Prelude (The Rhapsody Quartet) (7 page)

“Is it too small to see?”

“Well, yes, but even if it was large enough to see a dot floating around, you have to remember how our eyes work. They change color to match the water we’re in. This water is pretty clear, so the scale is pretty clear, too.”

“Why do we need to talk to your father?” Stacie seemed like she was fairly independent, and the servants all obeyed her as if she was the lady of the house. I’d never met the elusive Mr Robinson before, nor had I heard of anyone who’d seen him personally.

“My father,” she snorted, making air quotes with her fingers, “
‘His Majesty King Dorian Ocean Kai Whitecrest of the Oceanids’
needs to know how emergency situations are handled.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure we’ll be summoned soon to hear what he thinks in person, but for now I’m supposed to report important things like this to him. Princessly duty,” she scoffed.

“So
you’re
the Princess of the Mermaids?” I asked her. I wondered if I really was dreaming. Everything today had been on the hugest scale possible, it seemed.

“Not as great as you might think,” she muttered, looking tense, “but yes. I’m the heir to the throne.” It was clear that Stacie had a problem with authority, or at least was a bit hostile towards her father. I couldn’t tell which, but regardless, she didn’t seem to like her role. Her birthright explained why she acted so entitled at school, if nothing else.

“Are you going to be in trouble for helping me?” I asked, suddenly feeling anxious. Stacie’s choice to assist me came before she knew the scope of the issue, how dire it was. True, she didn’t seem especially concerned about Rick or Susan personally, but something like this must be cause for a scandal, right? Maybe not. I didn’t know enough about extras, yet.

“No,” she said, inhaling sharply, “not at all. It’s protocol. But if I’d let you just slide past me, under the radar?” She whistled low, “
Big
trouble.”

One of the maids walked straight to Stacie and said, “Miss Marin, your father sends word. He knows you’d like to speak with him, and he is available for conference now.”

Stacie scowled and slammed the door behind her, tossing off her coat and leaving it in a heap on the floor. I jumped. My nerves were running high again thinking about speaking with her father, King of the Mermaids.

She waved her hand, gesturing for me to follow her as she stalked down the main corridor.

“What did she call you?” I murmured as we trudged along.

“Marin.”

“Does it mean princess or something?” I asked her.

The tension on her shoulders eased a little. She cracked half a smile, “It’s my name.”

“I thought your name was Stacie?”

“For school, sure. But it’s only Stacie for now, for the human world. I’ll get bored and leave eventually, then come back in a few years with a new name.”

While it was surprising that she used an alias, a different revelation bothered me more. “Why would anyone want to go to high school more than once?” I asked.

She gave me a Cheshire Cat’s grin, “Why would I give that up? It’s like being queen without any of the drawbacks. I rule when I want to, party when I want to, act benevolently when I want to. I can be as just or unjust as I feel.”

“But aren’t you going to be queen anyway?” I asked her.

Her face looked grim, “Yeah…
someday
. But every day I’m not queen is a good day to me. Besides, I’d never do half the stuff down there that I do in high school. High school
doesn’t matter
.”

I wondered if that was the tension I’d felt when Stacie— no, Marin!— was told her father wanted to speak. She was reluctant to succeed him, instead opting to be a big fish in a small pond. A surprisingly appropriate metaphor.

We reached the dead end of the hallway. Stacie pressed her hands against the cream colored wallpaper. The paper split, forming a door that swung open, revealing a room. It was round, surrounded entirely by windows, but the moon and stars did little to illuminate the space. Most of the light came from a small white basin atop a pedestal in the center.

Marin tipped the little bottle with her father’s eye scale into the bowl.

Curious, I peered inside the saucer and was shocked to see a face staring back at me, as dimensional and present in the room as Marin and me, but separated from us by a thin layer of clear water.

It was the face of a young man, barely drinking age, with a handsome, chiseled jaw and sun-kissed blond hair. His eyes were an unflattering murky green, which felt out of place with his otherwise perfect features. He looked like the kind of guy who could be an actor, or maybe walking the runways in Milan in designer suits. His skin was flawless, lightly tanned, and seemed to glow from within with a slight pearly sheen. The water made his hair stick up, floating around his head, defying gravity.

“Daddy,” Marin said softly.

It didn’t
look
like someone who was old enough to be her father. But with everything else that’d happened today, it barely fazed me. I kept my gaze on the man, weary.

His face looked impassive at Marin’s greeting, aside from the slightest rippling raise of his eyebrows.

Marin sighed, “
Your Majesty
.”

“Marin, my dear, you should learn manners— before you take over the throne,” he said. His voice sounded like a bully playing with a geek, all power with currents of threat underneath. The last half of the response even sounded like a bit of a challenge. It was surprising: I wasn’t expecting this type of greeting between a parent and his child.

“Let’s just get on with it,” snarled back Marin. “This is Sarah, the siren I told you about earlier.”

Her father’s attention turned to me. He grinned broadly. It was flattering, and I had the sense that he was fully focused on me. A blush crawled up my cheeks. I’d never been comfortable being the center of attention, and that hadn’t changed since becoming a siren.

“Sarah,” he tilted his head to one side, eyes studying me as I leaned over the edge of the dish. “The Muses have smiled on you?”

I stared at him, confused.

He chuckled, a burst of bubbles emerging from his mouth. He shook his head, “Apologies. You are a bit of an oddity, my dear.”

“Yes, sir,” I mumbled meekly. I wondered if he would be so kind when he knew what I’d done.

Marin sighed, “Sarah’s new to everything, Daddy—
Your Majesty
. She needs time to adjust to everything, and she’s made a couple mistakes.”

“Anything severe?” he said coolly to her. His brow arched ever-so-slightly.

She shook her head, “the biggest mistake is regarding her foster family. I told you everything I knew before. In the interim she has unfortunately sang for them.”

“Ah. What happened?” he sounded interested.

I squeezed my eyes shut, taking a deep breath. I didn’t want to admit what I’d done, as if ignoring it would make it less real. I bit my lip, “They… their sanity is gone. They only live for the song. I—” I hesitated, but he didn’t look judgmental to me, only a little concerned. “I asked them to sleep, and they are. They won’t wake up unless I tell them to.”

“Interesting power over humans,” said the merman. He sounded impressed with it, and my brows knit together.
I
certainly wasn’t impressed by it— only horrified.

Marin nodded tightly next to me, “It is quite compelling to them. I verified it with my own eyes.”

“So you’re
actually
taking an interest in something important,” he said, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on his daughter.

“Despite this,” she said, ignoring his tone, “we have the unfortunate problem of dealing with the humans. My suggestion is to put them into a hospital, explain it to the human staff as an unusual coma, and go from there.”

“It’s an option,” he agreed, “Though it uses up resources that could be better spent—” He caught sight of my face and sighed, “Very well. I can arrange for them to be admitted.” He brought hard eyes towards his daughter, “Marin. You handled that
surprisingly
admirably. Keep doing things like that, and I might even take you seriously some day.” He focused his gaze on me, “Now, while you’re both here, you should know I’ve called the council together. Tomorrow morning we’ll convene to discuss… the siren.” He said siren the same way he would say the word ‘problem’, and to be honest I couldn’t blame him. I was certain I’d caused nothing but trouble since transforming.

“Thank you, sir,” I mumbled out, feeling the need to respond.

The merman’s features relaxed as he spoke with me. They’d been drawn so tightly while speaking with Marin, and the effect was pronounced.

He shrugged, looking boyish, “You have nothing to thank me for, young lady. It’s part of the deal.” He even grinned at me. I felt strange at the amount of warmth he was displaying following his hostility to his own daughter. “I’d rather not tie up too much time unnecessarily,” he added, a little apologetically. “But if you need anything feel free to let Marin here know. She’s not
totally
useless.”

“I… thank you, sir,” I said, not really sure how else to respond. Pointing out his obvious hatred for his heir seemed pointless, asking about it too personal.

“Marin knows what to do tomorrow. The council convenes at dawn, so be at the meeting space then. Good luck, young lady.” The funny thing was that it felt sincere, like he really wanted to help me out and was genuinely sorry I was having any troubles at all. The contrast was uncomfortable when he shifted his gaze back to Marin, “You know what to do.” These words were lilting, a challenge.

Marin just stood there, rigid, as the light faded from the bowl, and the image disappeared. He didn’t even bother saying goodbye.

“Well,” she said, “that’s that.” She turned from the pillar, navigating only by the moonlight through the window panes and opened the secret door. I followed behind, feeling nervous but knowing I had to ask.

“What was
that
?”

She laughed half-heartedly, a hollow sound in her throat, “That’s my father. That’s me. That’s how we are. Better off when we don’t see each other.”

“He’s… really…”

“A jerk? Because I know that’s what you think,” she finished for me. “But he’s not a jerk. He has every right to say that. He’s a really good ruler, too. The way he was with you? Charismatic, like everything you said was important, like he genuinely cared? That’s how he is with every single one of his subjects.”

“Except you. You’re part of his kingdom, too,” I pointed out.

“I’m different,” she snapped back.

I couldn’t believe she was defending someone who seemed intent on leveling her to the ground just a moment before. Not only that, but before this encounter, Marin seemed like the last person on earth who’d have defended her father. She hated him, and I now felt like she had legitimate reason. The way he spoke to her wasn’t just a one time thing, wasn’t a response to some dramatic thing she’d done. I knew, in my gut, that it was the rehearsed dialog of two people who’d been doing this for, almost, if not all of, Marin’s life— however long that might be.

“Marin,” I said, trying the name out on my tongue for the first time, “you don’t have to put up with that—”

“He has
every right
,” she interrupted in a tone that told me the topic was taboo. This wasn’t an argument I was going to win tonight, or maybe ever. The silence was long and stretched out before us. We descended the staircase, reaching a hall. Marin looked thoughtful. She kept her gaze forward as she began again, “You don’t have any clothes that fit you.”

My face flushed. It was strange to have my clothing appraised by this rich princess— literally, it would seem— who was so fashionable all the time. I glanced sidelong at her. I wondered if she was judging the remaining dregs of my wardrobe in distaste or if she was just trying to decide what to do about it. The latter was closer to the truth.

“Well, none of
my
clothes will fit you. Oh well. That’s what stylists are for.”

She pulled out her cell phone, a fancy thing with a camera and a sparkling aqua blue case. “Close your eyes,” she instructed, “I’m taking your picture.”

I did as she told me, but asked, “Why does it matter if my eyes are closed?”

“We don’t want them to change in the photos. Jen probably wouldn’t even notice, honestly, that’s part of how it works, but we shouldn’t be asking for trouble.”

Click. Click. Click. She made me turn to each side, then finally the back. “She should be able to do something with this.”

“But what about sizes?” I asked her.

“She’s really good at what she does,” Marin answered. “She’ll be able to size you up with the pictures, I promise.”

I had my doubts. The sweatshirt I was wearing wasn’t exactly flattering to me, though it was somewhat tight. I didn’t even know how tall I was or how long my inseam was or even what my cup size was anymore. Marin seemed unconcerned, and was furiously tapping at her phone. It gave a little chirp that indicated the message had been sent successfully.

“She’ll call me when she’s done, and we’ll arrange shipping. We should be able to get you into something nice for your meeting with the council.”

“It’d have to be on the space shuttle for it to get here on time,” I muttered.

Marin just rolled her eyes. Within ten minutes, the phone let out a string of notes, and I almost cringed at the harshness of the melody.

“Uh huh. We need it here before dawn, our time. No problems, right? Ship it to my house in Whitecrest.” She clicked the phone shut. “And that’s how it’s done. You’ll have a new wardrobe by the time we get up tomorrow.”

“At five a.m.,” I said dubiously.

“Chances are it’ll be here a lot sooner than that. The deadline is the only important thing.”

She flicked her gaze at the lit display on her phone and frowned, “Well then, looks like my father has taken care of things. Your foster parents have been found and are being moved to the hospital in Astoria for now.”

I felt like I swallowed a stone, and it was sinking in my stomach, cold and hard. It was the nearest they’d be able to go, but it was likely if they were left in that state for too long, they’d be transferred somewhere else— Portland, Seattle.