SEVEN DAYS BEFORE
Aida’s birthday had unlocked something within the darkness ofthe littlest mermaid’s mind. She couldn’t see what was there, couldn’t access it, but she’d felt the click of the key settling in. She knew something lay in the endless black, hiding. Waiting to consume her whole, like a shark in a reef.
And with this shift, she noticed something else. A fatalistic obsession.
Humans.
She knew they were dangerous. That they plagued the sea, stealing lives with abandon. Upsetting the balance of things by killing too many or too few. The natural give-and-take forever ruined by their greed, their ships, their nets, their harpoons.
If the “legend” of merpeople were ever proven, they would be mercilessly hunted by humans. Made a sideshow. Sold to the highest bidder.
Confirmation of their existence would be the death of them.
Yet, as she approached her fifteenth year, she began to daydream more and more about observing humans above water. She often left the confines of her father’s castle at night, looking for ships to float next to, listening and watching for any signs of what people were like, these trips becoming more frequent the closer her birthday came.
A few days before the special day, she came upon just her type of boat. One without anywhere to go—a monolith simply floating in the tide. Even better, this one had funny little windows in the hull. She’d seen those a few times before, leading to little below-water spaces where humans played cards or stored their treasures, depending on the type of ship.
But these windows were dark. All the people were above, playing music loud enough that the sound drifted below. The little mermaid had always loved music, and she swam along to the lingering notes, swirling and rolling through the water just below the surface.
But then, after a few hours, a light appeared behind the windows. Brighter than the mermaid had ever seen. Light made by more than an ordinary candle. Maybe several candles. Or something larger—a torch.
The little mermaid stopped drifting to the music and rushed to the nearest window. She pressed her face as close to the glass as possible.
And saw into her past.
The girl beyond the window struck her like a bolt of lightning.
Suddenly, all her mind’s darkness was illuminated, and she could see everything. The memories in her mind surged forth through the blackness, one right after another in rapid succession, physically knocking her back with their force.
But not before she’d made eye contact.
The girl had seen her.
The girl hadrecognizedher.
Evie. The girl’s name was Evie.
And her name—it wasn’t Annemette. It was simply Anna. Anna Kamp. Friherrinde Anna Kamp.
And the king’s son.
Nik.
Nik, with his sweet face and dark eyes. Stately despite being slim, elegant, and graceful. A lover of music and the arts. So kind. The first memories of him came to her in a golden cloud, as if he’d filtered sunlight itself and bathed in it.
She had to see him.
The mermaid gathered all her strength and pushed forward, back to the little window. Evie and Nik were always together. If Evie was on this ship, Nik was too. She knew it deep in her bones.
But he wasn’t there. And Evie was ascending the stairs. Leaving her alone.
If Nik was there, he was above.
Where they were laughing and dancing and singing.
Without her.
And that’s when the dark memories crawled forward. Burning so painful she had to squeeze her eyes shut.
