One night, sitting on a step with her feet comfortably lodged underwater in cool, slimy moss, a familiar sound wafted down to her from the high turrets of the palace. It was the haunting, terrible music that had imprisoned her so long ago and her heart began to race. Instantly, she was on her feet and running, her wet hem clinging to her ankles and copper bracelets jangling. She followed the music as she clambered up the floors, sometimes finding herself in empty rooms and courtyards, on the verge of hysteria when the music stopped. But the music would always begin again, and with her stomach in a sick, twisted ball centring her entire body, she burst onto a balcony and there he was.
He had his back to her, and under his chin rested a beautiful instrument of gleaming wood. He stroked its sorrowful strings with an elegant tapered bow, and the music caused her body to become racked with pain. She approached him slowly, and from an angle, she saw the artful slope of his jaw as it nursed the instrument. She began to run toward him, and as her body slammed into his, the instrument flew from his hands in surprise. As it landed on the ground there was a sound of wood cracking. But they didn’t care. He kissed her fiercely, his hands grasping both sides of her face so tightly her head was sure to explode. Their bodies wound themselves together and they became fused with that moment in time. As the ocean roared beneath them and the stars cast their silly, useless light, the little mermaid tasted pain and depravation and something sickeningly salty. She sucked all of it right out of him.
After a very long time, when they had both run out of air, the little mermaid released herself and took a deep breath, staring at the face of her beloved. Her breathing soon turned into a gasp and a cold fist clenched her insides. She pushed him away with a violence she did not know she possessed.
“Why are you so angry?” said his beautiful, honeyed voice, and she launched herself at him and slapped him across his cheek. It was then and only then, did she realise her mistake: for the parasite that had lived on his face was gone. Her palm tingled from the smoothness of his skin, and even in the weak light, she could make out her handprint on his bare cheek. “Did you really think I was him?”
She shook her head, not in disagreement but in disbelief, for the man standing before her was so much like her Prince, yet so different. Suddenly she understood the hankering of the maids, and the female laughter beyond his closed doors. In a split-second, she imagined herself in his bed, being kissed like moments before, undressing and doing all of those unspeakable things the Personal Maid had divulged. And she had thought it all impossible then. The area between her legs felt strange.
“Is it this that’s upsetting you?” he put a hand up to his face. “It’s only been shaved. I thought it was high time. It can grow back, you know. Is that what you want?”
And the little mermaid shook her head so furiously that the Uncle laughed, which made the girl even angrier. I… hate… your… animal! she mouthed, and he read her lips and laughed.
“Animal? This? It’s called a beard, and it is made of hair. Men grow hair on their faces just like women grow hair on their…” and his voice trailed off, and he glanced down the mermaids body impertinently.
But the little mermaid did not understand the innuendo, and her eyes began to sting mysteriously. The Uncle reached for her, but she wrenched away from his touch and turned her back to him, staring at the ocean and trying to draw a line between this man and the man she loved.
“I haven’t kissed anyone like that,” came the Uncle’s voice from behind her, “since my wife. I was married once,” he continued, “and we were happy. We lived here in this palace. We had a little daughter. But the kingdom was at war so I sent them away to an isolated village far from here to protect them. They were due to attack the palace from the water at any time. But their army did not begin here. They came across the back of the country, and they murdered and pillaged every town, every village they came across. My wife’s was one of them.
“They never found her body. I wanted to believe that she was captured, so I left and I searched for her for a long time. It was an unhappy mission, because in my heart I knew she was dead, and it was all for nothing. They found my daughter’s body. They brought it back to me, but by that time, it was old and decaying, half-eaten by dogs. But I held my girl in my arms until they forced me to let go and that stench did not leave me for years.
“And now, this mute girl from nowhere enters my life and everything changes. You know enough about our people now to understand when a man is offering himself to you. Don’t let me resort to begging.”
As much as she was moved with pity for him, she could not betray her love for the Prince. For he was the true reason her tongue was sliced out, not this second-hand man before her. Her certainty was so strong that nothing could persuade her otherwise. Yet why did she hesitate? The Uncle saw her battle and said, “You’re not really in love with him, you know. You just imagine you are.”
The statement was like a paper cut that severed her whole body, right from left. In a red rage, she pushed him away from her and marched toward the doorway.
“Why are you really angry?” called his infuriating voice after her. “The fact that you kissed me, or because it was my music that brought you here?”
Many nights later, one of several fitful nights of doubt and illusion, the little mermaid awoke from a dissected sleep to a great commotion in the hallway. There were voices, many raised and excitable voices, and with a jolt she realised that one belonged to the man she’d been avoiding since the night on the balcony. There were footsteps, heavy and quick, and several people speaking at once, then silence again. Suddenly, the voices started up again, weighty opinions and indignant tones colliding harshly. The little mermaid slipped out of bed and opened her door a fraction.
As she peered out her heart leapt, for one of the people caught in the uproar was the Prince. He looked better than ever, but she noticed that his voice was not raised in anger, but excitement. He appeared weary, and his travelling clothes seemed to wilt against the heat of his body. The Uncle was standing opposite him, arms folded across his chest in challenge, glaring at his nephew. He looked positively furious. Surrounding them was a throng of court advisors, who revelled in making their opinions known, and were not reported to be shy.
Before she knew what she was happening, she had emerged from her chamber and entered the hallway. The men fell silent at the sight of the pale girl in a thin shift, and the ring of people loosened and began to slowly disperse. The Prince’s eyes lit up when he saw her, and he smiled at her strangely. He tilted his head to the side a little awkwardly and said, “It’s great news, isn’t it?”
“Hardly,” muttered the Uncle darkly. He would not glance in the mermaid’s direction.
But the Prince did not advance toward her in greeting, but stood perfectly still. An odd expression crossed his features.
“Now is not the time,” warned his Uncle in withering tones.
“When is it not the time for love?” replied the Prince, and he smiled – the biggest, queerest smile the mermaid had ever seen. His mouth reminded her of the peel of an orange, when it is pared with a knife into a long, spiral snake. She shuddered and her eyes grew wide with fear. And there, in his eye, a new light blazed like a beacon, the light she had been waiting for.