Those girls must still be aboard the three-sail, probably down below, protected from the hail and rain.
Protected, unlike us.
Annemette and I shuffle down the guest hall in enough of a state that I really don’t want to know what I look like. I thank Urda that the queen is not here to pass judgment. But what I see of Annemette does not give me hope. Her waves are tangled; deep-red welts cover her arms, every shard of hail having left its mark; and the pre-storm sun made its presence known as well, flushing her forehead and nose as pink as the natural blush at her cheeks.
I can only hope a bath and the three hours we have to dress will improve such matters for both of us. It’s difficult to have the most romantic evening of your life while resembling ghosts of the bubonic plague.
We reach our room, and Annemette immediately falls into bed, sodden clothes and all. She bounces as much as the down mattress will allow before settling in a heap of hair and rags.
“Are you all right?” I ask, sitting on my bed across from her.
She answers with a smile. “I am more than all right—Nik has asked me to open the ball with him.”
I gasp. Each year the king and queen take the ball’s opening dance. And now that Nik is of age, it makes sense that he would dance alongside them—something even I didn’t know. Something maybe Nik didn’t know until his mother’s guests arrived.
“That’s amazing.” If that invitation doesn’t showblooming love, I don’t know what does. And after a night of staring into her eyes, there’s no way Nik won’t fulfill the magical contract.
“It is,” she agrees. “Though I am thoroughly exhausted. We have time for a nap, don’t we?”
I catch my reflection in the length of the window—red spots on a pink sea and a bird’s nest of curls. Iker hasn’t asked me to open the dance, though surely he will dance too. Maybe he doesn’t think he needs to ask me. Maybe he thinks it’s implied.
“I don’t know—it might take all three hours to mask this and—”
“Ljómi,”Annemette says, and a frigid breeze flows over my head and down my arms. It’s cold enough that my eyes snap shut for a moment until it blows over.
When I open them, and see myself in the mirror, I’m completely different. My hair is clean and bouncy; my skin is glowing, all redness gone. I am radiant. My clothes are still a mess, but the rest of me is better than before. And again, I’m reminded that Annemette is more at home with her magic than I ever will be. Sheismagic.
“Thank you.... How long will it last?”
“Not forever, but long enough for Iker to have trouble remembering.” She yawns. “I’ll spell you a new gown later. Now, I need to sleep.”
“Mette, you can’t—we have less than eight hours until midnight and I need to teach you to dance.”
Annemette shuts her eyes. “I’ll figure it out. Mermaids dance more than we swim.”
No. No. No. What is wrong with her?“Dancing with your legs is a lot different, Mette. I mean, I know you’re graceful, but do you know the Havnestad waltz? Every girl in that room will know it backward and forward. If you don’t do it right, everyone will know your story is false. The king, the queen... Nik. It could all fall apart before your time is up.”
Annemette sits up and smiles. “All right. You win. Sleep can wait until after I have his heart.” She lifts her arms for me to grab her hands, and I tug her into the center of our gilded room. Somehow, she’s spelled herself without me seeing, her skin glowing, her hair cascading perfectly over the shoulders of her dress, now dry. Mine remains wet, but I won’t ask her to change it. Not yet. I can’t distract her from this. We’re almost to the finish line. And the ball is more important than any moment we’ve had yet.
I place her hand on my shoulder and take the other out to the side. My hand goes to her hip. I’m intensely glad Queen Charlotte never succeeded in making les lanciers the dance of choice at the ball—I’d never be able to teach a quadrangle to a mermaid by myself.
And we begin. “One, two, three... one, two, three.”
She adjusts her hand on my shoulder, clearly bothered by its damp state.“Purr klœdi.”
My dress dries instantly as we spin around the room.Annemette steps on my toes and corrects but doesn’t apologize.
“Just you wait for the dress I’ll make you for tonight. If I’d known the last one was going to get covered in Malvina’s pie, I wouldn’t have spelled one so fine, but I’ll have to go all out on this one. Really show the town up—and the queen’s girls, too. Iker won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”
I smile at her as we spin in circles. “Thank you,” I say. And I’m grateful. This afternoon with Iker was difficult, and I’d love nothing more than to get back to where we were this morning.
“You’ll look just like a princess.”
“But you’ve already done that once,” I laugh.
“Oh, now we’re getting picky, are we? Fine, I’ll make you look like a queen!”
I laugh so hard, it’s practically a royal snort. Then I lead us into another turn, holding her hand tight.
