CHAPTER FOUR

"Their names were Pearl and Ryne."

"I know," I said, then added, frowning, "I thought it was Ryan."

"I told you that because it's a more common name in the United States." She tapped on the soft arm the couch in a gesture I recognized as one she used when nervous. "I also lied about... well, about who they were, in about every aspect. They were married, weren't in their teens when you were born --- your mother was twenty, your father twenty-four, both old souls --- and neither went to 'college,' although both are very educated. Well, I supposed they'd have to be, wouldn't they?" She looked amused. "They're the king and queen here, which probably won't surprise you."

This was ridiculous. Completely, totally, utterly ridiculous. And yet, for some reason, I believed her. I couldn't have said why --- there were, as far as I could see, no reasons for doing so --- but I knew she was telling the truth.

There was a brief silence, during which I stared at the table, not wanting to meet anyone's eyes. What exactly did this mean, for me, and for my mom? She was my mother, much more than this Pearl person. Sure, we didn't always connect, and I sometimes felt an awkward sort of distance... well, this would explain it, wouldn't it?... but living with someone for seventeen years, with all the bedtime stories and chauffering and scraped knees that entailed, couldn't be shrugged off lightly.

"You know that book you have?" she said, breaking into my thoughts. "The Little Mermaid?"

I nodded.

"True story. They're your parents."

No wonder the castle had seemed so familiar. I remembered it now: a watercolor sketch of a shining palace on an island, ringed by a wall and forest. The prince's palace.

Again, it was ridiculous --- stupid --- impossible. And again I knew it was true.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Looking relieved at my lack of outburst, Mom said, "It wasn't safe. That's the same reason you weren't raised here."

"What does that mean, 'safe'?" I asked. I glanced from Mom to Nereida and back again. "What's going on?" Out the window behind us I just caught a glimpse of a seagull coasting past the castle on some gust of air. For a brief moment, I longed for his freedom.

"You know the end of the story, where the prince's fiancee leaves him to the mermaid?"

"Yeah."

"Well, she did leave. We thought she'd left graciously --- that surprised me, you know. I'd never liked her. It turns out, however, that she was just busy planning revenge. Her name is Rochelle, and she is... she is not a nice person."

"She never wanted to marry the king for love," said Nereida. "Although heaven knows she tried to seduce him enough. He almost fell for it. But she was after land, and power."

I frowned. The ocean could be seen on either edge of this island --- distantly, to the back of the palace, for there was the city there. It was a small city, though, and beautiful as it and the castle were, it didn't exactly seem a gold digger's paradise.

"Sorry," I said. "It's gorgeous and everything, but ---"

"Merlana is much larger than what you see here," Mom said, nodding. "And very wealthy, and very powerful. Ther monarchs hold authority and magic, the likes of which even most of the court does not fully comprehend."

"Magic," I repeated. Well, duh. Mermaids weren't exactly suburban.

"Huge amounts," Nereida said. "Which you will inherit."

This was a new thought, not, perhaps, original, but coming to me for the first time in all its import. If Ryne and Pearl were king and queen, that made me... princess. Which equaled future queen, as there appeared to be none of those chuavanistic laws that forbade women on the throne here.

"So," I said. "This Rochelle was going to do what?"

"Kill you," said Nereida calmly.

Nice.

"She's tried several times already."

Even better.

"Your adopted father ---" she started, but stopped abruptly at a violent gesture from my mother. This, of course, got my immediate attention.

"What?"

"Never mind," she said, shaking her head and getting that closed off look I knew too well. I wasn't about to give up that easily. This was weird enough; I wanted all the information I could get.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Mom."

"She'll find out sooner or later," said Nereida quietly. Mom pursed her lips. Finally:

"She murdered Robert," she said in a carefully neutral voice. "Or Roberto, as he was known here."

Dad. An image passed through my head of him, pale and thin, lying in bed.

"No, she didn't," I said, too quickly. Her eyes were distant. I didn't like it. "Cancer ---"

"Was how we disguised it. She'd hidden a spider in your bed. A hobo. Not unsual, but it was under her control, and she'd... done something to it. Made it lethal, very lethal. It was supposed to get you, but bit him instead." Her voice grew dark. It frightened me. My mother was always in control, and strong. She'd been sad after his death, but she'd moved on, or so I'd thought. Apparently I was wrong. It wouldn't have been the first time, clearly. "A slow death, painful, with no remedy."

"I'm sorry," I said after a moment. I felt incredibly guilty... but how could you apologize for something like that?

"It's not your fault," she said, patting my on the hand, her customary hesitation returned. "Anyway," she continued briskly, "Roberto never regretted it, and never would. He'd promised Ryne he'd protect you, and he did. He was a knight, you see."

"The greatest knight in the realm," Nereida said. "His Majesty's most loyal and courageous. And your foster mother is Her Majesty's closest friend. That's why they were selected as your guardians. Well-chosen for the task, if I may say so."

Mom smiled. "Well, anyway," she continued. "Rochelle's not gone. She's never been formally accused of everything, at least not after the first assassination attempt."

I was under threat of assassination, not murder. How prestigious.

"Our sources have always been vague and shadowy, often magical," Nereida said. "It's hard to accuse with so little proof, especially against such a powerful nation and queen." Mom nodded.

"So she's still at large. There haven't been any attempts in recent years, so we're all hoping she's tired of these petty games." Her voice was bitter. I wanted to comfort her somehow, but didn't know what to do.

"So why am I here now?" I asked.

"You're almost eighteen," Mom said.

"And?"

"At that age the descendants of Merlan --- first kind of Merlana --- begin to recieve their inheritance and start training in earnest," Mom said. "But why you came just now, I don't know. Nereida?"

"The tides told the shephards that it would be a good time. Rochelle is busy with internal politics and a new lover, and it's unlikely she's giving much thought to this right now. She knows it's about time, of course, but we let it out in subtle channels that we inend to bring her home --- you home, excuse me, Highness --- on her --- your --- birthday."

"I see," said Mom, while I tried to adjust to the idea of my new title. I shivered. Nothing here was familiar. Nereida, strong and beautiful and totally foreign, and my mother, suddenly vulnerable and connected with magic and mermaids and a mysterious sunlit island, sat around me, each spinning such tales as would seem the products of nightmare had I not been so totally convinced that they were true.

"What kind of training and inheritance are we talking?" I asked, for something to say. Nereida stood.

"You'll hear all about it later," she said. "I would endeavor to answer your questions now, but I've just noticed the time, and you'll be needing to get ready for dinner. And to meet your parents, of course." She dipped a brief curtsy, while I blinked in an idiotic manner.

"Come on," Mom said as Nereida left. "I'll help you dress. It was suggested that servants be sent up, but I thought you mind handmaidens a bit awkward at first."

I nodded. "Thanks." She stood, and I followed suit. A thought struck me, and I said, "What's my name?" At her quizzical look, I said, "Well, Ryan is Ryne, Dad's Roberto, you're Lisette; am I Maren or something?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No. You're still Marina --- a bridge between land and sea. None of your parents --- and I include Roberto and myself in that, if I may be so bold --- thought it unfair to take that away from you."

"Oh," I said, then added, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, come on. I'll get the bath running. You'll find a bathrobe in your bedroom, through that door. Do you want to rummage through your clothing or shall I pick something out for you?"

"You go ahead," I said. "I have no idea what's... you know. Appropriate."

"Right. Hurry up, now. I'm sure they'll be anxious to see you again."