The Sea King's Daughter (6 page)

I shook my head, overwhelmed by it all. I didn't want to believe the sea sorceress's story, but it all fit. It explained why my grandmother hated me, why I didn't belong in my own family, why no one ever talked about my mother. What the sea sorceress said was true. They'd all lied to me.

"I can't go back," I said. "How can I go back to the palace now?"

"Maybe I can help you," the sea sorceress said. "I loved your mother. I've taught myself some magic. What else can I find to do, exiled here, all alone? Tell me what you want, Nyx. I'll see what I can do."

"I want -- I want --" The words poured from my mouth. "I want legs, so I can go ashore. I want to marry a human. He's the most wonderful creature I've ever seen. I'll die without him, really I will."

The sea sorceress didn't answer. She stared at me with a distant look on her face.

"Please, can you help me?"

Slowly, she nodded. "How strange. I never imagined it would come in handy . . . . Listen to me, Nyx. You must be sure this is what you want."

"It is."

She turned her back on me and swam across the chamber, to the same clay casket where she'd found my mother's bracelet. When she returned, she held a small silver flask. "I made this years ago," she said, "after your grandmother sent me here. I wanted to go someplace where no one could find me, where no one could follow. I thought that perhaps, out of the sea, I might find a new life."

She thrust the silver flask into my hands. "I lacked the courage to drink this. Perhaps you'll be brave -- or foolish -- enough. The gods know I understand why you want to do it."

I wrapped my palm around the slim, round container, feeling its weight. Its maker had pressed the image of a blazing sun into its center. "This will give me legs?" I asked.

"I think so. But I must warn you -- once you drink it, there is no going back. You may never return to the sea."

I nodded. "I understand."

"Do you? Once you are human, the sea will become your enemy. You must not even let a drop of salt water fall upon your skin, lest it scorch the flesh from your bones." Her eyes blazed, and I took a quick, frightened breath.

"Even speaking of your life in the sea will bring you near to death," she went on. "When you choose, Nyx, you choose forever. Do you see why I couldn't drink my own potion? To become human, you must renounce everything you've ever been. You must abandon the only world you've ever known."

I drew myself up. "I don't care. There's nothing here for me, not now. I'll never look back, never."

The sea sorceress sighed. "I hope you're right, Nyx. I hope you will never regret your choice. You must go up on the beach to drink it, and drain every drop no matter how badly it burns."

I clutched the silver flask. "I won't regret it. Thank you. Thank you so much." Impulsively, I gave her a quick, one-armed hug.

She closed her eyes and squeezed me back. "May the gods watch over you," she said. "May you find happiness, as I never did."

I swam toward Lysander's island. With each stroke, I drew further and further away from my father's palace. This time the journey felt particularly bittersweet. I noticed everything -- the way the sea cradled me, the salty taste of the water as I breathed it in, the flutter of gills against my neck, the scenery on the ocean floor. I saw an octopus, his thick, suction-cupped tentacles streaming out behind him. I saw a reef bristling with clams and mussels, a grotto full of algae and sponges, a shark with its escort of striped pilot fish.

Could I leave the sea forever? I'd always hated its darkness, and the dreamy quietness, but now I remembered how I loved to explore the bottom of the sea and swim with Ios in the waves. I'd never get to that again.

Worse, I would never see my father -- no, the man I'd thought was my father -- or Thetis again. I'd never even said goodbye. But I knew that if I delayed or turned back I wouldn't go through with it. I'd lose my chance forever. I'd live out the rest of my life with a family that wasn't mine after all. I swam on.

I thought of Lysander instead. I imagined touching his face again, curling up in the shelter of his arms, and seeing him smile just for me. I thought of the sun, blazing above me, of dancing on human legs, of discovering birds and trees and all of the other creatures of the land.

Those dreams pushed me up onto the beach of Lysander's island. It was late in the evening, almost dark. The long strip of sand was deserted. From the village I heard faint music and the sound of laughter. I pulled myself out of the foaming breakers and onto the shore. I kept the sea sorceress' flask clasped tightly in my hand. The pebbles and broken shells scraped against my skin, but I was numb to pain.

In a protected corner of the beach, far from the waves and the wet sand, I stopped behind a cluster of rocks. The gray dusk hid me well. The wind dried the seawater on my skin. Now was the moment. My hands trembled as I pulled the silver plug from the flask. I'd squeezed it so hard I'd imprinted the raised image of the sun in the flesh of my palm.

I brought the flask to my lips.

Shuddering, I lowered it again.

No one and nothing moved on the beach. I was all alone. Nobody could make the decision for me. The sea sorceress' words echoed through my mind: "Once you drink it, there is no going back. You may never return to the sea."

I remembered how, when I was a little girl, Father used to hold me in his lap while he heard disputes in the throne room. I thought of Thetis' long, convoluted stories about goddesses and mortals and beautiful little mermaids. She told me those stories at night when I felt sad, drawing them out until I fell asleep at last. I even remembered my grandmother's few small kindnesses: how she'd dressed me, once, for my tenth birthday party, and gently combed my hair.

Thinking of these good times, I almost tipped the vial and let the contents spill out onto the sand. Then I saw Thetis' glowing face as she glanced up at her new husband. I saw my father place Thetis' hand in the prince's, giving my sister away like a second-best tiara. I heard my grandmother say, "Your mother would be so ashamed of you." I remembered the sea-sorceress telling me, "King Nereus is not your father." I remembered how miserable I was, how full of spite and venom, how out of place I always felt.

I raised the silver flask to my lips and drank.

CHAPTER NINE

The sea sorceress' potion exploded in my mouth. It scorched my tongue and throat as it burned a trail to my stomach. It tasted salty, metallic, and raw, like marrow sucked from a broken bone. I swallowed the liquid in three quick gulps and cast the empty flask onto the sand.

For a long moment, nothing happened. I wasn't sure whether to feel dismay or relief.

The change began with a faint tingling at my waist, where my scales shaded into pale skin. The tingle grew to a painful itch. When I touched my abdomen, my fingers came away silver with shedding scales. The itch worked down into my tail. I scrubbed hard with my palms and pressed my fingers into the burning, peeling skin.

My tail turned dry and brittle. It itched deep down under my scales where I couldn't scratch. I bit my bottom lip to stifle my cries. My silver star-scales turned black and flaked away. The skin underneath dried and curled. The flesh beneath felt raw and unfinished. Pinpricks of blood welled up, and I wiped them away. The cartilage at the base of my tail thickened and bulged as my caudal fin took on the shape of human feet.

Tearing pain shot down the center of my tail. I doubled over in the sand and gasped for air. My tail seemed to split in two; I wrenched the halves apart. The ripping sound sent shivers up my spine. Somewhere far off someone was sobbing. She let out a series of high, keening cries, like an orphaned baby seal. Minutes passed before I realized that I was the one who cried. I touched my cheeks. My fingertips came away wet. I stared at the wetness with awe. Always until now, when I'd cried, my tears were lost in the great salty sea.

I drew my new-split tail up to my chest. My legs smelled like decay, like rotting flesh. I hadn't expected anything like this. I'd imagined myself instantly transformed, made clean and new and whole. I hadn't realized how much it would hurt to be reborn.

After a long time, I sat up again. I gazed down on the wreckage that was my new legs. Shreds of scales and skin still clung to them. They stung in the cool night air. But beneath the swelling and the rawness, I could make out two shapely human appendages. I bent my knees -- I had knees! -- and touched my new feet, counting the tiny curling toes with awe. My neck, too, was smooth to the touch; my gills had melted into my skin and disappeared.

I scooped up a handful of sand and used it to scrub at my legs. The grains hurt against my tender flesh, but I didn't care. I couldn't let Lysander see me like this. I wiped the sand from my palms and ran my fingers through my hair. My nails caught in the tangles. I looked toward the sea. I longed to dive in and let the clean, cool water soothe the dirt and shredded scales away.

Then  I remembered. The sea was poisonous to me now. I could never go back.

The village behind me loomed black and silent against a charcoal sky. Glancing up at the rocky hill to the west of the beach, I saw the manor house with its elegant columns. A candle flickered in one of the windows.

Did Lysander live there? I couldn't picture him in one of the modest homes down near the beach. No, he was a prince, I was certain of that -- maybe just a merchant prince, but a prince nonetheless.

I didn't think beyond finding Lysander, or imagine what would happen next. I would climb up to the grand villa and announce myself.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows and scrambled to my feet. I tried to stand on my newborn legs. But the instant I put weight on them, knives plunged into the soles of my feet and hard, shooting pain lanced through my bones. It was like standing on a bed of spiny sea urchins. I collapsed back onto the sand and moaned in frustration. What good were legs, if I couldn't even stand upright?

I scowled. I was as helpless on land now as when I'd had a tail.

I curled up again and closed my eyes, conjuring up an image of Lysander's face on the back of my eyelids. This was all for him. If I could be with him, all this pain would be worthwhile. I had to remember that.

After a time, I fell asleep. My slumber was fevered and strange, full of monsters. Once my father's sad, drawn face swam through my dreams, then blurred and faded away. My head throbbed, and when I touched my forehead it was so hot it scorched my palm. I laid my cheek on the cool sand and dozed off again.

I woke to the sound of voices.

I struggled up to squat behind a cluster of rocks. Peeking around the edges, I saw them -- Lysander and his friend, the one who'd called to him from the beach to go and get his supper. They paused just a few yards from where I hid. Both wore short tunics and long cloaks of purple wool edged with dark geometric designs.

"If you'd only tell me what's troubling you," Lysander's friend was saying.

"It's nothing, Phidias, nothing but a passing mood." Lysander kicked at a pebble on the ground. The stone skipped over the sand, skidded between the rocks, and struck me cleanly on one brand-new shin.

"Oh!" I cried, and stood up. My knees quavered and threatened to buckle. Pain lanced through my legs, but I ignored it.

Lysander and his friend stared at me, their eyes wide. "Great Zeus!" Lysander exclaimed. "Where did you come from?"

I tried to speak, but no sound came out. My tongue felt swollen and my throat seemed to close off, from thirst or fear, I wasn't sure. I leaned against the rock and stared back.

There was no recognition in Lysander's eyes, but at least I saw concern there. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"What's your name? Where are you from?"

I still couldn't speak. Lysander took a step toward me and I shrank back, suddenly afraid. "I won't hurt you," he said. He unslung his heavy cloak. "Here, let me. . . . You must be cold."

I allowed him to settle the cloak around my shoulders. For the first time, I realized my nakedness made Lysander uneasy. His friend Phidias, too -- he hung back, behind the rocks, averting his eyes from my bare breasts.

No one wore clothing under the sea, and I'd forgotten that human women always covered themselves. It seemed a foolish custom, but I didn't protest as Lysander adjusted the cloak's deep purple folds to conceal my body. The fabric felt rough against skin that had
never known the touch of cloth. Lysander's fingers brushed my neck as he lifted my hair out from under the cloak and let it fall free. "There," he said. "That's better."

Up close, and fully conscious, Lysander was even more handsome than I remembered. He towered over me; my head came up only as far as his chest. He tipped my chin up so that my eyes met his. "Now, little one. Tell me where you came from."

"I -- I was -- " My voice came out a pitiful croak, and I cleared my throat. "I came from --"

I'd been about to tell him I came from the sea, that I the one who'd rescued him from the shipwreck. The word "mermaid" lingered on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't say it. Instead, my throat closed and I could not breathe. I tried to cry out, but I could not. My hand flew to my throat, where the muscles moved convulsively under my fingers, then stood as rigid as iron pipes.