1. A Princess
In my day, we had fantastical feasts when I lived in the palace.
#
The young mermaid drifted into the sandbank, exhausted. Her unsuspecting tail had been sore for days now, the stingray leather of her pack dug into her skin, flashes of light blurred her vision. Should she have waited longer, prepared better? She shut her eyes, willing the hallucinations away. She had a longstanding arrangement of mutual disappointment with her muscles, but she needed her mind clear. When she opened them the flashes remained, but they seemed to come from behind the bank. Propelling herself with more hand than fin, she crested the dune and gasped, pain and doubt floating away: before her, pearl spires and coral archways glittered softly in the current. At last, the Capital.
She swam through gardens and plazas, ever wider brown eyes darting everywhere. She had told herself she would not gape like a country bumpkin. She failed. It was the first real city she had seen, and it was much larger, and wealthier, than she had expected. And there were so many people. Thousands of merfolk bustled about on apparently very important and urgent errands, surrounded by all kinds of equally busy sea creatures. She glimpsed a whaleshark down one alley, angry commuters grumbling as they swam around it.
The mermaid was suddenly acutely aware of being watched, strangers' eyes lingering slightly longer than necessary. This was depressingly familiar territory. Sighing, she erected the usual defenses: she hunched her shoulders, stared at the ground, and tried her hardest to become invisible. It seemed to work at first, until she was forced to wait for that very whaleshark to ponderously glide through a crossing. Why did they even allow that thing in the city? The merman beside her put the thought into words.
"…loyal subject like anybody else," the whaleshark huffed in a deep bass. "Same rights as everybody…" It probably wasn't the first time the issue had arisen that morning.
In her annoyance she had let her guard down: the merman had noticed her. She tried to turn away, but he was already speaking. She steeled herself for the insult, probably referencing the dark scales that set her so clearly apart from other colorful merfolk.
"Hello there. You don't look like you're from around here."
She blinked.
"Do you know where you're heading?"
She didn't, actually. Was he sweetening her up for a bigger fall?
"The Palace," she whispered.
"Ah," he said cheerily, "just keep heading this way and you can't miss it – it's the big building that looks fit for a King. Should've known a charming person such as yourself was meant for better things," he added, winking.
Eyebrows furrowed, she scanned his face for the irony that had to be there. She was surprised to find none.
The merman's smile was undaunted. "Well, g'day, then," he nodded, humming as he went his way.
The mermaid stayed where she was, trying to understand what had just happened. He had been earnest. Was this what it felt like to be thought beautiful by those around you? She reassessed the looks she was getting: they were not of despise, as she had known all her life, but of admiration, lust, even envy. Beautiful people lived in such a different world than others – a world in which strangers smile, and wink, and help. She couldn't deny she liked it – all people, pretty and ugly, have egos after all. She swam on, a tiny smile on the corner of her mouth.
#
The stranger was right, she quickly spotted the main dome towering over the surrounding structures. It seemed to be always around the next corner, only to recede behind a new line of increasingly elaborate buildings when she got there. The buildings finally gave way to carefully tended coral gardens crossed by swirling colonnaded paths. The Palace.
The mermaid might not be a fancy city-dweller, but she had enough sense to watch those who were. Young couples and trios swam leisurely through the gardens, but kept off Palace grounds. The swordfish sentries seemed alert. Coercing long black hair into a semblance of presentability, she swam to the nearest guardpost.
"Yes, mam?" said the sentry, barely glancing at her. Beauty standards didn't cross species barriers very well: the sentries seemed rather alike to her, and she suspected the reverse was true. Of course, growing up in the north, everyone seemed to know someone who knew someone who's daughter had run away with an octopus, to the scandal of both communities. The mermaid knew even less about love than she did about beauty, but if it was possible to fall in love with someone's mind, could the species barrier matter that much? She watched the light dance on the sentry's silver scales. She'd never considered running away with a merman, but she didn't think she'd do it with a swordfish either.
"I would speak to the Steward, please," she said.
The sentry's hard eyes flashed annoyance. "One moment." It shot towards the Palace. It returned several moments later with a middle-aged merman. His tattoos and jewelry could have told her rank and lineage, had she known how to read them, but looked important.
"I am Lord Forvalter. What can I do you for?" he asked, his smirk considerably sharkier than the stranger's. Her extensive experience with harassment had not prepared her for this particular kind. Even beauty had its drawbacks. Was it possible to be somewhat pretty, but not pretty enough to draw the creeps? Probably not. Maybe she just needed to find nicer people. But would they want to find her?
She handed Forvalter the letter, badly worn from travel.
He cracked the seal and cocked an eyebrow. "Lady Ursula?"
"Daughter of Lord Bjorn," she said.
Eyebrow remained cocked.
"Vassal to Lord Stenhule," she added helpfully.
"Of course, in Normarch," Forvalter said in a friendlier tone. "Terrible business with those octo-savages. And the rest of your luggage, milady?"
She looked away. "We are not a wealthy House, milord…"
Forvalter had the decency to look embarrassed. "I beg your pardon. Nobility is certainly not to be found in riches." His gaze suggested it might be found between her black seashells.
"The raids have been bad this season," said Ursula. "The royal regiment is much anticipated."
"Yes, well," the Forvalter mumbled. "Let's get you settled in."
#
Forvalter led her through a maze of sculpted hallways, light cleverly filtering in through window and bioluminescent candelabra. He stopped by an unadorned door, knocked, put his head inside and whispered. Ursula didn't hear any answer, but he straightened, and half-bowed half-saluted as he swam away. The door was ajar, but the interior was dark. Was she expected to enter?
"Come in, child. I'm a very busy woman and I haven't got all day."
The room was furnished with a desk and very little else. A white-haired mermaid was reading the letter by the glow of a single blue globe, tattoos wrinkled with age. She wore less jewelry than her station probably warranted.
"I am Madam Noje," she said without taking her eyes off the page. "Until the Prince returns and is properly wed, I am responsible for the Royal Household. I did not know Lord Bjorn had a daughter."
"I am the youngest," said Ursula. "Mam."
Tired grey eyes looked up at her. "So you are. With the arrangements made for your brothers, I expect your father could hardly afford a respectable dowry. But with your looks, you could probably get away with a discount. So he sends you to Court for an education, to find the best match you can."
"Yes, mam," said Ursula, taken aback by the bluntness.
Noje sighed. "Very well, we will put you up with the other hopefuls. We need to discuss your training. What was your upbringing in Normarch? Not much, I imagine."
"No, mam," said Ursula. "I was hoping to study literature."
"Literature?" scoffed Noje. "Literature will not get you a husband, darling."
"Actually, mam, given the choice, I would prefer to join the Palace staff," said Ursula. "Perhaps as a librarian."
Noje looked more closely at her. "Careful what you wish for, darling. You might end up a wrinkled old governess to hormonal teenagers. Come with me."
#
Ursula followed Noje down further hallways and over chasms to neighboring towers. She caught glimpses of the gardens and the city beyond, but was never sure whether she was looking at the same view. Noje pushed through a tall double door. Windows stretched the full height of the hall, soft light dancing on shelves upon shelves of…
"I can't believe it," said Ursula, swimming closer. "I've never seen so many books in all my life!"
"You may soon wish there were fewer," said Noje.
They approached the nearest table, where a mermaid was carefully painting patterns on her purple scales.
"Lady Marina," said Noje.
The mermaid bolted upright and bowed. "Mam."
Noje examined the neatly stacked books on the table. "Impressive how you find the time for your chores amid your beauty care."
"Mam."
"This is Lady Ursula," said Noje. "She will be taking over your library duties. Please show her around."
"Of course, mam," said Marina, smiling.
With the curtest of nods, Noje swam away.
"That woman has a sea urchin up her butt," sighed Marina.
Ursula laughed. "It's so much larger than I imagined," she said, looking over the shelves.
Marina faced her, smile melting off. "Listen, black-tail. I'm not here to be your friend, I'm here to marry someone of my station. Which, judging by the embarrassing lack of jewelry, you are very far beneath. So do us both the favor. Also," she added, whipping the books off the table, "you better get stacking."
Ursula was speechless as the mermaid left, fingers wrapped protectively around her lone nautilus necklace. Marina, in contrast, sported round lilac earrings and pink beads in her long purple hair. Beauty wasn't enough. There would always be people with more money or better blood, or both. She looked at the pile of books on the ground. The inscriptions on the spines were cryptic, the shelves unending. She had no idea how to even start.
#
"Hey, Marina, could you give me a hand with…"
Books collapsed around Ursula, burying her. She considered staying there forever, where people like Marina couldn't find her. Unwelcome light dashed the thought as tomes were removed.
"I'm so sorry, I couldn't see where… Oh. You're not Marina."
"No, I am not," said Ursula, breaking free. "As she's made abundantly clear."
"She can get a little grumpy sometimes. You must be new here. I'm Athena."
Ursula looked at the young mermaid. Red hair was very rare in the north.
"Ursula," she replied cautiously. "You're on library duty too?"
"Not really," said Athena, "just helping out."
"Looks like you were doing most of the work."
"Well, Marina can get a little distracted sometimes," said Athena. "But she's my friend."
"Not a very good one," said Ursula.
"I try to see the best in people," Athena said more firmly.
"How's that working out for you?" said Ursula.
"It's gotten me this far," said Athena. "How about you?"
"What, expecting the worst in people?" said Ursula. "It's less disappointing."
"Yet you don't seem happy about it," said Athena.
"This is how I do happy," Ursula said grimly. "I need to restack this mess and I have no idea how to do it."
"That almost sounded like asking for help," said Athena.
Ursula gritted her teeth. "Please?"
Athena smiled. "Gladly. Shelves are arranged by topic: History, Oceanography…"
"Magic?" asked Ursula.
"Goodness, no," said Athena. "Dangerous books are locked away."
"You're good at this," said Ursula, sorting. "Why not sign up?"
"I like helping," said Athena. "But my heart's not really in books."
"Where is it?" asked Ursula.
Athena blushed. "You'll think it's stupid."
"I'm hard to disappoint, remember?" said Ursula.
"I love to sing," said Athena. "But Marina says that's not the same as being good at it."
"You have a pretty voice," Ursula mumbled.
"Really? You think so?" said Athena.
Ursula picked up a stack. "Shall we start with the History shelf?"