Mermaid_ A Twist on the Classic Tale - Carolyn Turgeon [53]
“But if I could choose my own path, thinking only of myself, I would never choose such a life.”
She smiled at him. She loved his old face in this soft light. As vibrant as court life could be, with the music and dancing, the great feasts, her happiest moments had always been with him, learning of all the different ways there were to live in the world. The others at court never seemed to think of anything beyond the castle, building their lives around the whims of the king and his favorites.
“What is it that you would want, Margrethe?”
She thought for a moment. “I would like to read, and to study, the way we always did. I’d like to be a scholar. But I know my place is in the world. Imagine what our kingdom might be, if we succeed, if I could unite the North and South again. I can do that. I have the power to do that, to make peace among us.”
He sat back, and she could see that she had moved him to hope for something he’d not dared to hope for before. “You are not unconvincing,” he said. “I regret now teaching you rhetoric.”
“So we must write a letter to the Southern king and wait for his response. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“You can send a messenger, can’t you? Someone you trust?”
He nodded. “Yes, I can arrange that without too much problem. What will be trickier is getting you there safely.”
“I will be fine,” she said, with a bit of false bravado, spurred by her excitement. “I can ride a horse and wear a disguise as well as anyone.”
He laughed. “You are so young, and so confident.” And she detected a hint of nostalgia, even envy in his voice. “I remember having that kind of confidence, when I was a young man.”
“Maybe this will give you a reason to be confident again, Gregor,” she said.
“I hope so, dear girl.”
She smiled, and a new kind of energy coursed through her. For the first time, the prophecy surrounding her birth felt like something that was a part of her.
Who she was.
MARGRETHE FELT LIKE a new person as she stepped into the hallway, overwhelmed by what she had just decided.
She would go to the Southern kingdom to marry Prince Christopher. Her father would acknowledge the union, and there would be peace. One kingdom. An end to this war.
She was woozy suddenly, and she stopped, leaned against the wall.
She felt so strongly that this was meant to be, it was as if she and he were already married. The prophecies, the mermaid, Gregor’s own past, the convent, the prince arriving battered and nearly drowned on the shore, there at the end of the world, the way he’d looked at her as they stood together in the garden … all of it came together then, so perfectly, and she knew that her life had a purpose beyond herself.
It was what the nuns felt, as they rose in the middle of the night for Matins.
Just then, Pieter turned the corner, having come from the banquet hall. He was with Lens and another guardsman.
“Margrethe?” he asked, rushing to her side. “Are you feeling unwell?”
“No,” she said. She cleared her throat and tried to collect herself.
“You are so flushed.”
“I am just a bit tired, Pieter. I was going to get some air.”
“You were with Gregor, yes?” he said, and his look was not friendly, she realized.
“Yes,” she said. “We were just going over some Greek.”
Pieter gave her a tight smile. “I have not known any other lady to be so schooled.”
She stared at him, astonished at his insolence.
“It was my mother’s wish,” she said. “As you well know.”
“Forgive me, my lady,” he said, bowing. “I mean you no dishonor.”
She swept past him, down the corridor, her heart racing in her chest.
She thought of her mother—pictured her, dark-haired, smiling, soft. Rarely did Margrethe allow herself the luxury of thinking about her mother anymore, but now a feeling of longing passed over her, and she missed her with all the rawness she’d felt at the time of her death.
She stopped in the corridor, overcome. She’d stopped visiting her mother’s quarters shortly after her death, two years