The Surface Breaks(62)

“It is okay to be confused,” she says. “Understandable, in fact.”

How can she—

“I can hear you. There’s no need to look quite so terrified.”

These shattered feet unsteady as I stumble away from her, reaching for the door handle. Grasping it between my fingers. Twisting and twisting.

This door is locked. Turning back to her, almost blind with fear. Did she lock the door?

“Yes,” Flora says. “I didn’t want you running away from me before I could explain.”

But how did you do that? I can’t seem to breathe out properly, my inhale coming more quickly with each passing second.

Who are you? Are you— are you Viola?

“Viola?” she says. “You think Viola has returned from her watery grave to haunt you?” Viola, sinking past me, arms flailing. “Is someone feeling guilty?” Flora asks me. “You gave her up so quickly, did you not, to save him?” I did. I let Viola drown, and I did so without a second thought. Shame prickles my skin, breaking out like a rash.

Who are you?

“You haven’t guessed yet?” Flora presses two fingers to her throat, and the voice that emerges this time is different and yet familiar.

“Hello, Muirgen,” she says, but it is me talking, my lost words coming from Flora’s mouth. I am too stunned to try and run away so I close my eyes, listening to that which I thought I would never hear again.

“Don’t cry,” my voice says. “Don’t cry, little mermaid.” Flora’s features soften, melding into one another before they begin to melt away. It’s like water on a canvas, washing away the paint. And what is beneath? A beautiful face, a full body, but there is no tail this time. Fat, luscious legs, beautifully shaped. Pearls wound through her hair, gleaming. It is her.

The Sea Witch.

“I’ve told you before, my name is Ceto,” she says. “Don’t be rude. What a relief to be rid of that … insipid body. I don’t know how people pretend to be something they’re not; it takes so much effort. That was always my problem, ever since I was your age. I didn’t care about what people thought of me. I only wanted to be true to myself.” She laughs. “Your father didn’t like that, I can tell you.”

My father would kill you, Sea Witch, if he had his chance. I push my back into the door, fingers still grasping the handle in the hope it will open.

“You think I am afraid of your father?” she says, smirking at my attempts to flee. “You think I live in the Shadowlands because I fear his strength? No, little one. I live in the dark because I can be true there, and living true is the most important thing any woman can do.” She tilts her head to the side. “But it takes courage, and we are not taught how to be brave, are we? Women are taught to obey the rules.” One of her hair ornaments shimmers, catching my eye. So many pearls. One, two, three…

“Thirteen,” she says. “There are thirteen of them. More than any maid you have ever known, am I right? The Sea King used to say that thirteen was unlucky, but he was just annoyed that I was the first-born. My brother always did want to win at everything.”

Brother. I stop fumbling with the door.

“You’re catching on at last!” She claps her hands with genuine satisfaction. “He was a nightmare when we were growing up,” she says. “I had more natural powers than he did, that was obvious from the very beginning. He hated me because he was the boy, and boys were supposed to be more powerful. When Papa died, and my brother got his hands on that trident, I knew my days in the kingdom were numbered.” She stares at the ground, her face sombre suddenly. “I overheard him talking war tactics with his cronies, boasting about how he was going to be the one to finally wipe out the Salkas. I loved my father, I did, but I never agreed with his policy of exiling the Salkas to the Shadowlands. It was only breeding fear in the merfolk, resentment in the Salkas. And resentment cannot be contained for ever.”

So the Sea King sent his men to the Shadowlands… I prompt her impatiently.

“Yes,” she says, “But even that wasn’t enough for my brother. He was obsessed with blood purity, with all of us being the same. He wanted to exterminate them for good. You have to understand, the Salkas didn’t want war. They were just defending themselves against the kingdom’s attacks, but he didn’t care. He would kill them all, and then me in my turn, I presumed, even if I was salt-kin. Powerful women are often threatening to insecure men.” Her eyes darken. “So I left, stealing away from the palace in the dead of night and I went to the Salkas. And I told them I would help them. So I know what it’s like to leave my family behind me, little mermaid. We are not unalike, you and I,” she says, and I don’t know if that is supposed to be a compliment. “Although you were much younger than me of course. I was at least forty-five when I left. And it was fine,” she clears her throat, “living in the Shadowlands. I have had my poor Salkas to take care of, and I have had freedom. That’s more than most mermaids can hope for.”

Why did you let me do it? Anger is building inside me, caustic and sour. And why did you come tonight and distract him when you knew it was my last chance of survival?

“Would you really want a man so easily distracted?” she asks. “I barely had to try tonight. He was ripe for the picking.”