Midway up the back wall, a balcony has been carved out of the palest sandstone and studded with over-sized pearls. The Sea King is there, my father, hands bearing down on the balustrade, my sisters in a single-file line behind him. His hair is cropped close, as is customary for mer-men, a thin gold crown circling his head. The trident is resting against the balcony wall; he has no need of a weapon at an event like this, yet he keeps it close to him anyway. His jaw is working back and forward, a furious click of bone, snap, snap. My father hates this ball, and yet he continues to insist that it be thrown, the festivities more elaborate with each passing year. He shall prove to the mer-folk, once and for all, how little he cares about my mother’s desertion and we will believe him, if we know what’s good for us.
“Muirgen. Sophia.” My grandmother loops around us, a crown of battered metal plaited through her long, greying hair. “Where have you been? You know the Sea King does not like to be kept waiting.” She pushes us before her, swimming until we reach the Sea King. Sophia joins my sisters at the back of the balcony, Grandmother settling at her side. I approach my father – I must present myself to him before remaining at his side for this part of the festivities.
“Is there any particular reason that you are late?” my father asks as I hover before him. His left eye is twitching, never a good sign. “I do not appreciate this tardiness, Muirgen.”
“I’m sorry, Father,” I say. “I wanted to ensure that I looked my best before leaving my bedroom.”
“Well, let me see if the delay was worthwhile, then.” His gaze licks up from my tail to my crown. I keep my face very still. He does not like it when we flinch.
“You are pleasing to me, Muirgen,” he says finally. “Most pleasing indeed.” He tosses a compliment back at my grandmother. “You have done well this evening, Thalassa.”
“Thank you, Sea King,” my grandmother replies, relaxing. “But the praise should surely rest with you. For it is you who has created her. It is you who gave her life, is it not?”
“This is true,” he says. “Hopefully she will take after me in other respects too, for her own sake.”
He takes me by the shoulders then, turning me around to face the crowd. I blink in the bright light, wondering at the vast numbers of people, most of whom are unknown to me. And yet they all know my name, of course.
“Greetings, mer-men, mermaids, all of my loyal subjects. It is a pleasure to receive you at court today, on this, the celebration of my youngest daughter’s birthday.”
The mer-folk swim out of the cockle-shells, gazing up at us with envy and fascination. We, the chosen ones. “Today is a wonderful day. Not only do we celebrate the cleansing of our kingdom, the decontamination of the palace…” He gives the same speech every year, and yet his indignation never seems to dissipate. “But to add to our joy, Princess Muirgen turns fifteen today. An important age, as you all know. An age that brings extra privileges, yes, but also extra responsibilities. I have no doubt that Muirgen is up to the task of both. She is my most beloved child.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cosima scowling, then remembers her manners, her face smoothing into a blankness that I recognize too well. I shall pay for my father’s comments later. “And the most attractive,” the Sea King adds. “She resembles me, does she not?”
The mer-folk cheer, even though everyone knows that I look like my mother. I watch them clapping for my beauty, as if it was something I had earned.
“Sing,” they shout. “Sing, Princess!” The words bubbling up to meet us, demanding to be heard.
“The people have spoken,” my father says. “You shall sing, Muirgen.”
“I am tired, Father,” I say. My voice is one of the few things that is mine, and mine alone. I do not want to share it with this baying crowd. “I was hoping I could rest this evening.”
“I said, sing, Muirgen,” he repeats, his tone shark-threat. “I too want to hear your voice. You will not deny me, your father, will you?”
The Sea King cannot be denied. I learned that lesson a long time ago.
“Of course not, Father,” I say. “Whatever you want.”
I breathe in, and I can feel the notes trembling at the base of my throat, forming without any real effort. I open my mouth and the melody spills out, slithering through the water, turning everything it touches translucent.
The mer-folk look up at me, spellbound, the melody lacing us together as one. It has wound its way into their bodies, shivering through them. This is my gift, but unlike the much-admired symmetry of my face, this gift actually brings me joy. For the last few years, I have noticed that it is only when I am singing that I ever feel complete, as if my body and my soul have finally found one another. There you are, they whisper, curling up in each other’s arms, I’ve missed you.
“What a treat for you all, what an honour,” my father cuts in before the end, the song scurrying out of my reach, as if frightened away. “Such clarity. Such purity. I’m sure we can all agree that my daughter’s purity of voice has no parallel.”
“Thank you, Father.” I repeat the lines that I have been taught to say since birth. “Thank you for bestowing this gift upon me. I am fortunate to have been born as your salt-kin.”
“You are most welcome,” he says, kissing my forehead. “A father’s love for his daughter knows no bounds. And that is all any child needs, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Yes, Father … what?”
“All a child needs is the love of her father.”
“Very good. But let us not waste any more time chit-chatting,” he says. His eyes move from one sister to the other and each of us tense when we realize what is coming next. It never gets easier, somehow, no matter how often it happens. “Talia, you go at the end,” he says, grimacing as if he can barely stand to look at her. “Then Arianna, then Sophia.” Arianna looks momentarily perturbed, despite her claims to be above such “vanity”. “Nia,” my father says, “you are looking quite pretty today. Marlin is a lucky man.” My sister stares at the balcony floor. “And now,” he says, when it is only Cosima and I remaining. “Which of my daughters deserves prime position today? Whom shall win the honour of standing closest to me, your beloved father?” His gaze lingers on Cosima for a second, just long enough to give her hope. I wish he wouldn’t do this. “Cosima, you can go in second place,” he says. “And Muirgen, that face, that face! You are the winner, as it should be. Stand next to me, my love.”
I take my position behind him, lining up with my sisters. “Sorry,” I whisper when I accidentally brush against Cosima, but she doesn’t acknowledge me, just tosses her hair back as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. The opaque amber doors to the court are pushed open, and the chorus mermaids swim through, their voices blending together to create a wall of sound. The other mer-folk cheer at their arrival, taking to the water to dance, twirling with exquisite fragility.
“Oh, how lovely they all look,” Cosima says. “The maids in particular. See, Father? See how their pearls shine as they dance?” He affords her a rare smile and she lights up. “I feel sorry for the men,” she says to him. “How sad that they must live without such decoration.”
My father laughs at the thought. The men do not need to be beautiful. I watch them as they dance. They are not weighed down by pearls; their movements are a fraction faster than the mermaids, their limbs loose. Free.
The party continues and my family remains on the balcony, maintaining a dignified distance as we watch the revellers below. “It is late, Sea King,” my grandmother says when the light disappears, the water slicking black. “With your permission, I might put your daughters to rest. They are looking weary.”
“Yes, Thalassa,” my father says. “Some of the girls may go. It is essential they get adequate beauty sleep – particularly you, Talia.” My sister just nods. “But Nia and Muirgen, you will stay behind. I am sure your betrotheds would like to speak with you.”