The Mermaid and the Heiress (A Retelling of The Little Mermaid)

5

Was Grandmother lurking, or did I imagine her thin, severe silhouette as I passed the grotto? I didn't try to find out, maintaining my steady pace.

It happened just as the distant shimmer above came into view.

At once, and without warning.

Sharp teeth tore my tail. Jagged nails gouged my skin. Vicious hands seized my hair.

Meeting the witchsea had pushed the group I'd seen earlier straight out of my mind, along with everything else. Now all I could think—as we spiraled through the startlingly-crimson cloud of my blood—was, Don't drop that clam. With its reassuring edges biting into my palm, I clawed my way to the morning air. The potion bubbled like water into the shell, and I swallowed every last drop before they could drag me down.

The agony of the change erased my previous pains. My eyes couldn't stay open and, blinded, I wondered if my tail was splitting in two. Not caring if I was screaming, moving, or still battling attackers, I surrendered.

***

The waves could have been rough, or gentle; I was only aware of the shell leaving my grasp. My body slid along until it reached hot sand.

I stared up at a blueness that was an immediate balm. My hair blanketed my body, its weight an annoyance I was grateful for. How long did I lay there bleeding, naked, numb, unbothered by the receding hot knife of the change?

I'd never know.

A concerned—and familiar—face blocked out the sky.

It was Brook.

I smiled and let go.

***

A breeze tickled my skin.

My dry skin.

Eyes snapping open, I sat up. I was on a...bed, hair heavy against my back. I lifted the thin material covering me to squint down at myself.

And there they were. Poking out from beneath the fabric that clothed my middle, pale and slender like the rest of me: my legs.

My gasp was a silent reminder that they'd come with a price. As I tentatively prodded the scaleless thighs and bony knees, my gaze fell on the white wrappings crowding my bare arms. I also felt them all over my torso, yet my legs looked untouched.

Bruised, bitten, and slashed by my own kind. Not what I would've expected after all of Grandmother's claims that we had nothing to fear from our own. Either she'd never known what she was talking about, or things had changed—their hate had been real, and clung to me still. The witchsea had been correct in saying, essentially, that memories of Father's rages were no longer enough to keep everyone in check. I should have paid more attention.

But I wouldn't allow it to matter now. I shoved to my—feet, wiggling one and then the other. I struggled onto the bed, standing and hopping in place. The single flip I attempted worked nothing like it would have underwater and ended with me bouncing facedown.

Raising my head, I squinted around. My sisters had told me so much, but I still wasn't prepared. I recognized things like chairs and windows, but most of my surroundings were foreign to me.

Abandoning the bed, I jetted to the opposite end of the room. I couldn't hear my delighted laughter as I sprang back and forth, but I could feel it. My steps were music to my ears, as was the chaos of noise when I struck what may have been a small table.