from her home.
And then another, and another.
The Rebel King sent a small army to the Sea King’s gate. They
would pay for a daughter who could not bear children.
Rumors spread through the kingdoms of the Silver Queen and her
dozens of bloody children. That she ate them from the womb for her
blood magic. That she was cursed to never bear life of the Rebel King.
That the magic destroyed her from the inside and she would one day
burn.
Not this one, she promised, pressing her hands on her swollen
belly. She was bigger than the times before. Stronger. This child was
strong and healthy. She could feel it swim laps inside her. This time,
the king let her rest. She would not perform at court. She would not
leave her chambers.
The Silver Queen asked for her lady-in-waiting, Melaya, and no one
else. Just as well. The Rebel King wanted nothing to do with the queen
or her child. His forces were weakening in the Northern Seas and he
wouldn’t return for weeks.
It happened when the moon was gone from the surface. She felt the
pain come on too soon, and she held her swollen belly and prayed for
the child to stay inside. Melaya took her to the caves south of the
Golden Palace where the magic was raw. The king knew nothing of the
caves’ existence. Life there was strong, rooted deep in the earth.
There had been merpeople here once, their markings etched deep into
the walls.
The Daughter of the Sea screamed as her fins ripped in half,
parting to make way as the white head of her child crowned.
“Shhh,” Melaya urged her. They didn’t know who was nearby, and so
the Silver Queen bit down on her teeth and pushed. She closed her eyes
and willed the child to leave her until a small mermaid, no bigger
than her fist, came out.
All at once, the Queen felt empty and weak, a black void filling
where there had once been life. And the small mermaid child was not a
mermaid at all.
Melaya gasped.
“What is it?” Nieve cried, holding her arms out for the child.
“What’s happened?”
Melaya took a blade and cut off the lifeline that still attached
the child to its mother. She brushed the hair away from the child’s
face and bit her lip to keep from crying because she knew if the Rebel
King laid eyes on the child, he would not stand it.
“Let me see her,” said the Silver Queen.
In her arms, she could see the girl’s deformity. Her teeth as
sharp as needles when they drew blood from her mother’s milk. The left
side of the child’s body was smooth as pearl, her hair grew in white
tufts, and her scales were white as the stars. It was as if there were
two halves to her. The right side was bald, the skin puckered as if it
were burned.
“Gwenivere,” the Silver Queen said. “I will call her Gwenivere.”
•••
The Rebel King had many sons, but none were of his Queen.
They were brown as the earth with eyes like golden suns, swimming
and fighting through the palace. They said after the Silver Queen lost
the last child, the king no longer touched her. Her madness was too
much for the king to withstand.
And she let them have their whispered stories, as she left the
palace every night and swam to the caves where Melaya and Gwenivere
waited for her.
Sometimes she came with food, shark fins and tentacles.
Other times she came with a maiden. The first one was young and
happy to be in the company of the queen. She took the queen’s hand
eagerly and followed deep, deep down into the ancient caves. The
maiden stared at the creatures she’d never seen before, their sharp
teeth and glowing faces. She traced her fingers along anemones that
glowed with inner light and tickled her skin.
When they reached the mouth of the cave, she hesitated, feeling
the water turn icy.
“What’s in there?” the maiden asked.
“My treasure,” the queen said with a lovely smile as she put a
hand to the maiden’s chest and put her to sleep.
It wasn’t supposed to hurt. All Nieve needed was some of the
girl’s life. Just a bit of blood to heal Gwenivere. But the girl woke
up and screamed and screamed, and with another touch of the queen’s
hands, she was reduced to surf.
They tried again and again until Gwenivere had nothing left but a
thin scar along the side of her body. She was as beautiful as any
mermaid in the court. She laughed and sang with Melaya, always
wondering where her mother went off to and longed for her return.
Gwenivere never noticed where the pretty maidens went, but she woke to
the burst of bubbles in the sea and reached out with her tiny hands to
touch them.
•••
They noticed.
Mermaids missing from the harems, mermaids missing from their
homes.
The Silver Queen sat silently on the throne, knowing she had to
stay away from her child to keep her safe. She kept her secret
treasure close, marrying her to a strong merman, a herald of the
Eastern Seas who relished the magic of Gwenivere’s hands.
“Patience,” she told Gwenivere, “for soon we will rule the entire
seas.”
•••
“My king,” Nieve said. She had not spoken in so long that the
Rebel King marveled at the sound of her voice. “You know quite well
who is behind these disappearances. For who else would want to take
the daughters of our court except the man you took me from?”
It was easy, stoking the fire that was already lit. The Rebel King
armed himself with his best men and his golden armor and charged the
true king.
The Silver Queen was left alone on the throne, and she watched it
carefully, patiently. She resumed the feasts, but this time, no one
would die. Instead, she gave them gifts-shark skin armor and jewels
from the king’s caves and food. There was always food for the people
on the outer lands, the ones as skinny as coral. They praised her
kindness, her beauty, and they loved her.
When the Rebel King Amur did not return, they loved her still,
bowing and willing to give their lives for their generous Silver
Queen. And she drank their love the way they drank her gifts. From
miles and miles came strange tribes of the sea, uniting with her
against her father, the true king. They heard of his heir, King
Karanos, leading his father’s armies. But Nieve did not fear her
father or the brother she had never known.
When her father came to the Golden Palace, he demanded she unite
with the northern kingdom.
“I am your eldest child, Father,” she said. “Will you take the
trident from Karanos and give it to me?”
She waited, staring at the frightful face of the man who sent her
away and now wanted her back.
“I didn’t think so,” she said, when he answered with silence.
They came from the shadows, each and every one of her army. They
surrounded the king and his small fleet in the great hall of the
Golden Palace.
“What are you doing?” he said, succumbing to the fear he’d always
felt around her. “My son is on his way. He’s bringing the entire Sea
Guard.”
He babbled, twisting and turning. But the king was too old, and
the sword in his hand weighed him down.
“Let him come, Father,” she told him. “I’ve been waiting.”
NOW
Chrysilla doesn’t scream.
But I do.
I know I shouldn’t because if they hear us, we’re dead.
But I do.
I grit my teeth as I feel the crystal of the scepter break her
skin. Her blood flecks my hands, gushing from the wound.
And then brilliant light floods the core of the crystal, hot and