“. . . our newest addition, and our rarest—a beautiful mermaid, caught in the Tortalgan Sea.”
Tallora saw mutual concern from the Theocracy’s diplomats. “An odd choice of beings to keep in captivity,” one said.
“I assure you, Lord Tiran, she is the loveliest creature you’ll ever lay your eyes on.” A pause; Tallora grinned at the empress’ subtle, flickering ire. “. . . if she would appear, that is.”
Tallora settled herself behind the barrier, feigning sleep, lest they catch a hint of her presence.
They remained a few minutes, casually discussing the décor, before the empress proclaimed that she must be sleeping and escorted them away, more quickly than they had entered.
Tallora laughed and stretched her limbs, her tail propelling her to the water’s surface. Sunlight brushed across the waves, sparkling in opalescent hues, her skin illuminate.
Not so long now. Freedom tasted sweeter each day.
At nightfall, Tallora received her next set of guests. Dauriel approached, gaze cast to the floor. She carried no food, perhaps as penance for Tallora’s disrespect. Following behind came a volley of guards and the empress herself, along with the sycophantic creature she called ‘husband.’
Tallora bowed in mockery. “Good to see you, Empress.”
A guard held what appeared to be a small harpoon. In the split moment after Tallora saw it, he shot it through the water.
Directly at the base of Tallora’s tail.
She screamed, pain radiating from the mess of shattered scales. Gasping, she was heaved past the barrier, tearing through and flopping onto the stone floor.
Blood seeped from the wound. The guard ripped it from her tail, causing further pain and mess. Shock pulsed through her blood. Tallora whimpered at the leering eyes above her, helpless upon the floor.
“I don’t take kindly to insults,” the empress said. She snapped her fingers; two guards knelt beside Tallora, forcing her arms against the ground. A third crouched beside Tallora’s tail, a knife in his hand.
She whipped her powerful tail about, panic stealing her voice. Another set of guards steadied her bloodied fin and tail. Overpowered, Tallora sobbed.
“I’ve read enough about fish and merfolk to know the damage won’t be permanent. But perhaps this will prevent you from hiding for a few weeks.”
Pain seared the base of her tail. Tallora looked down and saw the guard with the knife slashing strips into her fin, mutilating the sinew and muscle. She screamed, writhing in agony at each brutal slice.
It stretched for what felt like hours. Tears leaked from her eyes; she screamed all the while.
Though the pain lingered, the hold on her arms and tail released. Tallora realized the fin had been cut away. Her tail ended in a bloody, pointed stump.
“Lovely work,” the empress cooed. “Place her back in the tank.”
Tallora barely felt the rough arms lifting her from the ground, so great was her pain. Water enveloped her; Tallora floated to the bottom of her cage, lacking the will to move. Instead, she sobbed into the sand.
“You’re lucky your insolent behavior didn’t affect foreign relations—otherwise I might’ve offered you roasted on a spike to sweeten the deal. This is your warning, Mermaid. Take care your disrespect doesn’t outweigh your usefulness.”
The words faded. Tallora thought she heard footsteps but merely continued sobbing.
The great, gaping holes bled into the water. When Tallora dared to look up, her audience had left—all except Dauriel, no pride in her stance. Upon meeting her eye, the princess whispered, “I tried to warn you.”
Tallora fell back into a supplicant’s stance, weeping into her arms.
When Tallora awoke from what she prayed was a nightmare, the lingering pain in her tail revealed the damning truth.
Tallora laid on the sand for days, occasionally summoning the will to pull herself along with her arms. She tried, in a single desperate moment, to swim with her stumped tail, no fins to propel her, to failing results.
She ignored her food. It piled upon the stone platform. She ignored Dauriel, who brought it every night and lingered, making vain attempts to talk. Tallora simply shut her eyes and breathed, content to waste away and die.
It would grow back. There was hope in that, distant and flickering. But that would be weeks from now, and Tallora had been promised the goddess’ aid in mere days.
She prayed, when she felt the inclination. Her mindset remained dark, bitterness seeping into her thoughts. Staella promised aid, and that was a miracle. Tallora wondered, however, if this were a penance for a crime she did not know. She lay serene in hell, the pain in her tail settling to a dull throbbing.
In time, she picked at her food. To accept Staella’s aid, as the goddess herself had said, would mean for Tallora to save herself, be given a fighting chance. Yet doubt threatened to ruin her resolve—what if it had been a dream and nothing more?
Visitors came. Eniah tried to speak through the barrier more than once, asking his mother why she languished. The empress said she was sick but would recover better than before.
Tallora’s broken spirit. Better than before.
The new moon came, and Tallora had nearly forgotten. But when the sun set and no moon rose to replace it, she realized the day had come. She looked up to the sky, a sudden burst of hope spurring her to sit up. Clasping her hands, she whispered, “Goddess Staella—”
A tug in her soul cast her gaze to the sky, a streak of light calling to her in the night.
A falling star?
It grew brighter with each passing moment, twinkling against the radiant array of celestial lights. When it slowed, Tallora saw it was not a star, no—and it quite suddenly dropped into her pen, into the water, and gently floated down.
Tallora crawled toward it, inching forward with her hands and tail. A small vial, she realized, as she dug it from the sand. No instructions, no explanation; simply a bottle filled with shimmering liquid, stopped with a weighted, metal top.
Footsteps alerted her to another presence. Tallora buried the vial in the sand, heart beating rapidly. Dauriel’s presence was no surprise, but Tallora wished, of all nights, the cursed princess could have been late.
They matched eyes, and the princess looked surprised, brow furrowing at the attention. “You seem to be feeling better,” she mused, sliding the tray of food past the watery barrier. “I’ll admit, I wondered if you’d lay in the sand and die.”
No mockery in her words, but Tallora felt offense rise, nonetheless. “It would certainly make your life easier if I did. No, princess, it’ll take more than mutilation to end me.”
“There are healers to whom I could plead your case. My mother’s wrath be damned—you’ll have your fins regrown.”
“How lovely. You’ll mutilate me, then grovel to gain my sympathy.” Tallora returned to the sand, laying down to face the stars, silently decreeing their conversation done.
“I tried to prevent this. I warned you of my mother’s wrath. I pled with her to give you more time—”
“In your quest to tame me?” Tallora rolled over, the sand pressing against her torso. “To sway me with your unpleasant company? You’re many things, princess, but I can’t say charming is one of them.”
Dauriel glared, but behind it, Tallora swore she saw a glimmer of regret, those silver eyes softer than velvet. “I could say the same.”