Mermaid_ A Twist on the Classic Tale - Carolyn Turgeon [37]
And then she thought of the brightness of the upper world, the sun streaming down, the infinite variety of sounds. The men falling from the ship, dying, screaming for life. And his lips under her own, the softness. She imagined herself with two legs, walking to him. His soul, already inside her—she knew it—joining with hers. A holy man marrying them, fusing their souls so that they would be together forever. She thought of Margrethe praying in the convent on the cliff. In the sea, Lenia would die, turn to foam, become nothing. All of this now would end. But with the prince, she could live in heaven forever.
“There is one more thing,” Sybil said.
“What else?”
“The price. It is how magic works, Lenia. What you are asking for is so great, you must also give up your greatest asset in exchange. Every merperson who asked this before you has had to do it. The potion will not work without it.”
“But what else do I have to give, if I’m willing to give up my place, my family, the sea?”
“Your voice.”
She clutched her throat automatically. “My voice?”
“Your beautiful voice.”
“But … how can you take that?”
Sybil looked pained as she spoke. “To do this, my child, I would have to cut out your tongue.”
“My tongue?”
“Yes. You would not be able to sing, or to speak.”
“My tongue,” Lenia repeated. “How could I make him love me, if I’m unable to speak to him?”
“You would have your form, your beautiful movements, your expressive eyes. You have more gifts than you realize. And in the upper world, they would be that much stronger. Humans can sense that there is something special about a merperson, though of course they do not know what it is they are sensing.”
Lenia’s mind was spinning. What would it be like to have no voice? Her voice was so much a part of her, who she was. Her singing, which could so easily move her fellow creatures to despair or laughter. It was a gift, simply, something she’d been born with. Not something that had ever mattered much to her, but even so, she could not imagine herself without it. Maybe it was for this, though, that she’d been given it. To have this.
Sybil leaned forward, taking Lenia’s hand into her own. “This is not a decision you can reverse. Do not make it lightly. Take some time to think about what it will mean.”
Lenia nodded. “And if I decide to do this, you will prepare a potion for me?”
“Yes. I can prepare a potion for you, and then take your payment. That is the last part of the spell.”
“And afterward, I could go to him? Right away?”
“Yes.”
Lenia was wild with excitement, possibility. Could she really leave everything, all she’d ever known, give up her voice? For him? All of that for him?
She thought of the prince so soft and warm in her arms. A web of light moving from him into her, expanding, filling her. Everything she’d ever wanted, right within her grasp.
CHAPTER NINE
The Princess
THEY RODE ALL DAY AND THROUGH THE NIGHT, THE steady, heavy rhythm of hoofbeats carrying them forward. They passed through pristine forests of giant snow-laced pine trees. They galloped through villages and walled cities. They raced across long stretches of countryside scattered with huts and farms, all of them iced over now, glittering under the winter sun.
In village after village, peasants and merchants appeared in windows and at doorsteps to catch sight of the king, his royal guard, and the rescued princess. The story had spread like fire: that the enemy prince had stolen into a convent where the princess had been in hiding, that he’d gone there to murder her, and that the king had arrived just in time to save her. All over the kingdom, people were enraged. The king’s coat of arms was displayed in windows and on shop doors. People stood in the streets and screamed for blood. Peacetime was over.
To go to war was one thing. To steal