The Mermaids Madness

curse, Talia. I know you have scores to settle with the fairies, as do I. Tell me, when was the last time one of the silver fleet fell prey to pirates?”
    “Not in a hundred years.”
    Hephyra winked. “Consider your future, Talia.”
    “My future lies with Beatrice,” Talia said firmly.
    “For now, perhaps.” Hephyra began to climb down the mast. She didn’t bother with the ropes. Her bond with her tree allowed her to cling to the wood like an insect, moving with even greater ease than Talia herself. “Snow will never return your feelings, you know.”
    Talia grabbed the ropes to keep from falling. “What?”
    “Never think you can conceal your longing from a dryad, dear Talia.” Green eyes caressed Talia’s skin. “There could be other benefits to joining my crew. My kind is far less . . . particular than you humans. You don’t have to remain chained to them.”
    “They’re my friends.” Talia’s throat was dry. Damn dryad magic, anyway.
    “Perhaps. But I’m friendlier.” With that, Hephyra laughed and jumped down to the deck, leaving Talia muttering words unbecoming for any lady, let alone a princess.

    By the middle of the second day, Danielle had imbibed more tea than she normally drank in a week. The Phillipa was fast, but her smaller size made her more vulnerable to the motion of the waves. Last night had been one of the most miserable of her life, and that was saying a great deal. Thankfully, Jakob had helped inure her to sleepless nights.
    She had little luck with breakfast but had so far managed to keep down a small lunch of porridge topped with cinnamon. So long as she remained above deck where she could see the horizon, the rolling of the ship wasn’t so bad. She rested one hand on the hilt of her sword as she watched the sea. As always, the touch of the wood and glass handle soothed her tension. With her other hand, she tried to comb the tangles from her hair. She had cut it shorter after Jakob’s birth, but the wind and rain had snarled the shoulder-length locks.
    “We’re down to less than half a barrel of fish guts,” Snow said brightly, coming up behind her. She had acquired a worn leather tricorn hat, no doubt charmed from one of the crew.
    Danielle groaned. “What happened?”
    “One of the barrels washed overboard sometime last night.” Snow yelped as a bundle of black fur hopped past, something purple and slimy clutched in its teeth. “And it doesn’t help that Stub keeps getting into what’s left.”
    The three-legged cat leaped onto one of the deck guns. The sun had warmed the metal, and Danielle could hear him purring as he chewed his prize. She walked over to scratch the scraggly fur behind his ear, which made the stump of his rear leg twitch madly. “How long until we reach Morveren?”
    “Lannadae wasn’t sure,” Snow said. “We lost some time in the storm, but now that we’re under full sail, we might make it by the end of the day. Assuming the winds don’t change, we could have you back home to your prince before the week is out.” Her face brightened. “That reminds me, I have a present for you. I meant to have it ready before we left, but things were so rushed. I finished it after lunch.”
    She pushed up her sleeve and tugged off a bracelet. Three thick strands of copper were braided together, and in the center they held a small, circular mirror. Snow grabbed Danielle’s arm and pushed the bracelet over her wrist.
    “Go on,” said Snow.
    Danielle looked at the mirror. All she saw was the greenish pallor of her face, and the windblown mess that was her hair.
    “Give it a kiss.”
    Danielle shrugged and touched her lips to the glass. A familiar giggle made her smile. The mirror blurred, and then she was staring down at her son. She could hear Nicolette’s voice, trying to persuade him to eat a biscuit. Jakob seemed much more interested in putting the gummed biscuit into his hair.
    “Jakob?”
    He jumped and looked around. “Mama?”
    “He shouldn’t be able to hear you.” Snow yanked Danielle’s arm, wrenching her shoulder as she studied the mirror. “I enchanted the glass to work through the mirrors in the palace. This is the sconce to the left of the doorway in the nursery. The magic of those mirrors should go only one way.”
    She grinned and added, “I left a mirror like this for Armand as well, so the two of you could talk. I told him it was a good-luck necklace. You’ll have to kiss the mirror a little differently to make that