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PROLOGUE
THEWAVEWASMONSTROUS. In the gleam of his head torch, Prince Eirik saw a towering wall of water rise up in front of the yacht. The sea was wild, whipped up by a storm that had arrived earlier than forecast. But this was a rogue wave, spewing white foam as it curled over and began its descent.
Eirik’s yacht,The Mako, had lost its mast when the storm had first struck an hour or so ago. The VHF antenna had snapped, leaving him without radio signal and unable to put out a Mayday call. Thick clouds prevented the satellite phone from working. He’d had no choice but to abandon the Around the Island of Ireland yacht race, or AII as it was known. The competitors had set sail from the marina at Penash on the south coast of Cornwall. When he had turned back, he’d managed to erect a temporary mast and sail and had been making good headway towards the shore. The craggy Cornish cliffs were close—but not close enough.
Night had brought impenetrable darkness. His head throbbed from where he’d been struck by the mast when it had come crashing down. He pushed his hair out of his eyes, and, in the torchlight, he noticed blood on his fingers from the gash on his brow. He watched the huge wave tumble as if in slow motion towards the deck. The noise filled his ears and reminded him of the roar of the avalanche as it had raced down the mountain.
Had Niels felt afraid? Eirik recalled that fateful day just over a year ago. He had been a few metres ahead of his brother and had managed to ski over to a cluster of pine trees that had given some protection from the avalanche. When he’d looked back at the white wave of snow thundering down the slope, he had known in his heart that Niels would not survive. Eirik’s grief was mixed with guilt because he had persuaded his brother to go skiing. They had both loved the slopes when they were younger, but Niels had been the heir to the principality of Fjernland’s throne and discouraged by their parents from taking risks.
The world spun, and the starless sky merged with the black sea as the powerful wave caused the yacht to roll one hundred and eighty degrees. After what felt like a lifetime of being churned inside a washing machineThe Makorighted itself. Coughing and spluttering, Eirik snatched oxygen into his lungs and assessed the new damage. The temporary mast had been destroyed. Fortunately, the compartment where the flares were stored had remained watertight. Distress flares were only meant to be used where there was ‘grave and imminent danger to life’. It was sobering to acknowledge that his situation had become so serious. Moments later he watched a trail of bright red smoke soar into the sky and hoped that someone on land would see the flare and alert the coastguard.
The sea had calmed a little after the freak wave had subsided. A glimmer of moonlight appeared when the clouds parted and showed Eirik that the yacht had drifted closer to the coast. But the bow of the boat was sitting low in the water, and he realised thatThe Makowas sinking. His only chance was to attempt to swim to the shore, but huge breakers crashed against the cliffs, and it was likely that he would be smashed onto the jagged rocks.
He unclipped the safety tether that attached him to the yacht and climbed onto the gunwale. In the moonlight he could just make out the cliffs in the distance. He grimaced. This was a crazy plan, but he was out of options.
It was then that he saw the tail. He knew that dolphins were regularly spotted in the sea around Cornwall. But it hadn’t looked like a dolphin’s tail. The huge tail broke the surface again, closer to the boat this time, before it disappeared beneath the waves.
Eirik froze and stared at the face that had appeared in the water, a few metres away from the boat. He must be hallucinating. Maybe he was suffering from concussion. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again the creature was still in the sea. A female figure—with a fish’s tail?What the hell?
She raised her arm and waved to him. Eirik swore. He did not believe in mystical stories of sea sirens and mermaids, but at that moment he could not think of any other explanation.
‘Follow me.’ Her voice rose above the noise of the wind. She disappeared beneath the waves and the great tail made a splash.
Water lapped the gunwale.The Makowas sinking fast. There was nothing Eirik could do but jump into the sea and swim for his life. The water was bitterly cold, and his body reacted automatically with a gasp reflex that made him choke as his mouth filled with brine. He knew there was a danger that he could develop hypothermia. His chances of survival were slim.
The sea creature, mermaid—whatever she was—surfaced a few metres ahead and beckoned to him. Her skin looked silvery in the moonlight and her face, with its high cheekbones, was as exquisite as a pre-Raphaelite painting. Her long hair streamed behind her as she turned and swam away. Eirik struck out after her. He did not know who or evenwhatshe was, but she was his only hope.
He had lost his head torch, but the moon was bright now, allowing him to keep sight of the tail when it broke the surface. His chest heaved and his shoulders burned with the effort of swimming. His life jacket helped to keep him afloat, but he could feel the strong current dragging him towards rocks that had appeared, rising out of the sea like terrible, giant’s teeth.
Eirik remembered the legends of beautiful sirens who had led men to their doom. He had been a fool to follow his mystical guide, but he’d never been able to resist a beautiful woman, he thought with grim humour. He was done for. The current was sweeping him closer to the rocks and his will to live was ebbing away as the cold seeped down to his bones.
He felt a hand touch his arm. The mermaid, for want of a better description, was beside him. Her eyes were huge and fathomless in the black night. It occurred to Eirik that perhaps he was already dead and had slipped into some strange underworld.
‘Don’t give up,’ she urged. ‘Stay close to me.’
‘Who are you?’ he shouted after her, but she was already swimming a little way ahead of him. He forced his aching muscles into action and struck out once more.
They seemed to be in a channel of calmer water flowing between the rocks. Waves crashed against the cliffs on either side, but Eirik saw a small cove and a strip of beach in front of him. Dear God! His feet found the seabed and he half crawled, half stumbled out of the waves. His throat felt raw from the salt water he’d swallowed. He sank down onto his knees, coughing and retching, struggling to breathe.
He must have blacked out. When he regained consciousness, his cheek was resting on the wet sand. Someone rolled him over onto his back and supported his head.
‘You’ll be all right. Please be all right.’
The voice was a lilting melody that Eirik knew he would never forget. His eyelids felt too heavy for him to open them, and he was cold, so cold.
‘Don’t go. Don’t give up.’
Her voice caught. There was urgency in her song, a tenderness that curled around Eirik’s frozen heart. He felt her warm breath on his face, his lips. A hand gently stroked his jaw, and then her mouth covered his. Her lips were soft and moist, easing his lips apart. Her breath filled his mouth. The kiss of an angel, or in this case a mermaid, brought Eirik back from the brink.
He wished he could stay in her embrace for ever. He opened his eyes and stared into her fathomless dark gaze. Instantly she snatched her mouth from his and lowered his head onto the sand. By the time he’d propped himself up onto one elbow, his saviour had returned to the sea and was sitting on a partly submerged rock. It was impossible to make out the colour of her wet hair that rippled over her shoulders. Her tail—yes, it was definitely atail—sparkled silver in the moonlight.
‘Who are you?’ he rasped.
‘You are safe now. Help will come,’ she told him in her sweet voice before she dived into the waves.
‘Wait.’ Eirik stared after her, but she had gone. Had he imagined her? His logical brain argued that he must have done. But without her guidance he would not have found his way to the cove.
He fell back against the sand and drifted in and out of consciousness. Some time later, it could have been minutes or hours, he heard the womp, womp of a helicopter’s rotor blades in the sky above him. Shielding his eyes against the glare of the searchlight, he watched a medic being winched down to the beach.
