Eamon

After forty-five minutes of intense concentration, I step back from my boat to view my handiwork, brush in hand. The still new vessel sits in dry-dock, and on both sides at the bow are painted the same word in stark white letters.

Blossom.

I’ve spent every day of the last two weeks practicing my reading and writing, but painting the letters with a brush was an unexpectedly intense challenge. I mop a line of perspiration from my brow and consider my work with a critical eye.

Not too bad, I decide. Though I wonder if it will prove to be a futile gesture after all.

Blossom’s been gone for so long. I know she said she’d be back this time tomorrow, but I can’t help but feel pessimistic.

What if she doesn’t come back? What if she meant to leave for good and just didn’t know how to tell me?

At home Mother’s been singing all the songs about mermaids she can recall. By now I’ve memorized most of them, but hearing them sung puts me in a surly mood. The other night when I couldn’t take it anymore, I lost my temper with her.

“Can’t you sing something else?!”

“It’s not like you to be so moody. What’s the matter? Get in a fight with your girlfriend?”

Mother always sees right through me.

“She hasn’t been around to fight with. She had to go away for a while.”

“Did she say when she’d be back?”

“With the full moon. But who knows? It’s not like I have anything to offer her. Probably I’ll never see her again.”

“Don’t be so negative. Of course she’ll come back to you.”

“Guess we’ll find out after the full moon…”

The full moon. That’s tonight. In all my life I’ve never paid so much attention to the moon’s cycle as I have since Blossom left me. And tomorrow she’s coming back. Tomorrow, I’ll get to see her again, and show her my boat and how I printed her name on it. I’d better be ready with my lyre and some new songs, and even more cheese pastries than usual.

That is—I should be ready, just in case she shows up. Which she might not.

I’m not excited, I insist as I catch myself grinning with anticipation at the thought of seeing her. It’s not like I’ve got my hopes up or anything. Even if she doesn’t come, I won’t be disappointed, or regret anything I’ve done up till now. Even if I never see that cheeky little mermaid again…

Ah, who the hell am I kidding?

Blossom, you’d better be there tomorrow. If you’re not, I’ll drag the whole Meddio and fish you up myself…

Giorgos

This afternoon I watched my daughter return together with that pesky prince. Their rapport seemed different, no longer comical but serious and oddly intimate, a cause for alarm.

Until now I’d not put too much stock into Prince Malchus’ marriage proposal. Delphine was dead set against him, so there was nothing to worry about.

But something’s changed between them, I sense. And I don’t like it.

I can’t risk losing my favorite tool to this man. I could care less about having the emperor’s own son for my son-in-law—the only thing I care about is keeping Delphine around as my loyal puppet.

I see it’s time I intervened.

Evening comes. Delphine bids me farewell in her usual manner before her transformation. I wait for her to leave before summoning Malchus.

The trade prince arrives, looking remarkably bright and cheerful.

“You seem to be in a good mood, Prince Malchus.”

“Do I?” he grins, completely transparent. Until now he’s been so surly, so unbelievably fixed on his impossible task of winning Delphine’s heart. There’s no way this fool would be so cheerful unless he’d made progress with her this afternoon.

Then it’s as I feared.

“You do indeed, it’s written plainly on your face,” I observe. “I suppose you’re encouraged by the news that they’ve finished loading all the grain and oil onto your ships. Now you’ll be able to head out. Back to Rorthage, perhaps, or east to your father’s campaign in Israe.”

“I’ve left the shipments in the care of trustworthy men. They will see to it the taxes are safely transported.”

“I see. Then, you intend to remain in Sanos?”

“For the foreseeable future, yes.”

I frown. “Your reasons for staying, they wouldn’t involve my daughter, would they?”

Malchus’ predatory eyes narrow on me. “And if they do?”

I sigh. “Sire, I’d hoped it would not come to this… Delphine, you see… well, perhaps you’ve heard the rumors…”

“What, that she is sickly and irresponsible? Such foolish talk. I’ve never seen a more active, healthy girl, nor a more competent, serious worker. It’s evident to me Delphine takes her duties very seriously. Perhaps a bit too seriously.”

“As you say. She is neither sick nor irresponsible, as the rumors claim. But there is… a reason… she cannot marry you.”

“The crown…”

“No, not even that.”

“Then what?”

I hesitate, making a great show of being torn, concerned for my daughter. Malchus is tense, hanging on to my every word.

“Understand this isn’t something that can ever get out.”

“What’s wrong with her?” he demands.

“It’s not so easy to explain. I think maybe it would be best… if you saw it with your own eyes…”

Blossom

I come in my robe and boots to my little seaside cave below the castle. I store my things in the chest and take my swim top from where I left it hanging. Slipping into that and my tool belt, I go to sit with my naked lower half on the ledge and await the transformation.

I’ve learned from experience it’s better to transform on dry land, since the fusing of my legs can take several minutes, and I’ve come close to drowning in the past when I got in the water too soon.

Though the moon rises and sets at different times each day, my transformation always happens at night, for which I’m grateful. This way no one ever sees me coming and going from the palace. 

The full moon peeks out from behind the clouds and its light touches my knees. I see just the faintest sparkle as a crust of scales begins forming over my skin.

No matter how many times I see it I will never cease to be fascinated by the process. How could anyone call me a monster when my tail is this pretty?

Soon, now. Just one more minute.

I undergo transformations less visible as I come into my mermaid form. My senses sharpen, my heart rate slows considerably to around twenty-five beats per minute. I become aware of shapes in the shadows I couldn’t see before, scents carried to me from far across the waves. A sound like footsteps descending…

Someone’s coming down? Who could it be? Father or Lois, perhaps? No, the footsteps are wrong, too solid, too heavy. One of the guards that knows about my curse, then. They must have a message for me.

My transformation complete, I wait for the guard to approach, pulling my long hair away from my neck and letting the strands fall from my arm elegantly in the moonlight. 

The footsteps grow nearer, then stop. I look around impatiently, locking eyes with a figure just fifteen feet away at the foot of the stair.

I freeze. No, that’s not—Malchus?!

My heart jumps in my throat. I have no words, no explanation. Panic holds me fast in its icy grip. Then I hear his words, spoken hardly above a whisper, though they do not fail to reach my sensitive ears.

“Siren.”

Get away!

Without stopping to think, I push myself off of the ledge and into the water, diving out of sight…