The Mermaids Madness

hairs wrapped around the hilt were taut, like the lines of the sails when the winds gusted.
    Snapping those spells should be simple enough. Cut the hairs and the whole thing would unravel. Unfortunately, there was no way to know what that would do to the souls trapped inside. When lines stretched so taut finally snapped, they often did so with enough force to kill.
    She brushed her finger over the blade. The abalone felt warm and wet to the touch, as though the blood it had tasted had never truly dried. She wiped her hand on her shirt.
    “You should rest,” said Danielle. “Can we get you anything? If you’re still nauseated, I could prepare some of that tea you brought for me.”
    “I need to talk to Morveren,” said Snow. “I need her help to—”
    “Morveren tried to kill us.” Talia kept looking at Snow, then glancing away.
    “I don’t understand.” Snow stared at Talia, then at Danielle, who nodded. “She helped us. She was teaching me—”
    “Her lessons and advice nearly got you killed.” Talia turned away. When she spoke again, her voice was calmer. “She’s locked in the hold. When we reach Lorindar, you can work with Father Isaac—”
    “No. It’s at least a day’s journey to Lorindar,” Snow said, trying not to think about Morveren. “Can Beatrice afford to lose another day? I assume you’ve already spoken to Armand?”
    “While you slept,” Danielle admitted. “Beatrice is . . . she’s alive, but she’s not doing well.”
    Snow touched the front of her choker, feeling the warmth of the mirrors. She squinted, trying to force the twin knives to blur together. Beatrice was inside that knife, somewhere. “Mirror, mirror in my—no, that doesn’t rhyme.”
    “What are you doing?” Danielle asked.
    The throbbing in Snow’s head grew deeper as she concentrated. “Mirrors with your silver sheen, help me speak with my trapped queen.”
    Not her best rhyme, but the words helped. Morveren would have been disappointed, but right now Snow needed the extra power of her mirrors. Without that power, she didn’t know if she could cast even the simplest charm.
    Both Talia and Danielle leaned closer, as if they too hoped to hear Queen Bea’s voice.
    Snow did her best to shut out the sounds of the ship and the crew. There was something . . . a buzzing sound, like an argument in a distant room. She couldn’t concentrate enough to make out the words.
    “I need privacy.” Snow stood, and the room shifted around her. She reached for one of the ceiling beams to steady herself, but her vision had doubled again, and she missed. Talia caught her by the elbows before she could fall.
    “You need rest,” Danielle said.
    Keeping one hand on Snow’s arm, Talia reached over to pluck the knife away. “How about I take that? You won’t do us much good if you fall and impale yourself.”
    “Actually, that might work,” Snow mumbled. “The knife was designed to hold a single soul. Stabbing more people might snap the spells completely. That might still destroy the souls, though. Hm . . .”
    She pulled out of Talia’s grip and placed one hand against the ceiling for balance. Pain pulsed through her skull, blurring her vision with every beat. “I’ll need a new bandage, too.”
    Talia moved to block the door. “Do I have to tie you to the bed to make you sleep?”
    She would, too. She was awfully stubborn that way. Snow sat back down. “Actually, Danielle, some tea might help settle my stomach.”
    “Of course.” Danielle squeezed Snow’s hand, then slipped away.
    Talia dug through Snow’s things, pulling out clean rags to use as bandages. Talia was more skilled at inflicting wounds than patching them up, but Snow knew she had also gotten plenty of practice with the latter.
    “Thank you.” Snow leaned back in the bed and closed her eyes. She could hear Talia sitting down on the trunk. “You’re staying?”
    “You think I’m going to let you sleep with that kind of wound and not keep an eye on you?”
    “I’ll be fine.” Snow took a deep breath and began to hum to herself. “I’ll sleep better alone.”
    “Since when?”
    Snow grinned despite herself. Gathering her magic as lightly as she could, she nudged Talia’s mind. “Go. Captain Hephyra could probably use you in the crow’s nest, watching for undine. You wouldn’t want them catching us off guard again, would you?”
    “That’s true enough,” Talia said slowly.
    “You should probably leave the knife here.” Snow