have stayed behind with King Theodore, who was known to have the same reaction to sailing as Danielle. But Armand was his mother’s son, and he rarely passed up the opportunity to sail.
    Behind him, two sailors lugged a watertight wooden chest, sealed as firmly as the ship’s hull with pitch and beeswax.
    By tradition, Lorindar presented the undine a gift each year to welcome them back from their winter migration. For as long as King Posannes had ruled, that gift had been a chest of strawberry preserves. Last year, Posannes had given Beatrice the pearl she now wore, saying he had gotten the better part of the deal.
    “Man the yards!” Armand shouted. The crew in the yards came to attention, arms held back so they could grasp the ropes for balance. It was an impressive salute, over fifty men stretched out on the horizontal beams which held the now-furled sails.
    Talia climbed onto the forecastle, then stepped aside to make room for Armand to follow. The prince leaned down to haul the chest after him, aided by the men below.
    “There.” Beatrice rested one hand on the rail as she pointed toward the distant shapes. “Where is Snow? I