Mermaid_ A Twist on the Classic Tale - Carolyn Turgeon [64]
They rode through the forest, surrounded by thick green pines that seemed as tall as the sky, like ancient monsters. It was so different from her last flight, Margrethe thought. This time she was like an arrow. She knew exactly where she was going and what for. This sense of purpose. Desire. Power over her own destiny.
AS THEY’D PLANNED IT, the journey would last seven days. They rode all through the first night and the next day and night, stopping only for short breaks in the woods, and, almost thirty-six hours after stealing down to the castle lawn, they were met on the road by a lord and his servant, who ushered them into a large country estate.
Dawn was just breaking over the countryside as they rode up to the great stone manor.
Margrethe and Edele were taken through the kitchen, their heads covered, and put up in secret in a simple room away from the bustle of the great hall. The guards were housed nearby. The four travelers were given wine and hot meals—all by the same trustworthy servant—before being left alone to sleep through the day. No one else at the estate suspected who these guests were; most of the servants and knights and aristocratic guests didn’t even realize the newcomers were there. The few servants who did notice the extra food leaving the kitchen, the extra linens sent to the laundry, or the extra horses being stabled and groomed, just assumed that the lord’s errant son had returned from his recent bout of carousing, most likely with some hapless maidens in tow.
The next night Margrethe and her companions stole out again, their horses rested and fed and watered. She and Edele looked at each other, smiling with excitement, as the horses rushed forward, so fast that the world blurred around them, into a new life. It was a great adventure. No matter how exhausting, or how dangerous. And it did not hurt that Edele found her rider handsome enough to flirt with as she spent hours on end pressed against him.
They kept doing this—rushing through villages and forests until they came to an agreed-upon destination where servants or guardsmen appeared like specters, out of thin air, to lead them into a large manor, where a lord or lady waited, honored to help the princess and the Northern peace faction on such a worthy mission.
Margrethe was exhausted. No matter how well she slept, her body ached from the long nights spent on horseback, and more and more she just leaned against her guard as the horse raced forward, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to think about Christopher and what it would be like to see him again, how he would react when he saw her. She imagined that he would recognize her instantly, despite her great change in dress, and that his warrior face would soften as he walked toward her and took her in his arms. And as she slipped deeper into fantasy, her own skin took on the mermaid’s sheen, her body was soaked through, and she was leaning over him, pressing her lips to his.
Always she stopped herself, berating herself for such thoughts, forcing herself to look back out at the world passing by her, the landscape slowly becoming more and more green as they approached the range of mountains that split her own kingdom from the Southern part of the land, that caught the cold somehow, trapping it in the North.
On the fourth night they began to ascend the mountains, and, as the sun was setting the next evening, they arrived at the estate of another noble family, nestled among fir trees high on a peak. Here a great feast awaited them. The lord himself rode out to meet them, dressed in rich velvet. He hopped off his steed and bowed deeply to them, kissing both women’s hands.
“I am Lord Adeler, and I am humbly at your service,” he said. “We cannot tell you, Your