More than a year later, a new entry with shaky writing.
A storm brought a man into our path today. Mette saw her opportunity—though she’d come to love me, she missed home. She wanted to try the spell.
My queen could not kill a human. But this man’s life was over. Laying her hands on him, she repeated her spell.
“Líf. Dau?i. Minn líf. Minn bjo?. Sei?r. Sei?r. Sei?r.”
The human’s eyes jerked open as his lungs released. His skin glowed where she touched him, and soon the glow was bright enough that I could see neither of them.
In a flash the light was gone, the man was fully dead, and there was Mette, just as I’d found her—with legs and lungs, struggling for air. I swam her topside, found her a piece of the human’s shattered boat to hang on to, and then swam her to the nearest shore. I am not sure how long the magic will hold, or what will happen when it runs out. Or if I will ever get her back. Mette is on the hunt for a witch to help. She knows of a powerful one in Havnestad—one who will keep our secret.
I fear I will lose her. I fear our people will suffer.
The little mermaid turned the page. Nothing.
She turned the page again. Nothing. The sea king must have spent days waiting for his queen to return. The little mermaid knew she had, for she was the true mother of the girls who she, herself, called sisters.
On the fourth day, a new entry.
I have heard from my dear Mette! The Havnestad witch gave her four days at most. After that, I would need to change her back into a mermaid or she’d be lost to both the sea and land. I told her I was too weak. That I couldn’t, but the witch simply smiled and told me I underestimated love’s effect on my magic. Mette hadn’t loved me when I’d transformed her the first time, but she loved me now. And that made all the difference.
The little mermaid skimmed the rest. There must be a way to keep her legs longer than four days. That couldn’t be it. If she had to kill a man, she needed to know she could stay on land forever.
She skipped ahead. Nothing. Nothing anywhere.
Frustrated, she shut the book, careful not to let it slam, though she wanted to slam it. She wanted to throw it across the room. She raised her arm to do just that when she saw the queen’s bookcase across the way. She lunged for the shelf. Thumbed through the spines. And stopped when she saw what she wanted. The queen’s diary.
Heart pounding, she flipped to that year. To that day. The day the queen had returned with the sea king’s help.
The queen wrote that she had known what it would take to remain on land. Love wasn’t just the answer to return; it was the answer to stay. True love would break the magic, the witch had said.
But so, too, would something else—death. A sacrifice so worthy it would make the magic stand up and listen long enough to create a human life.
It was right there in Mette’s looping script. The answer to the little mermaid’s quest. A way to get both her life back and the perfect revenge.
28
THE BALLROOM IS BRIMMING WITH MERRIMENT. Beyond the doors, a sea of people—young and old, of Havnestad and not—mill about, their laughter and cries of delight adding to the general hum as the king’s band strikes a lively jig in the corner.
For once, Nik is not with the musicians, stealing their instruments and the show. Tonight, he does that from the dance floor.
King Asger has just finished a speech—one he didn’t foist upon Nik—and takes Queen Charlotte’s hand. “And now, the first dance.”
Nik steps forward, in line with his parents. The weight of the room is upon him as a statelier tune starts up. Wilhelm van Horn, Ruyven’s father, stands in front of the orchestra as the king’s official announcer. He reads from a scroll, stamped with the king’s seal. All of this is so formal, so unlike us. A prince coming of age is serious business.
Wilhelm clears his throat. “Crown Prince Asger Niklas Bryniulf ?ldenburg III invites for his first dance . . .” The drums kick up for a minute. Annemette grabs my hand. “Friherrinde Annemette of Odense.”
I squeeze Annemette’s fingers just before she steps forward into a sea of applause. Every eye in the room is upon her, this beautiful creature. Fru Liesel is proclaiming loudly somewhere behind me, “My Anneke, my Anneke.”
Annemette curtsies, graceful. The queen looks pleased. The king too. Nik looks slightly embarrassed, ears red. He glances to me, but I’m not sure how he can take his eyes off her. She’s the sun and the rest of us are ordinary stars.
She glides toward Nik. He extends a hand and takes hers and they stand to the side, a nearly identical image to the monarchs next to them. One generation and then the next. My heart heaves. After this exhausting, disappointing day, we might have a happy ending. For all of us.
Iker steps forward next. My heaving heart begins to pound, vibrating like a rail tie under an oncoming train.
This is the moment.
Wilhelm clears his throat yet again. I can already feel eyes settling upon my silhouette.
“Crown Prince Christian Olaf Iker Navarre ?ldenburg invites for his first dance . . .” The drums begin, and I can’t separate them from my own heartbeats. “Friherrinde Oda of Kal?.”
My heart skips a beat.
Who?
Iker extends his arm in the direction of an icy-blond stranger.
The girl steps forward, the women around her frozen with excitement. Iker doesn’t so much as glance my way. He watches the girl as if she’s a prize pony, sauntering forward. The queen looks pleased. So pleased. For once, the rogue prince has done her bidding.
My cheeks burn while my heart and blood grow cold with stagnation. I should have known all along. Iker could never dance with me here. Just like he’ll never be able to dance with me in Rigeby Bay or anywhere else. Whether our whaling trip is real or not, it won’t be anything more than those few weeks. I close my eyes and let the wave of embarrassment wash over me.
When I open them, Malvina’s smug face flashes before mine, as if there’s a spotlight on her from across the room. This is what people like her have been waiting for ever since Nik, Iker, and I became friends—my ambition slammed down in front of them all.
And here we are.
I’m just as bad as the townspeople say I am. Always expecting something from these princes whether I deserve it or not. Nik drops Annemette’s hand and takes a step forward. As if he can save me. But I meet his eyes and hope our special language spans the distance and the weight of so many eyes.
My heart is broken, but his is more important in this moment. These next moments could mean life or death.
Yet Nik is still reaching for me, until Annemette grabs his hand and whispers something in his ear. He immediately moves back in line, his eyes in the middle distance.
When the music begins and the dance officially starts, all I want to do is run away, but I’m trapped, forced to watch the three royal couples, a fake smile plastered on my face.
Nik’s crown is a beacon in the very center, everyone else floating around him. The smile on his face is unavoidable, the brightest thing in the room. Brighter than the queen’s diamonds. Brighter than the king’s sapphire crown.
Annemette’s long waves sweep around, swinging with each spin, a flash of butter-blond moving at a happy clip across the inlaid marble.
Many of the older townsfolk hang by the dance floor with more enthusiasm than even the youth, standing close enough to soak in young love at its most enchanting.
The song ends, and each couple takes a bow before other couples swarm the floor, clapping them off as a new song starts up. The royals are swallowed by the crowd, almost everyone dancing. I sink farther into the background, finally settling into a chair pushed up against the wall. Almost immediately there’s a hand on my shoulder.
“I didn’t give the announcer that girl’s name.” Iker’s voice is low and hushed. Strained. “Please dance with me. Please, Evelyn.”
“I—”