Part of Your World (Twisted Tales)(20)

“Hey, you! Who are you? You’re not supposed to be upstairs!”

It wasn’t one of the now-multitudinous soldiers; it was a rather pretty but shark-eyed maid. Ariel didn’t react; she just stood there, unsure what to do. She couldn’t even make up an excuse for being there—or at least make it be understood.

The maid grabbed a passing guard. He didn’t seem to have any interest in either one of them and tried to continue his rounds, but the maid sort of shook him at Ariel.

“Hey! She’s not supposed to be up here. She could be a spy!”

The guard grunted in displeasure but started toward Ariel.

The Queen of the Sea dropped her laundry and ran.

Ariel wondered vaguely how her new legs would react to this new situation.

Just fine, apparently.

She ducked between footmen, dodged through couples, threw herself around corners. There was a second stairway she remembered, toward the back of the residency tower, which the chambermaids used. The one she probably should have chosen to begin with. She put a hand out to the sandstone wall to steady herself as she began her first descent with new legs. The firmness and familiarity of the rock gave her courage. She urged her feet down the steps like ceremonial dolphins pulling her golden chariot in a circuit race.

“Halt!” came a voice from behind her—along with the sound of polished boots striking stone.

Ariel panicked and practically fell onto the landing. She wasted a moment trying to decide whether to continue down another narrow flight to the sub-basement where the wine cellars were, along with another exit to the outside. But that was probably what the soldiers expected her to do.

She plunged ahead instead, toward where she remembered the grand ballroom was.

There was less chaos here, and fewer people. But just as Ariel thought she had escaped the last of them, she saw someone looming, blocking her escape at the end of the painted hall.

Carlotta.

The friendly maid who had tried to show Ariel the proper way to bathe. Who had taken it upon herself to pick out an outfit for the mermaid and show her how to dress nicely. With the floppy bow. Who hadn’t been upset when Ariel made a fool of herself using human things the wrong way—who had only found it delightful, and a wonderful curative for the often moody prince.

Carlotta’s black hair was still thick though shot through with grey, and in its usual bun—and not under the bright red kerchief Ariel remembered. Her bodice and new little hat were starched white cotton, pure and strict. But the strangely formal uniform upset Ariel less than the look in Carlotta’s eyes when she saw the mermaid bolting toward her.

Surprise.

Realization.

Suspicion.

Their moment of glowering silence was interrupted by voices down the hall:

“Where did she go?”

“Did you see her?”

“You check downstairs, I’ll check this floor.”

They would be upon her in a moment.

Carlotta reached out and threw open a small door: a broom closet, its edges cleverly concealed in the overly ornate golden moldings.

She raised an eyebrow at Ariel.

The mermaid decided, for no reason she could logically explain beyond the past kindness shown her, to trust the scowling woman.

She dove in, trying not to wince as the door was slammed behind her. A cloud of dust rose from the brooms and rags and other cleaning implements. A distinct odor of mold and dry rot assailed her nose.

She tried not to sneeze, holding her face and nose with both hands, pressing her palms into her cheeks.

Queen of the Sea, she thought. Look at me now.

Voices outside the closet, muffled but loud:

“Carlotta—have you seen a maid? She wasn’t authorized to be upstairs, and…”

“Oh, you don’t mean the pale one, about yea high, skinny as a bean?” Carlotta sounded exasperated and very, very believable.

“Yes, with the blue skirts…”

“Blast that girl. She’s new. Not gifted with much besides her girlish figure, I don’t mind saying. You know, up here.”

Ariel frowned despite knowing it was a lie. She could practically see Carlotta tapping her head in illustration.

“I told her the wash was for Lord Francese’s manservant, not the lord himself. And then she disappeared. Should have known.”

“There is a problem of security in the castle, Carlotta. The spies…”

“If that girl’s a spy, I’m the pope,” Carlotta snorted. “She’s just a pretty dumb thing from the country. I’ll give her a good talking to when I find her and lock her in her room without supper.”

At this, the guard laughed. “You’ve never withheld a meal from anyone—or anything—in your life. You’ll probably scold her and then force five rolls on her to fatten her up. But you’ve got to talk to her. Princess Vanessa…”

“Say no more. It will be resolved, or she will go.”

“Thank you, Carlotta. I’ll inform my men.”

Ariel waited for the clicking footsteps to fade, then waited some more.

Just when she thought it might be safe to open the door a crack, it was thrown wide open. A serious, annoyed-looking Carlotta filled the entire frame and blocked most of the light.

“Come with me,” she ordered, in a tone she had never used on Ariel before.