The Mermaid and the Heiress (A Retelling of The Little Mermaid)

2

My head felt abnormally heavy out of the water, but my heart danced, lighter than ever.

The sky was my first discovery. I could have peered into its fiery hues forever, the experience like peering into my own soul. But then my gaze jumped ahead, finding a vast, sparkling cluster.

A city. An actual, human city.

Gawking, I sank until only my bulging eyes were above the surface.

Shouts and laughter to my right led me to a grand ship.

A figure hovered over it on something flat, legs—legs!—apart, body gloved in material that showcased its femininity, raven mane flickering in the gentle breeze.

My first human! Not on land, not on a ship, but in midair.

Eager to spy, I swam closer until both palms rested against the slick side of the ship. The human leaped smoothly onto its high edge, tucking the still-hovering object under an arm. As she briefly turned her head, her hair fell away from a profile that stunned me into complete stillness.

"There's the princess!" a voice yelled. "Good entrance, birthday girl!"

There were several cheers.

So, a human princess. Still surrounded and favored, as my family had once been.

Her hand slashed a funny gesture through the air. For whatever reason, it made me smile.

I wished she would turn around, look down, but I knew I'd duck if she did.

"Everyone get started," the princess said loudly. "I'll be around."

Unfamiliar music joined the merry sounds of the crowd.

A peculiar clicking neared. I cocked my head, listening hard. Then a woman's voice, full of discomfort, spoke.

"Should Nathaniel be here?"

The princess did not like this. "Excuse me? Is this party for you?"

"I'm not trying to say anything—"

"But you are saying something. You think I don't remember the disaster that yours was? How you made sure he wouldn't be there when it was time for the photos? You think he didn't notice, once they started flashing around the house?"

"Brook, my intention wasn't to fight with you. Gwen is—"

Brook. The princess had a name. I mouthed it, touching my fingertips to my lips.

"Gwen is the last time I get fooled by talk, looks, or any of that other superficial—"

"I invited her."

"You what?"

"I thought it would be a good idea. You really do need a distraction."

"Not even a world-ending asteroid could distract me from how awful you are, Annette."

The commanding tone of another woman broke in. "What's all this about? Annette, see to the staff. Now." The clicking resumed, rapidly fading. "Nate, darling, how long have you been standing there? I believe you promised me a dance."

"Are the cookies still on the table?" Nate sounded young, his voice high and clear. Had he been eavesdropping, too?

"They are. You have an offer?"

"Three cookies for two songs?" he asked.

The woman chuckled. "Nice try."

Emotion caught in my throat as I was inexplicably reminded of Mother.

Their conversation moved away.

Alone, bowing her head, Brook cursed repeatedly.

Energy filled the air, prickling my skin. One look at the sky revealed it had darkened dramatically, its flames extinguished. A sudden gust slapped the wreath off my head, and I watched it disappear in dismay. Lightning zipped across the angered clouds. A dull roar rose, the waves with it, violently rocking the ship.

Storm, I thought stupidly, as drops rained down.

The humans were in a scattering panic overhead. I tried for some distance, hoping to extend my view, but kept getting slammed into the ship.

There was a scream and a loud splash behind me.

My heart froze as I glanced up—Brook wasn't there. Humans weren't the swimmers we were in the best circumstances, but in the middle of a storm?

No one seemed to realize it at first. Then—

"Brook?"

"Brook!"

"Brook!"

The winds ripped their shrieks away, casting us into a silent funnel of horror. Color bled from the scene until there was only gray.

Tail shoving against the ship's side, I dove in using every bit of weight I had. I spotted Brook immediately—sinking fast.

If reaching her was a struggle, towing her to the surface was the fight of my life. It was almost as if the entire ocean was rebelling against me, and I barely managed to hold on. Once both our heads hit air, Brook's limp against mine, it was obvious that we'd been pushed off-course—the ship was a distant beacon.

The shore, however, was a few waves away. I surged forward, and we were released onto the sand. I leaned over Brook, cupping her face in my hands. Her eyes were closed, the lids unmoving. Fearing the worst, I put a hand on her chest to force out the water. If it was a test of my power, I passed, and in those seconds before she coughed to consciousness, I memorized her with a hunger I didn't know I possessed.

Someone called out, confirming what I already knew: I had run out of time. A speck ran toward us from the darkness, something shielding it from the rain.

Brook cracked open eyes as black as her hair.

There was nothing else to do but flee. I leaped as far as I could into the significantly calmer waves and didn't surface again until I was at a safe distance.

It was with the strangest despair that I watched the two humans embrace. As they stood together, Brook heavily supported by the newcomer, I lowered into the water.

The princess looked over her shoulder, but I was gone.