Free The Mermaid's Madness by Jim C. Hines Page B

fall loose, then twisted a second loop. She adjusted the second loop so a line cut through the first about halfway up. Two of the stones suggested eyes. Lannadae added a third loop, so that blue beads hung beneath the stones. Tears, Danielle realized.
    “What was the price?” asked Snow.
    “Humanity is only half of our nature,” said Lannadae. “With the rest stripped away, Lirea was incomplete. Her human body was imperfect, causing her great pain with each step she took. Morveren wasn’t strong enough to truly change Lirea’s nature, but she wove a second spell, one that would give Lirea everything she wanted.
    “Morveren’s magic would last for six days. By the seventh, Lirea had to secure Gustan’s hand in marriage, binding his life to her own. Their marriage would complete the spell. Lirea would remain human and would live with her prince for the rest of her days. If she failed . . . nobody can survive for long with half of her being torn away.”
    Danielle flinched, thinking of Beatrice. “What happened?”
    Lannadae tugged her hands, eradicating the shape of the face. “He took what he wanted this one last time, then sent her away. Lirea called to us from the shore, her ragged voice full of pain and grief. I found her ready to end her own life. She told us how he rebuffed her.
    “I begged her to wait, to let my sister and me help. We sought out Morveren, who prepared the knife you saw. Morveren said that only the life of Lirea’s prince could sustain her now. If he would not bind his life to hers, she would have to take it from him.” Her index finger hooked the center of the cord, elongating it into the shape of a blade.
    “She killed the man she loved?” asked Danielle.
    “Loved?” Talia snorted. “She killed the man who used her.”
    “We brought the knife to Lirea. She wept, vowing not to use it. On the seventh day, as her lungs constricted and her body felt as though it dissolved from within, we persuaded her to return to him to ask again. She did so, telling Gustan she would die without him. He scoffed, saying he had already taken another woman. In her grief, Lirea shoved the blade into his heart.”
    Outside the cave, the crash of the waves had grown louder. The reinforced wall of the rockslide absorbed most of the water’s power, but the pool still pushed Danielle’s legs with each ebb and flow.
    “His life for hers,” said Lannadae. “Lirea survived, though not as Morveren’s magic had intended. Her voice was broken, her body neither human nor undine. Some say it was Lirea’s unfulfilled yearning that trapped her between worlds, whispering to her beloved in the shadows.”
    Tears left salty tracks down Lannadae’s cheeks. She wiped her face, then gripped her cord with both hands, fighting to compose herself. “Thus ends the story of Lirea, daughter of Gwerdhen, of the line of Ilowkira.” She looked up. “Did I tell it well?”
    “Very well,” said Danielle.
    “Afterward, Lirea was changed. For a long time she refused to sing or speak. When at last she began to recover her voice, she blamed Levanna and me for what had happened.” Lannadae no longer spoke in the formal rhythm she had used for her story. She sounded much younger now. “She moved so quickly.”
    Danielle closed her eyes, guessing what was to come next.
    “All three of us had warriors who guarded us against the dangers of the sea. Lirea said she smelled a shark nearby. As soon as the guards turned their attention elsewhere . . .” Lannadae began to tremble. “By the time they pulled Lirea away, Levanna was already dead. Lirea stabbed her with that knife, again and again until the blood clouded the water and turned them to shadows.”
    “With all of her trauma, your father still let her keep the knife?” Talia asked.
    “Would you swim unarmed in the deep ocean?” Lannadae asked. “Would you risk one of the future rulers of your tribe? An undine child receives her first knife as soon as her fingers are