Бесплатный фрагмент - Youngest Son of the Water King – 2

The princess’s hiding place

The ring had tired and fallen asleep. It could easily be removed from her finger now, but Desdemona did not dare. The sleeping pearl glowed in the darkness like a white lantern. She was mumbling something sleepily. Probably tomorrow it would wake up before Desdemona and start singing, but now its voice was barely audible.

“Take me to Lilophea’s room! To my friends!” She whispered.

“Which way is it?”

“It is to the right, then down the corridor to the left, then up the spiral staircase to the top,” the ring began to mutter instructions.

Desdemona reluctantly began to indulge it.

“Well, all right, let’s go!”

Curious as to what kind of friends the ring might have. Desdemona herself was followed by Bersaba. In the darkness of the palace, her eyes sparkled like two predatory gems. Her gait was inaudible.

“It is to the left! Then to the right! Turn into the east gallery!” The ring was giving directions. Either it was an experienced guide who had studied the palace layout well, or it felt the attraction of some magical object and easily guessed the direction. “Go past the fountain with stone dolphins, then there will be lunettes with sculptures of nymphs, and after them a strolling gallery. Follow it to a dead end.”

Bersaba kept up. She seemed to float above the floor rather than tread on it. She had a predatory look about her. Though she kept a respectful distance, Desdemona felt uneasy. She had gone looking for trouble at the call of the magic ring! In the morning it will wake up and declare that all his night instructions were just a dream.

“We’ve reached a dead end!” Desdemona ran into a wall decorated with intricate moldings. “There’s nowhere to go unless you teach me how to walk through walls.”

“Push the spiral-shaped jewelry!” The ring advised.

Desdemona did so. Immediately something creaked in the wall. Either there’s a sliding panel hidden there, or the spiral is actually a door handle. More like the latter. The dead end slid open to reveal a narrow doorway. Desdemona slid into it and slammed the door under the nose of Bersaba.

“It’s a strange passage. More like a hiding place,” she said to the ring.

“That’s because the doors have long since been bricked up.”

“Why is it?”

“People often used to disappear here.”

“What does it mean?” Desdemona was frightened.

“This was Princess Lilophea’s apartment.”

“Oh, that’s it,” said Desdemona. Well, then the first missing person could be the princess herself, who was kidnapped by the waterman. But her jewelry was left behind. Inside the secret room was a real treasure trove. Boxes and caskets were lined up in rows. Gold jewelry, diamond tiaras, rings with semi-precious stones, necklaces, earrings, bracelets, tiaras sparkled in them.

“There are all the gifts of the Water King!” commented the napping ring. Once in Lilophea’s room, it came to life.

“It couldn’t be!” Desdemona began to go through rubies, sapphires, emeralds and along with them suddenly noticed unusual gems with iridescence. There are really no such gems on earth.

Desdemona was afraid to touch the pearl beads. She already knew what the pearls given by the waterman could do. Though the pearls around her own neck had loosened their grip, they were still clinging to her skin.

By the way, jewelry made of large pearls and coral was the most abundant here. Huge chests, shaped like the silhouettes of fairy-tale palaces, were bursting with them.

Desdemona ran her finger along the lid of one such chest. It must have been the shape of some underwater palace.

“Are there castles and palaces in the Underwater Kingdom?” She wondered.

“Look for yourself!” The ring advised her.

What do you mean, see for yourself? Pearl is probably asleep and does not realize that it is a palace on land and not on the seabed.

Nevertheless, the pearl asked cheerfully:

“Take me off your finger and put me in that chest over there, which is full of pearl rings. I want to talk to them.”

“Well, as you wish,” Desdemona complied, and her ears immediately heard the chiming of many-voiced pearl trills. Her wedding ring was communicating with those inside the box. What wonders!

What should she do? Bersaba was at the door. We could stay here for the night. The dusty bed under the blue satin canopy was fit for sleeping. For some reason the beautiful mirror opposite it reflected, instead of an ordinary bed, some fantastic bed inside a giant shell.

The frame of the mirror resembled a wreath of gilded jellyfish, mermaids, and newts. Desdemona touched it and marveled. The reflection inside the mirror immediately changed. It now reflected the sea floor, where the clumsy kraken crawled. Shipwrecks were rotting among the algae plantations. A mermaid was stirring a skeleton tied to an anchor. Chests of gold and barrels full of ancient coins gleamed among the rotten planks of the ship.

“So this was the Undersea Kingdom?”

As if guessing her thoughts, the mirror winked at her, for a moment taking on the appearance of a fantastic face, something like a young swamp diva with snakes for hair and seashells for cheeks. Could it be a mirror fairy? In the next instant the picture inside the amalgam changed to a magnificent underwater palace with upper galleries that resembled the curves of aqueducts, walls of shells and columns of gold. Tritons with tridents guarded all the entrances, which were at different levels of height. From within, light poured in and music was heard, but the mirror did not linger on one underwater view, but was carried onward through a labyrinth of sandy embankments and blue gardens. There were pyramids of pearls and some unimaginable creatures. And then the mirror suddenly showed a mermaid lagoon. Close up, all the mermaids turned out to be so beautiful that it was impossible not to feel envy.

Desdemona immediately remembered her fears.

“Show my rival!” She asked the mirror.

And it showed the flaming arches of the palace in Tiora, the capital of Tioria. Through them walked a lady in a dress that seemed orange because it was also blazing. But it was originally azure blue. The bodice and the sleeves still retained their former color. The fabric was adorned with pearls — clearly a gift from Moran. The lady herself was as beautiful as a porcelain doll. A wizard must have arranged her golden curls into a hairstyle that no barber could have done. Her train wiggled like a dragon’s tail, and suddenly she turned into a dragon herself.

Desdemona recoiled from the mirror. It seemed to her that the lady within could see her. The gaze of the dragon’s eyes stared straight at her. Those eyes are like two jewels on a girl’s face.

We need to cover the mirror with something! It felt like her rival was about to burst into the room from the looking glass.

There was no blanket, no scarf, not even a rag. There was nothing to cover the mirror with. Then we must order him to look somewhere else.

Look? Is a mirror a looking eye?

“Did you find the spy’s eye?“The king’s pleasant tenor asked.

Desdemona turned around hastily. Moran seemed to have just climbed the wall and entered through the window. The door was definitely not open.

“Do you ever get any sleep?” Desdemona was upset. She was sure Moran was in his royal bedroom.

“I have plenty to do besides sleep,” he said.

“But your ring is sleepy!”

“When I gave it to you, I didn’t think you could so easily conspire with it to take you on excursions while I was distracted by business.”

“You’ll be more careful with your gifts,” Desdemona reached up to brush her neck. The pearls were digging too hard into her skin. Moran noticed it, too, and was not pleased.

“You’re trying to tie me to the throne with pearl chains,” she rebuked. “That’s clever! I am a queen under compulsion. The moment I leave the royal chambers, they dig into my skin.”

“I can’t get them off,” he admitted.

“You can pry them out with a knife.”

“It would be difficult and painful, and they would go under the skin, leaving pitted scars.”

“Then don’t! Let’s just hope they come off on their own.”

“Don’t risk running away from me. It’s not like I’m hurting you. I’m a monster, but I haven’t touched you.”

“Maybe you should have.” Desdemona wrapped her arm around his waist and shuddered, feeling the strangeness of his body. She wished he hadn’t put his tentacles around her throat and started strangling her.

The mirror again showed a quiet pool full of mermaids, her rivals.

Moran’s lips were as cold as frosted glass. His body was even colder. It was like she was hugging an iceberg.

“Drink first!” Moran pulled a blue vial out of thin air. “You’ll be too cold next to a sea creature if this elixir doesn’t warm you from the inside out.”

“And every time I want to hold you?”

“It is until you get used to it.”

“Can you get used to something as magical as you?”

“You get used to anything over the centuries.”

“In centuries, I’ll be dead. It is unless you have the elixir of immortality.”

“I may not have it, but I know someone who does.”

One sip from the vial sent such a pleasant heat through her body as if she were basking in the hot summer sun. Moran’s embrace didn’t seem icy now. No wonder why he favored his dragon friend. If she had a fire raging inside of her, she wouldn’t be cold next to a waterman. But watermen can’t tolerate fire. So how did Moran hook up with the fire lady?

“You found all of my mother’s jewelry boxes,” Moran pulled out a set made of unusual stones that seemed to reflect the waves from a pile of jewelry. “Only sirens have them.”

“Where did Princess of Aquilania get them from? Is it from the water king? Then why didn’t she take them to the bottom with her? Does Lilophea come back here sometimes?

“She used to, but not to this room. I think she’s forgotten about all this jewelry by now. They’re rightfully yours, since you found them here.”

Desdemona took the jewelry from his hands, wanted to try them on, and heard voices. The beads, each of which seemed to contain the sea, were whispering among themselves. Once they were around her neck, they moved like snakes trying to strangle her.

“She is not our mistress!” They hissed unhappily.

“It’s only in the beginning,” Moran said comfortingly. They’ll get used to you in time and even give you new abilities. You’ll be able to understand the whispers of the waves or walk on water, for example.”

The promise was tempting, but she’d had enough of the living pearls.

“No more presents!” Desdemona put the jewelry back. “All gifts from the watermen would not end well.”

She brushed the inflamed skin around the pearls she had recently tried to forge out. The maids of honor were jealous of her new jewelry, enthusiastic about its enormous cost and the beauty of the pearls, not even realizing how burdensome they were.

“They are not gifts, but parasites,” complained Desdemona.

“They wouldn’t have gotten into your skin if you hadn’t traveled too far from the palace.”

“But now I’m here, and they keep coming.”

“They probably suspect you strongly of rebellion and flight.”

“It is too bad you can’t get along with them like you can with a ring.”

“You can scald them and take them off, but it’ll hurt. I’d better get you one of Ariana’s ointments.”

“Who’s Ariana?”

“She is the White Fairy of the Waves. She’s known for her magical tinctures. She’s also known as the sea fairy. She flies above the waves and dives deep to gather herbs for her potions. She has a cure for everything in her arsenal.”

A wave fairy! It sounds mysterious and romantic. Desdemona imagined a delightful creature with wings, floating above the waves and flirting with the sea prince.

“What do sea fairies look like?”

“The same as all fairies,” Moran shrugged. “But they’re not as colorful as the fairies of groves, forests, and gardens.”

“If I’d ever seen garden fairies in my life!” She said indignantly. “In our garden pond lived only hideous divas, as you have seen for yourself. Not one good fairy.”

“Fairies are not kind,” Moran objected. “Ariana, for instance, loves to trap ship captains. But I can always negotiate with her. She has an arsenal of magic potions for her friends.”

“She’s a friend of yours?”

“She is mother’s friend.”

That sounds more reassuring. Desdemona sighed in relief.

“You can introduce me to fairies,” she agreed, “I’m a little afraid of mermaids.”

“And you can take this mirror away from here,” Moran nodded at the wall. “It’s a spy. If you want to see something, it will show you.”

“Where did it come from? Is it from the water king, too? Or is it from the fairies?”

“These mirrors are only made on the seabed. They’re called spy eyes because they can see everywhere you ask.”

“It’s a useful thing if you want to spy on someone.”

She didn’t mention that she’d already spied on her rival. The mirror showed the beautiful mermaids in the lagoon, and Moran kissed her as if he didn’t need all the beauties of the sea anymore. And neither did the lady of fire.

The idyll was dispelled by Livia, who hung outside the window like a black ghost. Apparently she had climbed up the wall, too. Her duty, after all, was to keep an eye on the queen. It was the duty of Bersaba too. She was still waiting under the door. Moran treated the slave girls as silent bodyguards who could be next to simply be ignored. But Desdemona, for the umpteenth time, felt uncomfortable under the gaze of Livia’s anthracite eyes.

“The spy’s eye must be brought to the Queen’s chambers,” Moran ordered, and Livia nodded understandingly. She flew easily through the window. Her dark webbed hands reached for the mirror. Turns out she knew what that magical thing was called. Curious how many other secrets of the sea kingdom Livia and Bersabe knew.

Surprises

Moran brought her a bouquet. It looks like lily of the valley, only it smells different.

“What are they?”

“Snowdrops are flowers from the land of winter. They bloom right under the melting snow.”

“Where do they come from? All the countries around the sea are hot.”

“I have relatives in the ocean.”

“Even there?”

Moran nodded.

“I was there once. There’s ice and icebergs all around, and even colder kin that freeze everything around them. There are mermaids the size of ships, oceanidas with the beauty of winter queens, warriors and ocean maidens who, when they feel cornered, turn into white-wood statues. You might mistake them for sculptures on the bottom, but they’re really just sleeping. I’ve awakened a couple of them and I’ve come across their gratitude as sharp thorns. We fought, and then we got along. Now we’re friends and allies.”

“Just don’t bring them here,” she sniffed the snowdrops with pleasure. The white flowers in a cocoon of large green leaves were tiny, but they had a marvelous fragrance.

“Put them in water and they’ll never wilt.”

“Are you sure?”

“I guarantee it!”

It was in his power, because the water obeyed him. As it turned out, in addition to water creatures heavenly creatures obeyed him too.

A dragon flew up to the archway. Moran carefully took the scroll from him, trying not to touch the scales. The dragon was wary of touching his hand as well. His hands, though wet, were partially covered with scales, as if he were the son of a dragon rather than a water dragon. Although fish have scales too, don’t they? Desdemona rose from her comfortable bed and walked to the window. The dragon was still hovering behind it. His mouth was hot. It almost burned her face. Now her skin would definitely turn red. How could Moran bear his proximity, he was a water dragon. Fire should be destructive to him, but the dragon listened to him.

“Get rid of him!”

“He’s going to fly away himself.”

Moran was right. The dragon turned and flew toward the horizon.

“You read his mind?”

“Why is it? He’s completed his mission and now he’s flying back.”

“Is it his task?”

“He is a messenger,” Moran unfolded a scroll mottled in orange letters. Are the letters glowing, or is she seeing double? Moran tried not to burn his fingers, holding only the ends of the scroll, untouched by the signatures.

“What is it?”

“It is a threat warning.”

“Who sent it?”

“It is the queen of Tioria.”

“You know the Queen of Tioria?”

“I knew her before she was queen. I even befriended her. It made my brothers laugh.”

“Don’t tell me about these murderers, or I’ll remember you didn’t stop them when they… drowned my brothers.”

“I can’t vouch for them. No one can vouch for them. Even my father can’t control them.”

“You mean the water king?”

Moran looked at her like a naive child. His almond-shaped eyes shimmered with mystery beneath golden lashes. How handsome he was! If only there weren’t tentacles under his robe. But not everyone could be perfect.

“Can the queen of Tioria control everything?”

“That’s not what she writes to me. And she’s no ordinary queen.”

“Then who is she?”

“She is a dragon goddess and a dragon herself.”

“She is a dragon woman.”

“I know her well.”

“What do you have in common with her?”

“What does fire have in common with water?”

“Then what do you want from her? Or does she want from you?”

Well, she’s already jealous. It’s wild jealousy.

She doesn’t think there’s anything to be jealous of, though. She had plenty of gifts and favors. Moran had recently sent her a bouquet of lilies and roses, laced with ribbons and pearls. If it wasn’t held together by charms, she didn’t know how. The gifts were many, but the most important was tenderness. No one had ever been gentle with her, and Moran had been. How can you call him a sea devil after that?

He’s sensitive. He sees all her anxieties without words. He loves only her. Though where else would a monster get a lady? Is it a miracle one agreed to him? It wasn’t. Everyone was after the king with wizard’s flaws. Desdemona made a lot of friends she didn’t even remember. It’s so easy to approach the king through her friendship.

“Do you like only me?”

Moran didn’t play the game.

“I once had a crush on the fire lady, but she didn’t like me. ‘We’re just friends,’ she kept saying. And I was expecting that one day I would see the deity everyone dreams of, and it would heal me. There is a goddess who is mightier than all and more beautiful than all. Once you see her, nothing else makes sense. Alais! I wanted to be her warrior and her chosen one. I thought that if I saw her, I would never think of Sephora again. I waited for her, watched the sun from the water, but she never came. And now you showed up, and I felt better.”

Is that what it is? One ethereal creature is reaching for another. No need for earthly ladies. But he found her.

They’re both wearing crowns. She is in a graceful feminine one, he is in a heavy masculine one. Both crowns are symbols of power, but somehow it feels like only he is the king here, and she is an impostor, wanting to wrest it from a highborn or even a magical lady.

Moran stood at the arched window, unafraid of falling out of it and crashing through the rocks. She knew by now that the octopus-like limbs braiding the window frame were not the tentacles of the monster beside him, but parts of his own body. But she didn’t care.

“I love you!” Desdemona hugged him from behind, running her bare feet over the slimy tails snaking beneath the royal robe.

Should she tell him how beautiful he is, or does he know it himself? He’s a monster, but she thinks he’s beautiful! Everything in the world turned upside down when a king from the sea came to rule the earthlings.

“Do you think I see you as a victim?” Moran felt her heart fluttering like a caged bird.

“I don’t know! Everyone has seen me as a sacrifice since I was chosen to serve the sea god. I heard that if the sacrifice with the chosen girl doesn’t take place, the sea will flood the whole country.”

“Let it drown!”

“You say that about your country?”

“I will flood it myself if you are chosen as the sacrifice.”

“But I thought you chose me to take me personally to the temple for sacrifice.”

She imagined the terrible celebration when a king personally gives his young wife to the sea god for a ritual to ensure the coastal kingdom’s peace and prosperity for many more years. Will she be beheaded with a sickle or cut open alive? Or drowned? Sometimes water is scarier than poison. Dodger had said it right. At the thought of drowning, the shimmering edge of the sea below sent a shiver of fear through her. Eerie images of the ritual came to mind. Desdemona clutched her eyes in horror.

“Tell me, the sea god’s victims become mermaids after he kills them.”

“Where did you get that idea?”

“I dreamed it,” she admitted honestly. No need to be hypocritical. It was as if Moran could see through her mind and was nervous, too.

“Dreams are as fine a line as water. A whole kingdom can hide beneath it.”

“How do you know?”

“So claims a lady who is no stranger to the realm of dreams and its rulers. She says that dreams are a witch’s labyrinth in which one can get lost and never return.”

“I imagine the temple of the sea god to be such a labyrinth.”

“Do not fear him. A queen shouldn’t be afraid of anything.”

But she didn’t feel like a queen.

Flowers and jewels alone were not enough to inspire her with regal majesty.

The chirping of the birds sounded almost musical. It was definitely not the cries of seagulls. In addition, the croaking instantly changed to an almost nightingale-like trill. Desdemona looked around.

Morillas were sitting on the parapets of the towers again. It was a whole flock of them now.

“I’d give you one,” Moran intercepted her gaze, “but they’re too free-spirited. They’d wither in a cage. And if you capture them, there’ll be a great flood. That’s why they’re feared. If sailors see a morilla near a ship, it means the ship will sink within 24 hours.”

“It is cruel!”

“The sea is cruel.”

“But it is beautiful too!” Desdemona cast a glance at Moran from under half-lowered lashes. He can only be compared to the harsh beauty of the sea. He is beautiful and dangerous.

“Let’s play a game!” She found an old ivory chess set.

“It is all right! Strip chess is a popular game in the mortal world. If I win something you take it off, if you win something I take it off.”

She flared up, but agreed. Winning from him wasn’t hard. The undressing game took her by surprise when she realized he had nothing on under his robe. He undressed first, showing off his tentacles and some shiny growths on his forearms that looked like scarlet bracelets.

“Next time we’ll play sea chess. I’m better at it!” Moran pushed the board into one of the newly dug pools. The chessboard sank. But Desdemona wasn’t upset. What caught her eye was the sun pendant with unusual milling around the edges on it around Moran’s neck.

“I feel like I’ve seen this symbol somewhere before.”

“It’s the mark of my goddess!” Moran put his robe back on and carefully hid the pendant. “We are all slaves to Alais. But I want to be your slave.”

It seemed to her that it was the other way around — She is his captive. But he reached for her and all sense of inequality vanished.

“Moran! If I start drowning again…” she remembered the night he had rescued her.

“You think you can drown yourself in my kingdom without my permission? Water is my element! I rule it, not you. No one is allowed to drown themselves in my domain without my permission. Besides, you won’t get rid of me that easily!”

Is he joking or is he serious? Probably it is both.

“You are mine. That’s all!” The corners of his lips parted in a happy smile, and his face was no longer cold.

For fun, he made the mirror show her the lily nymphs.

“They live on the lakes,” he explained. “Their clothes are lily petals that grow from their skin and give off a marvelous fragrance. They are called lilies. The boys dream of them, and I dream of you.”

“And what is about your brothers?”

“For them, to love a girl is to drag her down. In the beginning they were still choosing, but then they split up. Now they drown anyone they think is pretty.”

Some sounds suddenly alerted her. The clinking of metal and quick footsteps! Desdemona didn’t even realize they were suddenly aware, because Moran instantly blew the heads off two people. The corpses fell into the pool, staining it with blood. And some fish-like creatures devoured the dead flesh.

“They are conspirators! They’re like bedbugs! No matter how many of them you take out, they keep coming back,” Moran grumbled. Their axes had wounded him.

“Shall I call for the king’s physician?” Desdemona was worried.

Moran shook his head negatively. It appeared that all he had to do was sink into the water and all his wounds would heal themselves.

“Water heals all our injuries,” Moran braided his tentacles around the edge of the pool

“You were better off in the water. You’re vulnerable on land,” she concluded. That’s probably why there are so many new pools. While he was targeting his injuries in the water, she stroked his hair. They’re softer than silk!

“I held you captive as my queen, and you pity me.”

“I have had time to love you.”

Moran sighed as if it was too late. Somewhere in the distance, a long trumpet sounded over the sea, making my blood run cold.

“It’s Father’s horn,” Moran explained. “When he wants to summon someone or attack the shores, he blows that wonderful horn. He needs me for something.”

“Swim to him!”

“I can’t!” Moran kissed her quickly. “I can’t leave you alone. I don’t want any sea monsters to come to you in my absence.”

Desdemona remembered Alais’s dagger, which she still kept with her.

“I am ready for them,” she said bravely.

“You cannot stand alone. Or do you want me to go somewhere else?”

The only answer he would have had before was, “You are the ruler. We are vassals. You want me, and I have to be here,” but now she wouldn’t have sneered anymore.

One scar didn’t go away even in the water. Moran intercepted her gaze.

“There’s a legend that Lilophea’s youngest son was cut in half with a sword: one human, one watery. The halves fused together.”

“It is monstrous!”

He grinned. How beautiful his face was! What a contrast to the ugliness of his body!

“Am I a monster? Or is the act monstrous? I’m a fairy tale monster. You’re the girl I forced to be my bride by force. Of course you’re unhappy. Or are you finally happy?”

“Are you in pain?”

He didn’t answer.

“Who did it?”

“My own father did it.”

“You mean the water king? But why is it?”

“He didn’t want us children. That’s why my brothers are so angry and sink ships, including your brothers’ ships. My father was obsessed with one object, the Earth princess. For her, he would move mountains and seas for her. It’s hard to live with someone who would do anything for a woman. She’s worth more than a kingdom, more than a lifetime, even if it’s an eternity. And we’re just unwanted fruit.”

“It is not for me,” Desdemona ran her hand over his cheek.

He clawed his webbed hands around her face. She would probably die because of him one day, because he couldn’t live on land, she couldn’t breathe in water. All that remained was to perish together. If he wished to drown her now, she wouldn’t even try to resist. Moran mesmerized her, so much so that she said:

“I love you.”

“Is it now?” He grinned. “When you know we could be harmed by both my kin and attacked by another conspirator?”

“It is now and always!”

Desdemona nestled her lips against his in a long kiss. Even if they cannot be two, they will die together happy. But the one conspirator attacked no more today, and the calling horn was silent over the sea.

The shell game

Livia hung the magic mirror in the partition between the column and the canopy. It didn’t seem to show its magical ability to look wherever you asked it to. Vayra, for example, wouldn’t even realize it was magical unless she wanted to see a certain place when she was near it. One can only hope she’s reasonable. Or she could wish aloud to see distant places while cleaning, in which case the mirror will reveal itself.

Desdemona herself had already had time to ask the spy’s eye to show her everything, even the Blue Islands, where the Morgens and an earthly queen named Adriana had settled.

It was indeed beautiful there. There were pearls instead of berries on the blue branches of the trees, the leaves were blue, and there were pearl rains on the coast. The sand was studded with pearls and coral. The birdsong resembled the voices of sirens.

The mirror could also transmit sounds. It was truly an excellent spy. If Desdemona had close friends or adoring relatives, she could see them without going anywhere.

But should she, if she has no friends, spy on her enemies? And does she have enemies? The spy’s eye is clearly designed to spy on ill-wishers. The Morgens invented it for a reason. Even at the bottom, they wanted to maintain control of the world.

“Your kin from the sea can probably see everything that’s happening to us right now,” Desdemona commented thoughtfully on the power of the mirror.

“I don’t think they’re that interested in us,” Moran rearranged an intricate game of live shells on the lomber table. It was called sea chess. The board was divided into a water field and a land field.

“One person plays on land, the other on water,” Moran explained.

“It would be symbolic if you yourself were not the king of the land.”

“Do you want to play on the water side?”

“Oh, no, I don’t!” Desdemona picked up the black shells symbolizing the earth. As it turned out, there was no need to touch them with one’s hands. All you had to do was give the command (aloud or mentally) and they moved on their own. Moran proved to be a more skillful player. Desdemona’s projectiles were sinking in the blue water fields of the board.

“Let’s play for land,” she suggested after a quarter of an hour. “After all, a land king (even as a Morgen himself) has a duty to protect his islands from the sea.”

Moran didn’t bother to remind her that she herself had never become a priestess of the sea god, but allowed her to play on the water side of the board. It wasn’t proving to be so easy. The blue water projectiles burned up, barely hitting the earth fields.

“How can you win like that?” Desdemona was indignant, shuddering at the sight of another flash of flame as another of her projectiles was trapped and burned.

“The principle here is the same as in ordinary chess. You just don’t know your way around the obstacles.”

Desdemona tried again, but again failed and even burned her palm.

“No, I do not know how to play it,” she gave up.

“It’s simple! Not without reason it is a favorite game at the sea court.”

“The shells are burning, and I’m scared. Sea chess is beautiful, but when you start playing it, you realize it’s more creepy than entertaining.”

“You should see the sands!”

“What is that?”

“It’s a game of the goddess Alais. She invented it to drive kings and warlords mad.”

“It must be a terrible game,” Desdemona agreed. The mention of Alais brought to mind the dragon goddess who roamed the flaming palaces of Tioria.

Desdemona gave a sigh of relief. It was easier to think of it that way. The thought of some deity taking Moran away from her did not please her at all. In the king, she’d finally found the friend she’d never had before. She was also in love with Moran. So just looking at him was already a pleasure. And from talking to him, you could learn a lot of secrets that people don’t even know about.

“Have you ever met forest or heavenly spirits?” She wondered. “What are they like?”

“They are delightful to look at, and quite insidious.”

“Are they more insidious than water spirits?”

“I told you, we all come from the same legion. We all have the same habits.”

“I thought only watermen were malicious enough to sneak up on human ships out of the water and sink them.”

“Don’t feel bad!” — Moran decided that she was still sad about the loss of the “Queen of Aquilania” and took her hand. His webbed skin was cool and pleasant, like the touch of a forest spring.

On top of his sea crown, which grew straight from his skin, he wore the traditional wreath of the King of Aquilania, made of gold and rubies. He looked magnificent now. The ladies of the court sighed languidly at the sight of him, but he preferred to sit in solitude with Desdemona.

Perhaps he was the first king of the entire Aquilanian’s dynasty who, instead of searching for favorites, entertained his queen with games. Today he’s forgotten even the cares of state. And he kept saying that as king he had many urgent matters to attend to. Apparently, burden was placed on the shoulders of Quo and other morgens, crawling on the walls and ceilings of the palace, as on the seabed.

It was not good to get into politics, but Desdemona remembered the wailing of the cook and reported:

“The commoners complain that their husbands are drunk on your generous allowance.”

“What do you mean?” His handsome eyebrows raised in bewilderment.

“Wouldn’t it have made more sense to keep them busy with some useful work instead of feeding a kingdom of slackers?”

“What useful work can ordinary people do for me?”

Moran stood up and beckoned her to the window.

“Look!” The sea was swarming with Morgens, pulling barrels of wine and pearls from shipwrecks. “Humans can’t do that. They’re weak!”

“But you shouldn’t feed your subjects for nothing.”

“It’s not free.”

“Are you scaring me? You want to make the population entirely marine? Will touching your gold make them all sick like my father?”

“It is enough! You’re not my first minister yet,” he joked.

“I’m your wife, which means I have more rights over you than the first minister.”

Moran grinned, showing that he was still happy to have such a beautiful burden. With his morgen’s claws, he could have easily tamed his wife’s stroppy temper, but he didn’t.

Desdemona is bolder.

“Who is the lady who sits at night on the queen’s throne in my place?”

“Is that of interest to you?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Are you afraid she’ll take some of your jewelry? She loves shiny things, like a magpie. She hoards treasures, hoards stolen or repossessed gold.”

“Don’t scare me! I will not give my jewels, that is, the crown jewels, to a rival.”

Nor my husband, she wanted to add, but was too shy.

“All beauties sin by greed,” Moran joked again.

“It’s a matter of principle, not greed.”

“That’s what Sephora says. That’s why she’s holed up in Tiora, the capital of Tioria. It has the most caches of riches, but the rulers there are cunning. I wonder who’s going to get the better of whom? Did it ever occur to you that dragons have the same instincts as magpies when it comes to shiny things?”

“What does that have to do with dragons? Or is the lady really a dragon?”

Moran faltered.

“I don’t remember telling you about Sephora and who she really is,” he glanced suspiciously at the mirror. “Did it show it?”

Desdemona did not dissuade him. Outside the windows, the midday sun was shining brightly, but suddenly darkness fell, as if a giant had risen from the sea and covered the sky.

“Is it a solar eclipse?” She worried. Being in the dark, in the middle of the day was scary. “They say there is a solar eclipse before the sea god takes the sacrifice.”

But Moran wasn’t alarmed. Wouldn’t he be sorry to lose his wife? True, there was still a belief that before the country sank, there would also be an eclipse of the sun. Somewhere in the heights of the sky there was a roar. Desdemona covered her eyes with her palms.

“It has nothing to do with Darunon,” Moran pulled her hands away from her face. “Look closer! The sun was covered by the shadow of wings.”

Something was flying across the sky, making threatening noises. First it spread darkness, then a glow. All the sentries and archers on the towers had long since been replaced by morgens, so no one raised a panic. The silver dragon was approaching the castle. The shadow of its huge wings covered the towers.

“My chief scout has arrived. Would you like to meet her?”

Moran’s courteous offer came like a slap in the face.

“It is no way!” Desdemona exclaimed.

Who would want to get acquainted with a rival?

Moran only shrugged his shoulders and hurried to meet her. His purple robe slid like liquid fire down the stairs leading to the roof of the tower.

Desdemona was left alone with the mirror, which stubbornly refused to show her the rendezvous between the king and the dragoness.

Maybe she had jumped to conclusions. Moran seemed to call the guest a scout, not a friend. But why would he need a scout who flies over the sea, when he himself can get all the information about the enemies without leaving the castle? It is enough to give an order to the mirror-observer, and it will show everything.

What really connects the waterman and the dragon lady? From above came suspicious and wild sounds, then something like the singing of a siren. Desdemona never dared to go up and peep. She had already burned herself on the sea chess. She didn’t want to be burned by the dragon’s breath.

The Wooden Queen

“The wooden queen of Aquilania was lost in the stormy waves, it was the turn of the living queen!”

Whoever said that reminded Desdemona of the ship with her dead brothers. That ship, after all, was called the “Queen of Aquilania.” That’s symbolic, considering that it was the current queen who was originally meant to be sacrificed to the sea. Presumably, by taking the ship, the sea would calm down.

Desdemona had the feeling that someone had threatened her from the darkness with a clawed finger. Could the mirror be speaking to her? It was now showing a half-empty ship and a blonde mermaid who was flirting brazenly with the captain.

“This is Yasmin, the eldest of the sea king’s daughters,” explained Moran, who had returned. His date with the dragon lady had ended very quickly.

“Is it your sister? I did not wish to see her.”

“I wished to see her. I thought she’d come around a little since we broke up. But I see she’s gone wild.”

“She will drag that captain down,” Desdemona guessed.

Moran sighed.

“What else do you expect from a mermaid?”

“It is love for a handsome mortal boy.”

“Yasmin often falls in love with mortals, but it ends badly for them. The sea princess already has a collection of skeletons of her suitors.”

“And I thought that if someone brave went down to the sea kingdom and asked the crowned father for her hand, everything would be solved like magic.”

“That’s not likely! The sea king is least desirous of his daughters’ marriage. The thing is, each of them has a special talent that will come in handy to…”

“Is it to sweep away the entire earthly world?” Desdemona said the first thing that came to her mind, for Morgens do not tolerate humans.

Moran was silent.

The flapping of powerful wings somewhere above heralded the dragon’s departure from the castle.

“Sephora reports that we should expect an unusual ambassador.”

“From the depths of the sea, I believe. And how is he unusual?”

“He will be sent to test how well I can handle Aquilania on my own. If the ambassador is convinced I’m not a good autocrat, they’ll send us imposed help from the sea. This is a test. We cannot fail it.”

“And what can I do to help?”

“You can expose the naval ambassador. He won’t look like a waterman.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at the Copycat,” Moran snapped his fingers, and a creature that looked like a huge white spider slid off the frame of the trundle. It straightened up to its full height and suddenly became the first minister Ramiro.”

Desdemona gasped.

“I didn’t know his grace was also a morgen.”

“Ramiro is not a morgen,” Moran objected. “Show her the other changes of guise!”

And now in front of Desdemona already was the same handsome Lancier, about whom Vaira chirped endlessly. He smiled impudently at her and showed his fingers with webbing. It was immediately clear that this was not Lancier. In a fraction of a minute, the creature called Copycat took on a succession of guises, from royal advisors to lackeys. Toward the end, it took the form of all the brothers in turn, and even Desdemona’s father.

“That’s it! Enough!” She demanded.

The creature crawled nimbly back behind the frame of the drawer, and from there climbed up the wall. It looked like a fancy ivory ornament.

“It can turn into women, too,” Moran boasted.

As if to confirm his words, the Imitator sat down at the top of the arch and suddenly turned into Desdemona herself, exactly copying her figure, hair and dress.

“It would frighten everyone to death if it repeated the trick in public,” Desdemona turned away from the double.

“But you can drive your enemies crazy that way. Imagine if no one warned you about the Copycat, but you see your copy mimicking you everywhere.”

“And you’re afraid the naval ambassador will come to you in my guise? You can’t tell me from a Morgen unless I give you a sign.”

Moran shrugged.

“It’s best if we both know about the visitor and look him out. If you denounce him, don’t hesitate to tell him you’ve figured out his secret. Father will be pleased to know that my queen is not a simpleton. Then he won’t impose his rules or his help on us.”

“And what if we need his help one day?” Desdemona thought of the sunken temple. Would a sea king be able to take control of that place?

“I’m used to handling everything myself,” Moran disappointed her.

“Why should you cherish your independence when somewhere at the bottom of the sea there is a powerful father who can sink the whole world for you?”

“I’ll explain later,” Moran was withdrawn.

He led Desdemona out into the garden and to an arbor, which was braided by a blue sea tree with a scaly trunk. Moran plucked one fruit from it.

“Would you like a taste?”

“It is to lose your mind or your memory?”

“It is to learn to hear the gossip that the waves carry to the shore.”

Sounds tempting, but Desdemona didn’t dare.

“Some other time,” she promised. The tree moving its living roots beneath the gazebo frightened her a little. Besides, she still didn’t know how much she could trust Moran. He was courteous to her. It was easy to fall in love with him, but it was a little scary to trust a morgen.

The basilica behind the garden with its doors ajar clearly displayed sculptures of gods that looked like they came from the sea. Desdemona gazed at them mesmerized. The marble figures were beautiful and frightening. She had seen something like them before in the cathedrals of the city. The goddesses had tails instead of legs or shells in place of ears, the gods had gills and scales.

“These are the original gods of the land,” Moran explained. “I have seen them all alive, and to me they are not gods at all, but only my father’s subjects. This is the statue of Ariana. You call her Pheean, the goddess of the waves. Apparently, that’s how the name was heard by someone who heard it only as an echo of mermaid talk.”

Desdemona’s attention was distracted by the Copycat. He crawled along the ceilings of the arches to the basilica and took the form of a lady of fire.

Moran seemed to have called the dragon lady Sephora.

“What do you and the fire-breathing lady have in common?” Desdemona dared to ask.

“Well,” Moran reluctantly stretched out. “She is much older than me. That’s what’s causing all the trouble.”

“Is it a few years older? I thought you were a hundred,” Desdemona snickered.

Moran pretended not to feel the pinprick.

“She is a few millennia older. But that’s a small thing to her. Creatures like her only add beauty and strength over time. It’s humans who age quickly.”

That’s right! Desdemona’s sad. She’s human. And she’s to be sacrificed. And if they don’t sacrifice her, she’ll grow old anyway, and she won’t be able to be Moran’s mate anymore.

“Won’t you grow old?”

“I’ve only grown a hundred years, but have I reached maturity?” said Moran sullenly. “At the bottom, I am too young, and if you tell my age to people, they will be stunned.”

“It wasn’t age that stunned me,” Desdemona admitted. “What does it matter how many hundreds of years old a creature with a pleasant ever-young face is? It is the fact that you’re half human and half morgen…”

“I don’t know if I was born this way or if the legend is right. My father split me in two with a sword when my mother tried to escape him back to the humans. I am one half Morgen, one half human.”

Even Desdemona heard the legend of Lilophea in the Adar’s wilderness. It seems that the princess who escaped back to the land, the sea husband issued an ultimatum: if she did not return, they would have to divide the children equally. Half the mother would take back to the land. Half would stay with the father in the sea. Lilophea’s sons were an uneven number, and it became necessary to cut the odd seventh son in half. Lilophea apparently did not have any mermaid daughters at that time. Hearing the ultimatum, she returned. But was it really like that? Or was Lilophea not going to leave the sea kingdom forever from the very beginning? Apparently, the princess had a flighty temper. She could only banter with her consort. It would be a shame if something bad really happened to Moran because of her jokes.

“Do your brothers have different bodies? Did they inherit any human traits from their mother?”

“Normal watermen have blue skin and shell-shaped growths on their temples and foreheads. You wouldn’t mistake them for humans if they wore an ermine robe over their shoulders.”

“Are the chosen girls sacrificed to such creatures?”

Moran remained sullenly silent.

“Who is a sea god to you: an annoying nuisance to unlimited power or an insignificant inhabitant of the sea?”

“The sea itself is becoming dangerous!” Moran squinted at the waves like an attacking enemy. “It belongs to my father and brothers, not to me. That is why I am here. In the kingdom my mother would return to if she could leave the depths.”

“What happens if the sea can’t do without a victim?”

“In that case, I have a friend named Sephora who can turn the waves into fire. There are talismans that turn a pool of water into a pool of fire. That’s how we met. I fended off a big bay that wasn’t my father’s, and she flew by and the water turned to flames. I almost got fried, but Sephora saved me. Then it turned out that she had befriended my mother long before I was born. I was attracted to her for nothing. To her, I’m the child of an old acquaintance, that’s all. But she can ignite the entire sea around Aquilania if you ask her to.”

Desdemona’s heart is relieved. So Sephora is no match for her! But there was another cause for concern.

“It is to turn the whole sea into fire! Is that possible?”

“It’s a last resort,” Moran said.

“And you have to do it for something?”

“If my enemies are suddenly stronger than I am, which is unlikely,” Moran said. “Sephora could ignite the entire ocean. That’s something we can negotiate with her. The bad thing is that then we, the Earthlings, and all those who live in the water will die in the fire.”

So there’s no way out. If it becomes necessary to fight Darunon, the country will either burn or sink. Desdemona returned to her room, looked at the bouquet of luxurious lilies that Moran had brought her in the morning, and realized that beautiful flowers no longer pleased her. For the abyss was near. The floor beneath her feet no longer felt like she was about to become a mermaid with a tail and a creepy sea god pulling her to the bottom.

“The wooden queen has already sunk, it’s the turn of the living queen,” she repeated, looking into the magic mirror.

The mirror immediately showed her a piece of wood from the bow of the ship that was bobbing in the waves with mermaids splashing around it. It was part of a carved female figure, the kind usually used to decorate ships. Indeed, it looked like a statue of a queen. In the salt water of the sea, the wood would quickly rot and turn black. There will soon be nothing left of the beautiful figure.

Desdemona could not recall this figure or any other adorned the bow of the sunken “Queen of Aquilania.”

She is queen now! Is the queue for her?

“Come to me!” The voice was definitely not calling from the mirror, but it suddenly showed the sunken temple. Its spires and domes curved in relief over the inky black water. The sun was setting, illuminating them with bloody light.

Desdemona felt a sudden impulse to go to the sea. It was as if someone whispered in her ears:

“You were born to swim, not to walk on land!”

It hurt to step. It was as if small broken glass had fallen into her feet. Desdemona took off her shoes and examined her feet. Scales had erupted under her heels and toenails. Her feet had become like two fish.

“Swim!” said a commanding voice.

Was it the wind itself whispering? Desdemona looked around for the speaker, but she had no strength left to stand on the shore. She found it hard to breathe. She didn’t remember how she had fallen into the sea. The corset that squeezed her breasts had burst, or she had torn it. Instead of the exquisite brocade of Aquilania, a stiff purple scale stretched across her chest. It felt like armor. Her legs, once in the water, were joined by a tail and long fins.

So she’s a mermaid! It was in real life, not in a dream. Desdemona struck the waves with her tail and darted forward. No sailboat could sail that fast. She had the feeling that she was flying ahead of the waves. There was only one thought in her mind: she had to hurry, because someone was waiting for her. That someone was calling her. The call came as if from the sea floor, but she had to swim forward to the horizon.

Overhead, seagulls shrieked frantically. The wedding ring somehow didn’t sound the alarm. Apparently it was itself surprised to find itself suddenly on a mermaid’s hand instead of the queen’s finger. Desdemona had deceived it so often that it must have thought she had quietly traded it for something. Pearl yawned sleepily, but didn’t raise a panic. Apparently it had grown tired of its past mistress and felt more comfortable on the silent sea maiden’s finger.

It was worth diving deeper under the water for a moment and Desdemona saw a stunning world of bright colors, magical fish and sea wonders. Singing shells shone in the depths, lacey networks of seaweed swayed, sandy pyramids were towered. Sunken treasures glittered. But she had to hurry. The call, coming from afar, pulled her forward magnetically. The sky above the sea was darkening rapidly, a storm was coming. A storm was about to break. Desdemona did not notice the impending danger.

“Swim to the temple!” Someone called out.

The temple! What direction is it in? Desdemona looked around. There are only waves. They are getting stronger and higher. The water is getting darker and darker. Soon it will be pitch black.

Desdemona had sailed so far that the shores of Aquilania were no longer visible behind her. She had only been at sea for a few minutes. Can mermaids really swim so fast? She hadn’t been a mermaid all her life and suddenly she was. It was just before her nineteenth birthday.

Alarm bells went off in her brain. What if her transformation was a birthday present, followed by a deadly ritual? A voice, coming from an unknown place, was calling her to the temple. Which temple, she somehow never doubted for a moment. The sunken one!

But how was it to get there? And should she go there at all? She’s not crazy enough to willingly sacrifice herself. She has Moran, her lover and her king. She should go home to him. He’s more important than some creepy deity demanding tribute in girls’ lives.

In defiance of the calling voice, Desdemona turned and swam back to the shores of Aquilania. Someone was very angry with her. She felt someone’s fury gathering over her like a black cloud. As luck would have it, there was a thunderstorm. It was the beginning of a storm. A gust of strong wind literally threw Desdemona under the water. In the depths was a little calmer. Jellyfish and swordfish tried to swim away from Desdemona. Probably they feel that she is an enchanted mermaid, not a real one. But who bewitched her? Was it an ancient god who’s been waiting for her for a long time? She’s not even sure if he even exists or if it’s just a scary legend to scare the people. She’s never seen Darunon with her own eyes. And she’d do well not to in the future.

One living sea legend, Moran, was enough for her. Desdemona came to the surface with difficulty. It was like a counterweight had been attached to her tail. Some force was pulling her down.

Being a mermaid is good and pleasant only as long as you feel weightless in the water. Then the waves carry you forward like a grain of sand. Desdemona tried to regain the feeling of lightness and swam a little. The sea was getting stormier and stormier. It darkened rapidly. Soon it would be night, and she was alone on the open sea, with a scaly tail instead of legs. She wondered if the mermaid packs would mistake her for a tribeswoman if they saw her. So far there were no other mermaids or newts around. Desdemona came upon a log bobbing on the waves and was stunned. It was the same carved figure from the bow of the ship that the magic mirror had shown her that morning.

Up close, the wooden queen appeared beautiful and sinister. The empty eyes seemed cunning for some reason, as did the wooden lips curved in a sneer. Desdemona felt as if she had stumbled upon the corpse of a drowned woman, or worse, a sleeping magical creature. Moran had said something about oceanids being able to harden themselves to escape persecution.

“Are you alive or wooden?” Desdemona touched the exquisitely carved face. Every wooden curl, every prong of the crown was carved so skillfully that the figure seemed asleep. Curious as to which of the queens of Aquilania it was made in honor of? It was not Lilophea. She never became queen of Aquilania because she went to the sea kingdom. Could this wooden queen be a copy of her mother?

“Swim back! To me!”

Desdemona missed the last call. It could have been just an illusion created by the howling of the storm wind.

Suddenly, something pulled her harder to the bottom. Her tail seemed to split. The scales on her chest began to disappear. Desdemona gasped as she realized she was drowning. What a bad time to be a girl again. It would only take her five minutes to swim back to shore.

She tried to grasp the wooden queen, but her fingers only slid across its surface. She seemed to have picked up a splinter. It didn’t matter! Another wave hit her head.

“The Queen is drowning!” squeaked the suddenly awakened ring.

How belatedly it had awakened! All it took was to turn back into a girl to rouse its vigilance.

Something like an octopus limb wrapped around Desdemona’s ankle and pulled her down. And the storm was getting worse. This is the end! Desdemona prepared to drown before her fateful nineteenth birthday, when suddenly someone incredibly strong grabbed her around the waist. He swam up suddenly, just surfaced from the stormy wave and embraced her.

“Hold on!” It was Moran’s voice. It was sweeter than heavenly music in the stormy sea.

How long did it take Moran to swim to her? Was it a minute? How long had it been since the ring had given voice?

Something like a huge kraken was pulling her to the bottom, but as soon as Moran tugged her toward him, the something receded.

“There’s a wooden queen floating in the water,” Desdemona whispered, eagerly snuggling into Moran’s cold chest. “Do you think she called me here?”

“It is surely not her!” Moran turned to the wreck of the ship, which the waves had already carried far away. It’s a wonder it hasn’t sunk yet.

“I just turned into a mermaid! Do you believe me?”

Obviously, no one could believe such a thing, because there was no answer.

As it turned out, Moran didn’t need his hands to swim. He held Desdemona tightly. Only his octopus-like limbs were shoveling water. In a fraction of a minute he reached the shore, but he did not enter the usual way through doors or loggias, but climbed straight up the wall to the window of the king’s bedroom. It seemed to Desdemona that they both flew.

Livia and Bersaba instantly realized they needed to light the fireplace and heat the wine. Moran laid a shivering Desdemona on the bed. She felt light kisses on her neck and lips. They were sweet, but they sent a chill through her.

“Ariana’s warming elixirs have run out today,” Moran whispered, pulling away, “but tomorrow she will fly in and bring new ones. In the meantime, sleep!”

The pearl on the ring mumbled something unhappily, but Desdemona did not listen to it. Her consciousness sank into sleep as into a dark swamp.

Troubadour

Desdemona dreamed that she was lying on her mother’s grave in a quiet, marshy garden near the family crypt. The honeysuckle-covered coffin slab is cracked, and something is swarming underneath it, as if some monster were tearing its way out of the earth and mire. Something is pounding with a clawed claw on the other side of the slab, and she lies on her back and cannot move. She’s wearing a wedding dress. But for some reason it’s purple instead of white. Are there any wedding gowns that are red in color? Or has the dress turned purple from the blood? Her head hurts like hell. That’s because there are many red roses in her hair. These roses are supposed to be jewelry because they blend so well with her blue-black curls, but the flowers have such sharp thorns! These roses were definitely brought by Dodger. Somehow she knows that. If only she could pluck them out of her hair and feel the reassurance that the thorns are gone, but she can’t move an arm or a leg. It’s as if she’s paralyzed by some magical force. And someone standing over the grave had already swung a sickle at her. The smell of roses became suffocating. Desdemona had time to think only that the gilded sickle looked like a month glittering in the sky. And then the sickle sliced her neck. The head, adorned with roses, flew away and rolled across her mother’s grave.

Desdemona awoke in horror and touched her neck. The head seemed to be in place. In the dream, the sensation of being beheaded was painfully real.

Moran wasn’t in her bedroom. Apparently he had left during the night. Desdemona vaguely heard, as she fell asleep, some voices calling for him from the water. It was a whole chorus. Or had she just dreamed it?

Life had turned in such a fantastic way that soon she wouldn’t be able to distinguish dreams from reality, or fairy tales from reality. Moran promised he’d get a visit from a real sea fairy. She wondered what she looks like and what she can do? Desdemona had only read about fairies in fairy tales, but she could guess that seeing a fairy would definitely be much more pleasant than running into a Copycat in the corridors pretending to be someone from her late family.

In the old days the bonfires were blazing even during the day. But this precaution was a thing of the past. Now the king himself was half morgen.

How easily the feud between humans and Morgens was resolved! All it took was to marry a sea king to an Earth princess. Or was it not that simple at all?

The combined offspring of Lilophea and the waterman were more sea than earth. With Moran’s arrival, Aquilania might become merely a colony of his father’s maritime domain.

Desdemona looked out to sea through the opened door of the balcony and shuddered. Was there another bonfire by the shore? She squinted. No, it was a flap of bright red cloth fluttering in the wind, resembling a dancing flame. And the cloth is a shapeless cape over the narrow shoulders of some troubadour composing songs right on the shore. There was something familiar about him. Desdemona listened to his voice and recognized Dodger.

He sat on a boulder at the edge of the surf and sang in all sorts of songs:

“She’s as fresh as a rose,

Like a lily of the valley

Like a pearl of white,

But she loved the beast of the sea.”

The rhyme was lacking, but the meaning was clear. Desdemona sharply slammed the glass doors leading to the balcony. She was queen now and would not let anyone tease her. The crown, by the way, was pressing hard on her forehead, even though it was elegant. She wanted to take it off, but she couldn’t. The crown is a symbol of her power, however flimsy. All major power is in Moran’s hands, or rather in his tentacles. All the lives of the people of Aquilania are now in his hands.

“It took a king to crawl out of the sea to strike fear into the hearts of the people of his state, didn’t it?” Dodger was already here. He easily climbed to the balcony, swung over the railing and silently opened the shutters. A lute dangled from his belt at his shoulder. On one broken string was a live rose.

“This is for you!” The guest caught up, pulled out a flower, and held it out to Desdemona. She did not dare to take it.

“That for the queen just one rose is too modest a gift?” He said sarcastically. “I hear you adore roses.”

“Were you spying on me with Moran?”

It was the kind of conversation he could only overhear under their bedroom. When playing sea chess with Moran, she confessed to him that roses were her favorite flowers.

Dodger didn’t clarify where or what he heard. Maybe his hearing is so sharp that he can pick up all the whispers of the people in the palace from the sea.

“Strange, isn’t it? The king came to take care of his country only to have it flooded. All the souls of those who waited for him here are in danger. They’re about to migrate to the sea.”

“And what if he is not so cruel?” Desdemona did accept the rose and immediately pricked herself on the thorns until she bled. You should be careful, but when you’re with someone whose face you can’t see, you get nervous.

“Nobility is not in the taste of the morgen,” the Dodger gritted his teeth angrily. “I remember being drowned.”

“You must be from the society of those who survived and didn’t drown. They call you the Chosen Ones.”

“Is it the Chosen?” He chuckled softly.

“Are you amused?” Desdemona took offense. He probably considered himself cursed rather than chosen, given his grim appearance. He’s not handsome and he’s definitely not human. The red cloak most likely hides a body disfigured by sea contagion. Dodger might be a leper.

“You’d better go, Moran could return at any moment.” Desdemona decided to get the annoying admirer out of the bedroom as quickly as possible. How come only monsters were attracted to her?

Only fragments of his face could be seen under the Dodger’s hood, but even that was enough to realize that he was ugly.

“You don’t like the way I look. Yes?” He guessed it.

What can she say to that? Desdemona frowned.

“Look!” Dodger handed her a small oval locket with a man’s portrait on it. “Do you like it?”

The portrait was of a green-eyed brown-haired man with sculpted features.

“He is quite handsome,” Desdemona said. “Did you kill him and keep his portrait as a trophy?”

“Is that all you can think of?”

“Well, the most probable version is that you sank his bride, and she wore the medallion with the portrait of the groom on her breast. And now it’s in the hands of a murderer. Or rather, it is in his tentacles. I can’t get a good look at what’s under your sleeves.”

“You are a silly girl!” Dodger took the medallion from her. “This is not my victim. This is me as I was before the sea touched me.”

“You mean you’re human? Was it in the past?”

“Sebastian de Arigo. I was heir to the earl’s plantations. I was a court dandy and a favorite of the ladies. I was duelist and a bully. Everything changed in an instant, as if a magic water mirror had been held up to my face. There was a tournament on the water, a duel with a morgen drilling the bottom of my gondola to make me drown. He started to drown me, and realized he couldn’t. And all those who were in the clutches of the morgens, but didn’t drown, become like me.”

“They are not drowned! There must be a whole sect of you,” Desdemona remembered the silhouettes in red that had performed the ritual in the rain on the day of the coronation. Were they not the same ones who had not drowned? “But why don’t you drown in water like all men?”

“Even the Morgens don’t know that.”

“So you don’t know anything about your current state?”

“I don’t remember much about the day I changed. I only remember that Morgen clung to me during the water tournament, but for some reason he couldn’t drown me. All he could do was brutalize me and make me (whatever epithet the illiterate common people chose) a chosen one! So this curse, it turns out, is called! In the eyes of ordinary people, we are something like an order of monks. But in fact we are just a community of cripples.

“You are mutants, not cripples,” Desdemona corrected timidly. She was becoming more afraid of Dodger by the minute. His eyes glittered so dangerously and menacingly. God forbid she should do anything to provoke his anger!

“If it weren’t for that, I could woo you, give you roses. I could serenade you without frightening you. I had a picturesque estate with orange plantations. I could propose marriage to you and save you from your stepmother’s cruelty. You wouldn’t be queen, but you’d be happy.”

“What if that’s what all Morgens say when they trick girls into going under?”

“Don’t be deceitful, Queen! You can see I’m not a Morgen.”

What is he, then? Is he a freak who escaped from the circus? Or is he a degenerate of an ancient aristocratic family, where endless marriages of cousins have degenerated?”

“I find it hard to believe you were once more human.”

“We who have not drowned are changing.”

“How does that happen?”

“The body deforms, the mind deforms. I am in anger at people and at the morgen.”

“Why is it? Captains and merchants have drowned, entire fleets have been wrecked, and you alone have been spared by the sea. You’re the chosen ones who didn’t drown like my brothers!”

“Look at me!” Dodger opened his robe. “And tell me whether it was better to survive or to drown.”

Desdemona recoiled, glimpsing a black, slimy body with many bifurcated tentacles. There were no legs, only tails of some kind, twisting in a tangle. And she thought it was hard to turn into a mermaid! How could such a creature live? Unlike Moran, he was a full-fledged monster. There was nothing human left in him.

“I know all sorcery,” Dodger admitted, pulling up his cloak. At least it made him look more like a court magician who had disfigured himself with his experiments than a man of the mire. “For example, I can make a mermaid a bipedal girl for a day, but I can’t make myself human again. So you’re doing the right thing by avoiding me. Moran is at least half handsome, I’m ugly from top to toe, I mean to the tip of my tail.”

“What are you trying to get out of me? Why are you hitting on me in the first place?”

“It is to flirt with you,” he corrected. “I’ve still got all the sympathy I used to have for pretty ladies when I was a beau to match them.”

“Do you mean to say that you have not yet killed or dragged down a single woman of the earth?”

“I don’t drown pretty women, if that’s what you mean. And I don’t live on the bottom either. Our society has to huddle in the swampy backwaters of human settlements, like the marshes behind the capital’s hot districts. We’re monsters, but we don’t hurt women.”

That’s not what she saw! The gutted corpse of a woman in the rain with a sickle wouldn’t leave her mind. Was the ritual performed by the very society to which Dodger belonged?

“How long have you been like this?” She began to ask cautiously. “Have you learned all the habits of creatures like you? You said you were becoming embittered. Does that imply acts of cruelty?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Dodger stopped the interrogation. “Ever since the king turned his attention to you, all our plans had to change. We couldn’t let him see you, but he did. There was nothing I could do, even though I was hovering nearby. I found you, but he found you too. Unfortunately, he’s stronger than the rest of us. And his power will eventually bring down the whole kingdom.”

“What makes you think that?”

“What do you think? Will the Morgen stay on earth forever?”

“That’s why he came to the country.”

“No, it’s just convenient for you to think that. Because if it turns out he can’t stay on land forever, you’ll be a burden to him. How do you take a wife who can’t breathe underwater to the sea?”

“They say there are remedies that allow you to breathe at depth for a while.”

“It is not for you! Darunon’s chosen victim is unaffected by them. So how are you going to follow the morgen to the bottom?”

There is a remedy! What seemed like a curse to Desdemona suddenly seemed like a blessing. She was able to turn into a mermaid once, so she could do it again.

“Don’t even think about it,” Dodger guessed her thoughts. “The only way you can become a mermaid forever is if you become a priestess of Darunon. If you reject the sea god, you’ll never be a mermaid again.”

“How did you know I could turn into a mermaid?”

Did he spy on her? Then he’s always hiding somewhere in the palace.

“I can see the signs of transformation in your face,” he admitted. “I’m skilled enough in magic to see them. And if I examine your feet, I’m sure there are scaly growths on your feet.”

He’s right about that! Desdemona swallowed hard. The gorgeous golden crown of rubies and emeralds pressed against her forehead. Its heaviness was symbolic. Being queen was proving to be very hard. Even with a monster husband who could solve most problems with force and magic.

Maybe she’d tell him about the Dodger. And then the insolent double-talk would be over. Only Desdemona was not a snitch. She preferred to keep quiet about her strange acquaintance. But he kept prophesying, scaring her to the point of palpitations.

“If you choose Moran, you can never become a mermaid, and if you become a mermaid, you can never be with Moran again.”

“But that amounts to a dead end. Without becoming a mermaid, I won’t be able to live together with Moran. I’d just suffocate underwater.”

“It’s a vicious circle that can be broken, but I don’t know how.”

No one has ever considered her wise, but now that she’s queen, she’ll have to sharpen her wit. How can you rule an entire country without learning the wisdom of life?

Some sounds were heard in the neighboring rooms. Desdemona immediately took advantage of the noise to say goodbye to the annoying guest.

“Go away! Or crawl away! And don’t come here again.”

“Tell him you have a secret lover,” said Dodger.

“Don’t joke! I don’t fall in love with monsters!”

“Who’d believe it, hearing that from a monster’s wife!” caught her on the word sullen guest.

“Moran will think we’re plotting against him if he catches us together, and he’ll execute us both. He can find a way to deal with a creature like you, too, can’t he?”

The Dodger shook his ugly head in denial.

“We are all at an impasse: you and I, Moran and my society. We can’t let Darunon’s chosen victim live, and we can’t let you stay with the king. There is no way out.”

“But then maybe you and your society should drop this whole conundrum and do something else,” Desdemona snapped at him and wanted to walk away. As luck would have it, none of the servants or guards was in a hurry to open the door of the queen’s bedroom to see who she was arguing with. We need to get away from Dodger. He seems insane. Suddenly all his stories about turning into a freak by chance were just his own made-up nonsense. It was hard to believe that he had once been handsome.

Desdemona turned to give him the locket and almost shrieked. A gilded sickle glittered in his black tentacle-like hand. It was most definitely a weapon, not a tool. The handle, mottled with runes, reminded him very much of Alais’s dagger.

“There were nineteen days left until the sacrifice. On the nineteenth sunset, the sickle will be stained with the blood of the nineteenth mermaid!” promised Dodger in a sepulchral tone.

Desdemona felt a prick in her heart and a wild fear. Why should she be so frightened? Was she already a mermaid?

She has two slender legs now. She moves them with ease as she treads the polished parquet. If she’s lucky, they won’t grow into a tail again. Though if they do, she has little in common with Moran. He would be better suited to marry a mermaid.

Desdemona felt under Dodger’s gaze like a fish tossed on the sand. Her nineteenth birthday was exactly nineteen days away.

Cold winds

Moran spoke to the ambassadors in the throne room. These were not spies of the sea king, but the most ordinary of men who began choking on water, barely their speech displeased the king. Moran ignored threats of military attack. It was easy for him to sink another fleet, as he was now sinking the ambassadors, without touching them.

Desdemona lurked behind the column and watched a torrent of salty seawater pour from the mouths of the unfortunates. They were choking. Their skin was turning blue. Moran watched their agony with indifference. He would look on the wreckage of the enemy armada the same way.

He was worth fearing. When necessary, he knows how to be brutal.

It’s best to leave him to deal with the affairs of state alone. The throne room with its huge pool began to frighten her. Desdemona hurried away. At the exit, her maids of honor curtsied before her. She didn’t even know all of them by name. But she could hear them whispering about a prophecy of long ago.

Desdemona herself could see the sky over Aquilania growing darker. The people were expecting the worst storm in the country’s history, when the sea would break its banks and either sink the entire kingdom or retreat, barely spilling the blood of one chosen victim.

In the rational opinion of some, even the blood of hundreds of victims will not pacify the surf. But most people in the island kingdoms that depended on the wrath of the elements were sadly not rational. Ancient superstitions reigned here.

The sea in Aquilania was getting colder and colder. A couple decades ago, the coast had been much sunnier and warmer. Now it was cloudy all the time. It was said that in the days of the old ministers’ youth the climate had been so hot that it was impossible to be near the sea without a parasol. Now the waves smelled almost like ice. Strange, considering that just off the coast there was still a tropical paradise, oranges and bananas ripening under the blazing sun. Their groves are often called plantations. The owners of such plantations have a good income, selling tons of pineapples and tangerines to merchants from neighboring countries. The markets of Aquilania are bursting with fruits that ripen only in the heat. The inland is always warm, but the coast is cold without a cloak.

“They say the watermen are angry,” Desdemona had often heard. Some vagrant by the shore, whom the Morgens did not touch, assured the maidens of this. He had once been an oyster diver, but now he collected shells and tried to sell them. Sometimes they found pearls in them.

He liked Desdemona. He looked at her in some special way, as if he saw her as the sacrifice that would save everyone. Did he decide to kill her himself to save the country from flooding?

It is a foolish belief that sacrifice will propitiate the gods, but the people, frightened and helpless before the elements, are ready to cherish any hope, even the most absurd. Even if Moran were against it, the people would gather in droves, revolt, and slaughter the queen themselves over the edge of the sea to placate the wrath of the waves that threatened to flood their homes.

The god is unlikely to choose another victim in return. He needs one in particular. He’s not changing his mind. We can only hope that the greatest storm in history, the one everyone’s waiting for, won’t happen and no sacrifice will be required.

“Queen of Aquilania!” She was called by a lady standing in the shadow of a deserted loggia.

No one addressed her that way. It was etiquette not to substitute “Your Majesty” for anything else. But the sea lady in the green dress knew no etiquette. Desdemona gasped, noticing the scales on her forehead and neck, which vignettes covered part of her skin and went below her neckline.

“I am a guest and so are they,” the lady waved her green webbed hand at a group of ladies at the other end of the loggia. They were very dressed up, but the scales on their skin could be seen too.

“Delegations from the sea arrive regularly, but for some reason the queen is forever absent from the throne room. We have to hover under the dragoness’s breath. Won’t you participate in the local ceremonies?”

Again “you” instead of the respectful “You”, but the sea guest can be forgiven everything, because to look at her it is already a wonder.

“You’re wearing an ordinary crown, not a sea crown,” the scaly lady said dismissively. “That means the king doesn’t like you very much.”

Desdemona recoiled from the train that was moving. It looked like the exquisite lady had a tail under her dress.

“I have seen this ring before,” Desdemona noticed how the large stone in the setting gleamed on the green hand of the morgen lady. The same ring had once glittered on the dead woman’s hand in the rain.

“Was it on the day of Prince Moran’s coronation?”

“Yes.”

“We had a good time then.”

Desdemona glanced warily around at the group of other Morgen ladies. The color of their scales matched the color of their dresses: white, blue, yellow, purple. And it was not a single red one. Moran had said that red scales were the mark of an Oceanid. Then why were the temple mermaids in her dreams red?

“You feasted on the bones of men on the night of the coronation,” Desdemona rebuked.

Morgena did not even understand her. To her such words were not a reproach. She looked with her bright green eyes at the queen. They were the same color as her scales.

“Did you see the rain of pearls that night? Do you know what it meant?”

“Could it mean anything other than another sea magic?” Desdemona wondered.

“The rain of pearls is raining down over the state that is soon to sink and become part of the sea kingdom forever.”

“But we are already part of the sea kingdom, for the morgen rules here.”

“It’s not the same thing. Prince Moran can only be considered a viceroy until the country is completely submerged, he will feel like a stranger here.”

“Is it even with me?”

“And who are you?” The morgena furrowed her embossed green eyebrows.

“I’m actually his wife,” Desdemona muttered uncertainly. Is that her status under the laws of the sea?

“You are an ordinary lady of the earth. You will not be accepted at sea.”

“But I don’t want to go there.”

“But that’s Moran’s homeland.”

“But his roots are from Aquilania. That’s where his mother was born.”

“His mother has a more complicated lineage than your naive Earth head would have you believe. You should have the consciousness of a morgena.”

Desdemona’s mood soured at such remarks. Not all strangers were worth engaging in dialogues with, lest you get upset. For example, the female morgens proved to be very angry with the language.