Part of Your World (Twisted Tales)(12)
My father may be alive, she signed. That is reason enough to try.
At this the little crab wavered. He clicked slowly along the railing until he was close enough to put a claw on her arm. “Ariel, I miss him, too…but you could be just chasing a ghost.”
“Give up, Sebastian,” Flounder suggested. “She’s already made her decision.”
“I think you’re encouraging her in this!” Sebastian snapped, aiming an accusing claw at the fish.
Flounder rolled his eyes.
He’s not encouraging, he’s helping, Ariel said.
“I could help you more,” Sebastian wheedled. “I can go on land for short periods of time.”
You’re needed down here, to act as my representative. And distraction.
“I am not going to get in front of a crowd of merfolk and…similar ocean dwellers to tell them that their queen has left them to go off on some ridiculous mission by herself! You want to leave, you have to be brave enough to tell them.”
A single sign: No.
She rested a gentle hand on her throat, letting that action speak for itself.
Sebastian wilted. “All right, go. No one has ever been able to stop you from doing anything you wanted anyway—even when it costs you dearly.”
For a moment, Ariel felt her old self surface, the urge to grin and plant a kiss on the little crab’s back. He was right. She did have a habit of swimming in where angels feared to tread. No one could dissuade her once her mind was fixed. And it had cost her dearly.
What could it cost her this time?
“Please tell your sisters, at least,” Sebastian said with a weary sigh, dropping off the edge and scooting himself along the ocean floor toward the throne. With some quick kicks and sidewise crabby swimming he landed neatly on the armrest, the proper place for his official position as the queen’s deputy. “I cannot imagine dealing with them right now.”
Ariel nodded, and then gave him a second nod, eyes lowered: thank you.
And then she swam off so she wouldn’t have to see the looks he and Flounder exchanged.
Her sisters were in the Grotto of Delights, swimming about, well, delightedly; attaching little anemones to their hair, fluffing up seaweed fascinators, rummaging through giant seashells of jewels, pearls, and snails. Ariel could barely remember the time before her mother was killed but she was fairly certain that her sisters had been less frantic in their pursuit of pleasure then. Now they drowned their grief in safe, silly things that required little thought and provided constant distraction.
She ran her hand through a shell bowl absently, letting the trinkets slide through her fingers. Mostly they weren’t cut or polished the way a human jeweler would treat them: they sparkled here and there out of a chunk of brownish rock. A single crystal might shine like the weapon of a god—but be topped by the lumpy bit where it had been prized out of a geode.
Ariel regarded the stones with fascination. Of course they were beautiful. Yet she still found the bits and baubles from the human world, made by humans, far more alluring. Why? Why couldn’t she be content with the treasures of the sea the way the ocean had made them? What was wrong with them that they had to be altered, or put on something else, or framed, or forced in a bunch onto a necklace, in perfect, unnatural symmetry?
“Oh! Are you coming to the Neap Tide Frolic after all?”
Alana swirled around Ariel, her deep magenta tail almost touching her sister’s. Her black hair was styled in intricate ringlets that were caught in a bright red piece of coral, its tiny branches and spines separating the curls into tentacles. The effect was amazing—and not a little terrifying.
Looking around, Ariel realized that her royal sisters were done up more than usual. Once again she had forgotten one of the endless parties, dances, fetes, celebrations, and cyclical observations that made up most of the merpeople’s lives.
No, I’m afraid it slipped my mind, she signed.
“Oh, too bad,” Alana said, making a perfunctory sad face before swooshing away. The sisters had come to expect her absence and no longer even showed disappointment when she declined.
It hurt a little, Ariel realized.
Attina saw her and came over. Despite their extreme difference in age, she was the one Ariel felt closest to. Even if her big sister didn’t fully understand the urge to seek out a human prince, or to explore the Dry World, or to collect odd bits of human relics, she always treated her little sister as gently as she could—despite how gruff she sounded.
“What’s happening?” she asked, swishing her orange tail back and forth. Her hair wasn’t done yet; it was obvious she was devoting all her time to helping the younger sisters with theirs. The only slightly frumpy brown bun was locked in place by sea urchin spikes. “You look…concerned. All royal and concerned.”
Ariel allowed herself a small smile.
I’m going away for a few days.
“Royal vacation! Aww yeah! You could use it, clearly. I’ve been saying for ages now you need to relax and kick back for a bit. Haven’t I been saying that? Your skin looks terrible. I’m so glad you—oh. Not a royal vacation, I can see that now.”
Attina said all these things quickly, one after another: revelation, opinion, realization. When people could speak aloud, Ariel had realized long ago, they spent words like they were free, wasting them with nonsense.
Her sister frowned. “Where are you going?”