Sea Witch(77)

Tante Hansa was taken by age, having lived out the remainder of her life in Havnestad despite her magic. Safe from banishment because of her role in saving Nik on that awful day. Hansa sent me gifts until the end—enchanting her own magical tomes to be waterproof before hurling them into the deep. All the secrets that she didn’t dare teach me when I was a girl, now at my fingertips. Almost as if she knew I were alive beneath the muck. And maybe she did—though I cannot surface.

Iker: lost in the North Sea. Victim to the king of the whales, who grew tired of being his prey.

Nik is gone too, but he lived out his days as he should have. How I had hoped he would. Marriage, children, a successful reign, and beloved by all.

I miss him. I miss everyone. I strangely miss her sometimes, too—Anna, Annemette, whoever she was.

Alone, there is a quiet under these waters that no one above will ever know. A quiet that makes me miss even the most painful of sounds.

But one day, I receive a visitor. Not from land, but by sea.

A little mermaid. Brave girl, with golden curls topped with a wreath of sea lilies and a complexion as clear as fresh milk with cheeks blushed at the apples. Her eyes are an earnest blue—as icy as the fjords up north.

As icy as Iker’s once were.

But rather than the confidence that flashed in his, her eyes hold a determination warring with fear. For such a fearsome creature I’ve become.

So immediately I know.

Yes, only one thing would cause a mermaid like her to brave my presence.

I stare down at her as she approaches, tentacles mounded beneath me—a throne if ever there was one—a web of ghost-gray curls swirling about my face. Her tail swishes under the weight of eight oysters, each showing her rank. For a moment, I think she will retreat, but instead she holds out her arms, which had been clutching a bouquet of bloodred roses.

“Please accept these flowers grown in my garden, a gift for the great sea witch—”

All it takes is a shake of my head, and her voice immediately cuts off. I glide toward her, and to her credit, she stays still.

“I know what you want,” I say, and the girl’s eyes blink with my words. Her arms flutter down, the roses sinking to the seafloor. “You want to chase the love of a human boy on legs of your own.”

Her answer is immediate. “He already loves me, this I know.”

Dubious. “And do you know this boy’s name?”

“Not his official name—it is long and drawn out, five names in one—but the other sailors, they called him Niklas.”

Crown Prince Asger Niklas Bryniulf ?ldenburg V.

Nik’s grandson.

I grit my teeth and set my jaw, glancing down my nose at the girl before me. A princess. One of the sweet singing girls who perform often at the palace. Shows to which I’m never invited. I can hear the music, though—the sea king’s castle isn’t far. If I squint past my strange forest, I can see the peculiar blue radiance surrounding the palace grounds. It looks almost as if a piece of clear sky fell from the heavens to the navy depths of the sea and mingled with the brine.

“Please,” the girl starts when I say nothing. Though she’s desperate, there’s a thoughtful quality to her face—both her head and heart are feeding her bravery. “You are the only one with the magic to change me—it’s been banned for so long. Please, even if it is just for a day, I must see him. My heart cannot bear to be away from my Niklas.”

Looking in her eyes, I am sixteen again, learning of Nik’s love for the very first time on that beach. Kissing him before our lives changed forever.

But now I am old enough to know better than to listen to my memories.

And I know she doesn’t know what she is asking. The price: the cost to her family, her loved ones, the magic. The pain: physical, mental, familial, magical. It is too much.

“The heart can bear many things, child, and love is one of them.”

The little mermaid reaches for my hand, but thinks better of it at the last moment. As if my touch will burn. Maybe it will. “Please—I will do anything.”

I again think of Nik. His laughter. His love. How long it had been there, waiting for me to see it. There in his dark eyes.

Before he passed, Nik would visit me sometimes, walking the cove’s edge, fancy boots marked by my black water. Then he’d tell me stories of the world above, trusting the tide to carry his tale. Maybe he knew I was alive too. A friend, a love, to the end.

I hold the girl’s stare. Her eyes are no longer fearful, determination and need filling them in a rush. It is impressive, I suppose—no one has ever braved my lair with such a request. She wants this, more than anything.

More than anything she can promise me.

But I will need something more in return. The magic may no longer require a life, but it still demands a sacrifice. In the years since, I have learned this, and much else.

And I know what I must take.

“I must know that you will only tell the truth above,” I say finally.

The little mermaid is so surprised that it takes her a moment to understand what I mean: that I will help her. When she does, her reply is immediate.

“I will—”

“Do not answer so quickly. What you ask is a serious request.” The girl concedes, her lips drawing shut, thoughtfulness sewn tightly into her skin. Good. “Once you have become a human, you can never become a mermaid again. You can never see the palace again. Your father. Your mother. Your sisters. Everything you know and love—save for this prince—will no longer be yours.”