Protagonist Bound (23 page)

Some fifteen minutes later, my dress was dragging on the sand in my wake as my feet were periodically splashed by the cool swell of the rising tide.

Madame Lisbon would’ve been mortified.

The open restroom window had been too tempting an escape to pass up. So, despite the fact that I hadn’t known where it would lead me, I’d chosen to shimmy through it. Not an easy trick, mind you, considering the sheer size of my gown.

As it turned out, my small portal to freedom ended up depositing me in an unmanned dumpster area at the very back of the castle. And—moving quickly and silently in the darkness thanks to my bare feet after that—I somehow managed to sneak over a nearby fence and down an old footpath naturally carved into the cliffside without getting caught. Which, again, I did while wearing this ridiculously poofy dress.

How’s that for stealthy?

Having successfully stayed out from under the line of sight of the castle’s lighthouse and guards on duty, I was now down on the beach and finally alone. The only reminders of the ball were the faint traces of music that danced in the wind. But soon, even they were drowned out by the sound of the waves and the smell of the sea.

The combination of being out here by myself—away from all the pomp and circumstance—and doing something that was against, like, a dozen rules gave me such a rush of calm and delight I couldn’t help but feel elated. I walked along the empty beach in a state of bliss for what seemed like a few minutes. Although I guess it must’ve been a lot longer than that, because when I turned around to survey the way I’d come, the glowing castle on the cliff was so far behind me it might as well have been a firefly.

The wind was starting to pick up then, causing the few seagulls that had been flying around out here to soar off in search of their nests.

For a second I thought about following their example and heading back to the castle. However, that’s when I saw a small stretch of beach that extended out into the ocean about forty yards away. It was a natural path made of piles of sea rocks and stones. And without remorse I soon found myself following the risky, but irresistible impulse to get across it.

It was tricky work, and I had to tread very carefully because the rocks were slippery and it was hard to see. Eventually though, I succeeded in making it to the edge of the strip. Once I did, I put my hands on my hips triumphantly and gazed back at the beach some hundred feet away.

My vision having fully adjusted to the night, from this vantage point I was now able to notice the cliff ’s idiosyncrasies. For one, its shoreline curved in and out like a hunchback’s spine, making it so that only the bluff I’d come down and another on my left could be seen. That second one was nothing like the bluff I had used though. Its edges crept toward the ocean in the form of a plateau with thinning innards that looked like jagged, rocky fingers stretching into the sand.

Even from this distance I could tell it was huge and intricate and one of the most intriguing constructs of terrain I’d ever seen. I considered how deep it went and what lay beyond. But I was unable to ascertain either, as that was where the bluff rounded and caused the rest of the realm’s edge to bend out of sight.

I turned my head and focused on the cliffside itself.

At first it looked as if it had been discolored with dark spots. Then I squinted my eyes and realized that what was actually dotting the cliffside was a selection of caves and crevices jutting in and out of the rock that lined the beach.

In no mood to head back right away, I gingerly sat upon my patch of rock and stared off at these caves, wondering if they were all interconnected and, if so, how intricate the resulting tunnel system must’ve been. Then I wondered if anyone had ever tried to navigate their way through them. And then I wondered about the logic behind leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to help a person find their way back from anywhere. It didn’t seem like the best of laid plans in retrospect, as miscellaneous wildlife could’ve easily just eaten the trail and—

“Well, don’t you look like a fish out of water?”

I let out a small squeak of surprise. I hadn’t expected to see much of anything out here in the middle of the night. But I especially hadn’t expected to see a half-fish, half-human blonde girl pop out of the water and start playing with the taffeta on my hemline.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I usually go hang out by that rock over there,” the mermaid said, pointing to a lightning bolt-shaped formation at the edge of a similar strip of rocks I hadn’t noticed before.

“But it’s taken tonight,” she explained. “Another mermaid and her beau are sucking each other’s faces off. Like, get a coral reef already, am I right? Anyways, hi, I’m Lonna. What’s your story?”

Lonna, Lonna . . . Why does that name ring a bell?

Maybe SJ was right and I should’ve spent less time mocking our lessons and more time listening to them.

Then it hit me. “You’re one of the princesses of Mer. Lonna Langard, right?”

“So? What of it?” the mermaid asked.

“Nothing, just . . . I thought Mer-people weren’t supposed to come this close to shore. What are you doing all the way out here?”

“Same as you, I would guess,” she said. “I needed some space, felt like breaking some rules. Any of that sound familiar?”

I huffed in amusement. “More than you know, Lonna. More than you know.”

We both smiled at the similarity. It was always nice to meet someone you had stuff in common with even if, you know, species wasn’t one of those things.

“I’m Crisa,” I finally said. “Well, it’s Crisanta Knight really. But that’s not the point. It’s nice to meet you, Lonna.”

I extended my hand and in response Lonna put down the piece of taffeta she’d been toying with and reached up to shake it. When our fingers were just a few inches away from touching though, her eyes suddenly widened and she yanked her arm away.

“What are you trying to do, kill me?” she barked angrily as she shot back a solid seven feet in the water.

“What? No. What’s wrong?” I stammered.

Lonna rubbed her wrist as if it was stinging and eyed me carefully. “You . . . don’t know?” she asked.

“Know what?”

“I thought everybody knew.”

“Knew what?” I repeated.

“That bracelet you’re wearing,” Lonna said, gesturing to the gift Marie had given me. “It’s made of pearls.”

“So?”

“
So
pearls are Mer-people’s greatest weakness. They sort of suck the life from our bodies, drying us out like those fish sticks you land folks are so nuts about.”

I raised my eyebrows, genuinely shocked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Lonna replied. “Why do you think we let you two-leggers have all of our oysters for food? We want those things out of the ocean and eaten before they have a chance to grow their awful pearly by-products.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know. Honest. But here, look.” I removed the bracelet and tossed it aside as if it was made of nothing more than plastic beads and string. “Now we’re good, right?” I asked her hopefully.

Lonna twirled her hair for a moment, but then shrugged. “Okay, yeah. We’re good.”

She swam back over to the rocks and swiftly went back to playing with the taffeta at the bottom of my dress. It was a bit of an awkward way for two people to hang out really. But I had already ticked Lonna off once and didn’t want to provoke her any further, so I resigned to let the girl have her fun. Plus, she just seemed so fascinated by the sparkly material that I would’ve genuinely felt bad swatting her away.

Hmm, I guess mermaids—even mermaid princesses—can’t exactly wear fancy dresses underwater.

That sucks.

My new friend’s hair was blonde, like I said, but even at this proximity it was hard to gauge the exact shade due to the fact that it was soaking wet and cloaked in nighttime. Her eyes were bright purple though, of that I was certain, and they matched the seashells she had in her hair and the bathing suit-style top she was wearing.

Finally, after a decent amount of time had passed I decided to try speaking to her again. I wasn’t quite sure how forthcoming she’d be. For one, I’d apparently almost killed her with an accessory a few minutes ago. And two, the Sea Silence Laws said we weren’t supposed to speak to one another at all. But I had to give it a shot.

I mean, come on, how often does one get the chance to chat with an actual mermaid?

“I like your sea shells,” I attempted.

“Duh, everyone likes purple,” Lonna replied absentmindedly.

Okay, so I guess mermaids don’t like small talk. Noted.

I sat there quietly for a couple more minutes until eventually I elected to give conversation another go. Not that having a mermaid play with your dress fabric wasn’t a delightfully strange pastime but, frankly, I was getting bored.

Maybe a more serious topic of conversation would get her to talk to me with sufficient depth. But what could I possibly say to instigate that?

Ooh, never mind. I got it. And it’s so obvious too.

“So, Lonna,” I started all mischievously. “What are your thoughts on the Sea Silence Laws?”

Oh yeah, I’m controversial like that
.
It doesn’t matter if you’re human, fish, or something in between—politics always get some kind of rise out of a person, and Lonna is no exception.

“They’re stupid,” the mermaid replied sharply. “We used to be friends with two-leggers. Made life more interesting, you know—being friends with another species. Of course, ever since those dumb holes started appearing we’ve been shunned like they’re our fault.”

I cocked my head. “What holes?”

“In the In and Out Spell,” Lonna responded. “Stupid, lame-o Fairy Godmothers. Dude, just because you can’t keep your magic junk together doesn’t mean you’ve gotta be totally rude to those of us who know about it.”

“Wait. What?”

Lonna abruptly stopped twiddling the taffeta.

I could see the gears turning in her head as her eyes fogged over and she stared at the wet rock between us. She’d clearly said something she wasn’t supposed to and was internally panicking while attempting to figure out how to play it cool and act like she hadn’t.

“Lonna,” I said, trying to get her to keep talking. “What do you mean by
holes
in the In and Out Spell?”

She didn’t move.

“Lonna, what are the holes?” I tried again more earnestly.

Still nothing.

“Lonna!”

Okay, another lesson learned—don’t raise your voice to a mermaid.

They offend easily.

Lonna’s eyes shot up from the rocks and met mine. Her glowing purple corneas fixated on me so intently, but curiously, that they anchored every bit of my focus.

Then, without warning she tersely huffed and tossed her wet hair over her shoulder. A bit of water hit me in the face, but our staring match at the moment was so intense that I didn’t feel the need to even blink, let alone wipe it off.

“You want answers, Crisa?” she said suggestively, as if posing more of a challenge than a question. “Go and find them yourself.”

Although I seriously would’ve liked to, there ended up being no time to respond to this vague proposition. As soon as Lonna uttered the last syllable of her sentence, she flashed a devious smile, winked at me, and dove back into the water before I could endeavor to get anything else out of her.

She was gone in the blink of an eye. The surrounding world went silent once more except for the sound of the tides. And I found myself alone in the dark with a soggy hemline and way too many unanswered questions.

Twenty-Three Skidd

his is a bad idea,” SJ warned.

I nodded. “You’re right. It’s stupid, reckless, and could have disastrous consequences.”

“I’m so proud of you!” Blue practically gushed as she put on her riding gloves.