CHAPTER TWENTY
Terror is scratching its fingernails across my heart, searching for blood. Flora climbs out of bed. She does so with a languid grace that suggests she is used to being nude, and sees no shame in it. I stare at her naked body, those long legs and brown nipples, frowning.
“Very modest of you,” she says. “You have become accustomed to the human ways.” She opens the chest of drawers in the corner of the room, rifling through its contents. “His-and-hers bathrobes,” she says, as she wraps a white gown around her. “I wasn’t sure this man could become more of a cliché, and yet here we are.”
She is being very loud, I think as a wooden clothes hanger drops to the floor. She will wake Oliver.
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” she says. She walks to the other side of the bed, a hand to his forehead. Unlike when I touched him, Oliver does not move. His breathing becomes slower, his body dropping into the mattress as if he’s sinking. “They always fall asleep afterwards; it’s pathetic how little stamina they have. You didn’t miss much with this one, I can assure you.”
Miss much? What is she talking about?
“He was adequate,” Flora amends. “Concerned with his own pleasure, and annoyed I didn’t seem to think it all a great honour. Male fragility can be exhausting at times, can it not?” She sits on the bed, grinning at me.
“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.”
Why did you help me? I need to know, my whole body tense as it waits for her to respond.
Her smile fades suddenly. “I failed your mother. I couldn’t fail you too.”
My mother. Two steps, and I am in front of her. I catch her by the throat, cat-quick. Squeezing hard, for I am not afraid of her anymore. I will have the truth, at last. Tell me. Tell me everything.
She removes my fingers, her touch gentle. “I knew Muireann of the Green Sea. Not very well. She was just a baby when both my brother and I were into our fortieth decade, but her father was a favourite of the court so she was in the palace often as a child. She was like you, that same red hair, that same beautiful voice. A sensitive soul.” You’re so like your mother, young Muirgen. So like her in every way. “My brother was obsessed with her, ever since she came of age at twelve.” Ceto shudders. “He kept badgering Muireann’s father for permission, and he was told to wait, that a few years wouldn’t hurt. Your grandfather wasn’t afraid of the Sea King. Mac Lir was too well respected in the kingdom to be bullied into submission.”
But my mother agreed to marry the Sea King. To end the war.
“She came to me first, arrived in the Shadowlands demented with grief over her brother, demanding to know which of the Salkas had slain him. As if it was the Salkas’ fault!”
But it was their fault. They killed Uncle Manannán, and they did it with glee. It was their fault that all of this happened.
“You still believe that to be true?” Ceto says. “I don’t know what happened to your uncle, but my Salkas swore to me that they had no knowledge of his death. It did seem rather convenient, I always thought. Manannán disappears, the person Muireann loved most in the world. People do funny things when they’re grieving, don’t they? And the Sea King knew what Muireann was like, he knew that she didn’t have a taste for war. I think he bet upon her doing anything to regain peace in the kingdom.”
I try and connect the jagged edges of her jigsaw, assemble them in a way that makes sense. Is she saying that—
“I’m not saying anything,” she cuts across me. “All I know is that the Salkas just wanted to be left alone in peace to live their lives, and yet their mere existence was enough to inflame my brother.” The Sea Witch exhaled loudly. “I tried to explain to Muireann that this war was not of my doing, nor of my desire; and thus I could not end it, no matter how hard she begged me. I did not know the measures she would take next.”
She married the Sea King. I try and imagine her, fifteen and wild with sorrow, betrothed to a man old enough to be her father. The poor little mermaid.
“She was reasonably content for a time,” the Sea Witch says. “She had children, you and your sisters. Word reached me in the Shadowlands of how much she loved you.”
But not enough. It was bad enough, as a child, knowing my mother had been reckless. But since learning of her relationship with Alexander, it has become clear that she was heartless too. My father was right all along. She did abandon us. She did. The melancholy that has been my shadow since the day my mother left me tugs at my hand like a small child demanding attention.
“That’s not true,” Ceto says fiercely. “She didn’t mean to fall in love with a human; she meant to save his life. There was an accident, you see, and Muireann found this man in the wreckage.”
It was Oliver’s father, wasn’t it? The paintings, my mother’s face replicated over and over again. Hair so red and eyes so blue.
“Yes,” the Sea Witch says, watching me closely. “The shipwreck occured a few months after you were born. The man, Alexander, found himself rescued by a beautiful woman. They were attracted to each other, certainly, and like so many before them they mistook their lust for love. My Salkas said they saw her regularly sneaking away to the surface after that to go and meet this man, all the way up to your first birthday. They had decided to make things more permanent when…”
When what? Tell me more.
“What else is there to tell? He wasn’t good enough for Muireann either, this Alexander.” She gestures at Oliver, still asleep. “This bloodline does produce weak men, but I’ve found that weak men are often attracted to strong women. In the beginning, anyway. In time they come to resent that same strength they professed to love. They try to put you back in your place.” Just like Eleanor said, in that room of paintings.
Was it you? The questions are tearing through me. Was it you who gave my mother legs, so she could seduce Oliver’s father? Did you take her tongue as payment too? I picture my mother travelling to the Shadowlands, her fear pressing her forward as my own has done. My mother, on a beach with Oliver’s father, dancing rings of blood around him.
“No,” Ceto says. “Muireann of the Green Sea had no need of such help from me.”
I don’t understand. I bang one of my fists against the door behind me in frustration.
“Muireann could do it herself. Your mother was able to shed her tail like a snake when she reached the shore, and transform back into a mermaid the moment that her temporary legs tasted salt.”
What? I sink to the floor, pulling my knees into my chest. You mean—
“Yes.” Ceto remains still. “Your mother had powers. Impressive ones, at that.”
But that’s impossible. I shake my head. Muireann of the Green Sea was only a mermaid.
“All mermaids used to have powers, Muirgen.” Ceto hands me a towel to wrap around my feet. I hadn’t even noticed the wounds had re-opened, spilling their guts on to the floor. I look at them in disgust. What I would give to have my tail back. “The powers would develop the day we came of age, when our bodies decided that we were women now. But we were told such powers weren’t mermaid-like. We were told that no mer-man would want to be bonded with us if we were more powerful than they were. They warned us that our powers made us too loud. Too shrill. And so women became quiet because we were promised that we would be happier that way. And our powers were lost. And it happened so quickly too. That which we take for granted can so easily be taken away from us, if we do not remain vigilant.”
I reach out for something to steady myself, shooting stars bursting bright in my chest. But not yours, Ceto? Your powers remained.
She laughs, showing perfect teeth. “No, not mine. I was too stubborn for that.”
And my mother? I feel a growing sense of pride, something I have never associated with my mother. My mother didn’t give up either?
“Muireann was stubborn too, but she was better at hiding it than I was. No one even knew about her powers, especially not the Sea King. He would never have married her if he had been aware. But she only had enough powers for herself; she couldn’t ensure the safety of all you six girls as well. That’s why she came to me, begging for help again. She wanted to flee from your father and take you with her, onto land. But I could not perform that spell without extracting a price, like I did with you,” Ceto says. “The magic is too deep for that. Muireann would not allow my blade to touch your flesh, nor that of your sisters. And so, she let Alexander go. And she returned to the kingdom. She wanted to be home in time for her baby’s birthday, she said.”
But we were told that—
“I see your sisters brought you the blade,” she interrupts my thoughts. The knife is still clasped in my right hand. I hadn’t even noticed. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to do what was needed of you. You are too soft.”
If you thought I was soft, why did you perform the magic? If you were so keen to appease my mother’s memory, why did you do the one thing to me that she didn’t want you to do?
“Your mother did not realize how desperate her youngest daughter would become.” The Sea Witch bends her neck to one side, then the other, and I listen to the cracking joints. “I believe she would have approved of my decision, or understood it, at the very least. And I hoped that Oliver would fall for you, I really did, but I told myself that if he did not, I would come back for you. I would offer you another way.”
Another way? I am too tired to do more than stare at her sullenly. I will die when the sun rises. You have doomed me to my death.
“No,” she says. “You have a choice.”
What choice? I am not used to choices.
“You can go to the deck,” she says, brightening at my flicker of interest, however reluctant. “As the sun begins to rise – and it will rise very soon, little mermaid, do not be mistaken, my powers cannot stop the day from turning over – you can take the dagger and pierce your own heart with it.”
No. I feel winded, as if she has sucked all the breath out of me and left me panting for air.
“Your body will fall into the sea,” she says. “Where my Salkas will be waiting for you. They will take you to the Shadowlands. I will make the necessary preparations there.” She bends down to where I am sitting on the floor and puts a hand on my hair with such tenderness that something unspools inside of me, softly. “I will confess that it seems a shame to see this red hair turned green.”
I shove her away from me. I could never be a Salka.
“And why not?”
(The Salkas are different to you and I, my father said, they are not of royal birth. Do not mistake them for anything less than pathetic and vicious creatures that must be controlled at all costs. My sisters and I nodding in agreement.)
I look at her directly to emphasize my argument. The Salkas are ugly and angry and—
“And don’t they have something to be angry about?” Ceto says, her lip curling in disgust. “You think your life has been difficult, Princess Muirgen. You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
I try and stand, my hand reached out to her. Begging for leniency. But the Salkas—
“The Salkas are the jilted, the victims, the orphans, and the abused.” Ceto’s eyes flash in irritation. “They deserve your sympathy. It is a hard thing to be a woman in this world, whether beneath the sea or if you break the surface. You had a taste of that tonight, did you not?” (Rupert’s hand around my throat, the other pulling at my undergarments, seeking his pleasure without permission. I don’t think he would have enjoyed it as much if I hadn’t struggled.) “The Salkas have endured much worse than that,” Ceto continues. “There was no one there to hear them scream no. Or maybe there was; but that no wasn’t deemed worthy of being heard. Maybe they heard it and they didn’t care. A woman’s no can so easily be turned into a yes by men who do not want to listen.”
I picture myself up on the deck, raising the knife, stabbing it deep, vomiting blood through my teeth. My sisters screaming. I can’t do that to my own body. I cannot inflict any more harm upon myself.
“Gaia,” she says, using my real name for the first time. “I am not sure a return to your father’s kingdom is a good idea. I told Muireann the same, when she came to me on your birthday. I warned her. Go to Alexander, I said, and I will find a way of getting the children to you afterwards. I promised her that I would find a way, and yet she went back to the kingdom’s nursery anyway. She couldn’t bear the thought of missing your birthday, I would wager. That was her mistake.” Ceto takes a deep breath. “It was her last mistake. My brother made sure of that.”
What do you—
Wait. Wait.
My father, his spear finding the nearest fish. Watching as it squirmed to death on a splinter-point. Do you know what I do to little mermaids who fall in love with humans?
“Yes,” Ceto says, as I curl into the foetal position on the floor. I don’t want this to be true, and yet somehow, deep within me, I think I had always known this was the case but I couldn’t admit it. It was too dangerous to do so. “Your father is a proud man.” Ceto says. “He would have rather seen her dead than in love with someone else.”
Did my… did my grandmother know?
“Your grandmother is afraid,” Ceto says gently. “She has always been afraid. She suspects that the Sea King might have played a hand in it, just as she suspects that Manannán’s death might have been more complicated than was presented to her. But she doesn’t ask too many questions, or seek to know too much. It is safer for her that way.”
Stop talking. I can’t listen any more. My hope breaks inside me, blistering, setting me on flame. I am bent double with the grief, my body heaving with silent sobs. My mother is dead and at the hands of my father. My mother, and everything she sacrificed for us. My mother, who only wanted to protect us. She came back for my birthday. She came back for me. And my father told us she didn’t love us. He said that she was a bad mother, that she abandoned us. He let us believe that we were easy to abandon, because that kept us small. Scared. Easy to control. Something hardens inside me, and I allow it to happen. Nay, I welcome it. I will be hard. I will be made of ice. He allowed us to believe that it was our fault. I raise my head, and meet the Sea Witch’s gaze.
I am angry, Ceto. I have never felt so much anger. Are you happy now?
“Tick tock, little mermaid,” she says. “Time is running out.” She takes my hands in hers. “Like all women, you have the power within you, no matter what your father has led you to believe. Do you trust that power, Gaia?”
I have never had autonomy before. Besides going to the Sea Witch, I have always just done what I was told to do. It seemed easier that way. Safer. Maybe I was like my grandmother, looking away to remain comfortable.
“You will be safe with us,” Ceto says, “Join us, I implore you. Join the true sisterhood in your mother’s name. You can help us achieve peace, once and for all, by ridding the kingdom of your father and his army of rapacious mer-men. We can show the women how to reclaim their powers. They’re still there, in every one of them, just buried so deep that they think they are lost for ever. But we can teach them. That can be your legacy, Gaia.”
If I join the Salkas, what does that mean? I am Muirgen, daughter of the Sea King. I am Gaia, the mermaid who wanted so much and who looked up and who fell in love with a boy. And I am Grace, the girl dancing on shattered toes, smiling through the pain as if it was nothing.
Who am I now?
“Who are you?” Ceto repeats my thoughts. “I would wager the more important question is – who will you be? Who are you free to be now?” She sniffs the air, her head snapping up. She smiles. “Right on time.”
What? I look up too, as I have always done, but I don’t know what I am searching for now.
“A storm is brewing,” she says. “Are you ready to sing, little mermaid?”