Dance of the Mermaids

Chapter 2 – The Kingdom by the Shore

Alexander

The ball was in full swing. Of course, it was my brother’s idea to throw another one within the same season. My father, King Ivan Rudolph, would agree to anything my brother Evan suggested. He was, after all, the heir, and I was only the spare.

In a way, I was glad. At least, being sullen in a corner was acceptable in my case. Noble young ladies fluttered their lashes at me, silently pleading to be invited to a dance, but I had to give them a polite nod and move along. After all, they should be looking for the older prince, the man who would be king one day. More often than not, I sat with these partnerless ladies on the chairs placed against the ballroom walls.

It might sound cruel, but it must be done. Dancing with the same lady for half an hour, across two dances, meant you liked her very much. She would be waiting for an engagement at the most or a call at the least. Dancing with several ladies in one night? Well, that meant more tiresome introductions.

The room was swirling before my eyes, and I had not even sipped any of the wine. Evan would more likely be able to drink enough for three or more of what I could handle. Where was he, anyway?

I squeezed myself into the crowd of nobility socializing and chattering, trying to avoid getting swept into the dancing in the center of the room. I did not know how they could hear each other in the din, but they enthusiastically raised their voices. The next music was lively but not as fast as the one before it, signaling the Quadrille. It was gentle enough in some parts, but the constant turning made me dizzy as the dresses twirled around and around.

“Have you seen Evan?” I asked some young men my age chatting about their property, no doubt. They were my brother’s friends, supposedly. Were they not looking for their host at all?

They shook their heads at me. Their eyes had that dazed look that showed that I might not have registered to them, anyway. If I were Evan, they would have stopped whatever they were doing, halted all conversations.

As I walked closer to the palace entrance, I heard some disturbance. I saw Evan’s head above the rest of the crowd. Ah, there he was, making noise wherever he went. I could finally retire and let the host do his job, for once. Passing more people, I reached him.

“Where were you?” I asked, my eyes on his red face. I was not surprised at the state he was in. “You have been gone for a couple of hours, Evan.”

“Why are you in a rush? The party is just getting started,” he asked, an incredulous smile on his face. “Look who I found walking on the beach.”

“Who?”

I looked down to his right and saw a lovely woman. Surprised by my own reaction to her, I stepped back a little. Somebody yelled, “Ouch!”

“Sorry,” I grunted an apology.

“Hello,” she said, not offering her name.

Her voice was melodic, matching the large green eyes, the pink bow lips, and the midnight black hair that fell right up to her waist. She did not seem to follow the usual fashion had young women braiding their hair and putting up the knots in buns. Her hair would be considered scandalous, but she did not seem to care.

“I am Alexander,” I gave her a quick nod. “Evan’s brother.”

“Now that you’ve met my brother, we can dance.”

“Dance?” she asked gleefully, as if she had never been asked to dance in a ball before.

I was about to ask for her name, but Evan had already pulled her to the middle of the ballroom. As I followed her with my gaze, admiring her lithe figure wrapped in a purple tulle and silk dress, I noticed that she was not wearing any shoes. Her dress was not in fashion, either, more like the sort you wore at the opera, not at balls where the skirts bloomed. Okay, I did not really know what I was talking about, but there it was. She was a fish out of water.

She was an excellent dancer. I knew that because I did not otherwise stay to watch people dance. It should have been my turn to retreat to my room, pour myself some rum from the West Indies, and nod off to sleep with a book on my chest.

The mysterious young woman probably had the right idea. The ballroom floors were always waxed. So, dancers always made sure they had rubber soles to help them keep their balance. She, on the other hand, twirled on her toes with ease. Still, I remembered how her face lit up as if it was her first time at any ball.

I would have known her. The nobility of the Kingdom of Oceanid was tightknit. Most of us had known each other since we were children. A stranger coming into our balls meant a foreigner or someone from the village – a peasant.

A young duchess had already started whispering to her countess friend. Their minds had gone in the same direction, no doubt. Their snobbish minds would not be able to take having a peasant dancing in the same ball. A foreigner would possibly be met with the same resistance. I did not have the same sentiments, but I was curious.

Who is she?

I reminded myself that this girl was having a great time with my brother. It meant her values and choices in life were questionable. I found myself stuck in the ballroom. I shook my head in amusement. What in the hell was I still doing here? When a young lady suddenly found herself in my way, I even invited her to dance.

Then, it was time for the cotillion dances, which meant a chance for informal hobnobbing with the opposite s*x. It also meant exchanging partners and turning around like little fools.

“I am tired, Alexander,” she said.

She did look exhausted. The girl I was dancing with, Duchess Mara, frowned. She might have been displeased because of two things: that the strange woman was talking to me as if we knew each other well and that she did not bother to use my title. I tried to hide the smile forming on my lips, but I bet that the duchess had seen it.

“Tell my brother you need to rest.”

Then, we did another turn, placing the strange woman further away from me. Soon, though, I saw that she had retired to one of the chairs. Before I could decide to excuse myself from Mara, my brother was there by the girl’s side, offering a glass of wine. I groaned.

“What is it, Your Highness?” the duchess asked.

As the music turned into a waltz, I wanted to groan even louder. So, there I was, on my second dance with the same young woman, and it would be a waltz. I was doomed.

“I’m fine, Duchess,” I lied.

“You can call me Mara, Your Highness,” she offered.

I could only guess she wanted me to tell her to call me Alexander. I did not want to make such a huge step, but I was the polite brother, believe it or not.

“Okay, Mara. You can call me Alexander,” I said. However, it would take a lot to make her call me Alex.

It was getting late, almost past 11. My dream of spending the night in my room, drinking rum on my own while reading a book, was slipping me by. I was nineteen, going on ninety, my father had said. Of course, he did not complain whenever I had to fix his accounting for him or surveyed his property on my horse. Also, anytime he needed something from the city, I would be his go-to person. Evan did not like the city. He felt like he blended too much with everybody else there, even if he was driven by our carriage with the flag and emblem of Oceanid. Our pictures were often in the papers, though their likenesses were often horribly blurry.

The world was changing. The modern minds of the city folks were moving towards freedom and independence. There was respect for the nobility but not much adulation – not like here in Oceanid and its surrounding villages.

I studied Mara’s face. She was pretty, for sure. She had blond hair pulled tight to the back while blonde ringlets framed her face. Her blue eyes perfected the look, I supposed. We were a match, one should say in status, and my black hair contrasted with hers. If I did not want any trouble, I could court a girl like Mara. My father would have slapped my back in glee.

“Mara, aren’t you tired?” I asked.

“Are you?”

“A little.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, feistier than I thought she would have been. She was probably wondering if men would really readily admit being exhausted before a woman was - like I just did.

“Alright, Alexander. I hope to see you later,” I could swear she gave me a wink. Then, she floated by in her expensive off-shoulder gown, her blonde ringlets swaying.

Freed, I moved towards where Evan and the girl were.

“I need to go home, Evan,” the girl insisted.

“No, dear. Stay here with me. There’s still a lot of fun in store for you,” he slurred.

“No. You don’t understand. I’m sleepy,” she said.

“You can sleep in one of our rooms.”

It was then that she noticed that I was standing right in front of them. Her eyes pleaded with me.

“Evan, let the girl go. She looks exhausted,” I said, thinking that she looked more like she was drunk. My brother had apparently been giving her several glasses of wine.

“No!” he roared like a child having a tantrum.

It was strange that he was our father’s favorite when I was the one who shared our father’s coloring: black hair and blue eyes. Evan was fair, with his blonde hair and ruddy coloring.

“Let her go home. Rest in your room, and I will take her home myself.”

He rose from his seat and pushed at me. I stumbled backwards but controlled my temper.

“What’s your name?” I looked at the girl even as Evan approached me again.

“Fiorentina,” she answered weakly.

“Fiorentina, come. We will leave.”

My brother took another lunge at me. His fist hit the side of my jaw. It hurt, but at least he was not at full strength. He was drunk. I did not want to fight him back, but then his next punch connected to the other side of my face. I shook my head in disbelief. What was I doing? What could I do? Then, I punched him right in the face, straight in the nose. Then, another hit an eye. There were shrieks. There was a startled shout from two of my friends, who seemed to have just appeared from nowhere. Traitors. I received two punches, and they just held their breath. My brother went down hard on the floor. Oh. I guessed the shrieks made sense.

“Let’s go,” I urged the swaying Fiorentina.

She half-stumbled with me as we left the clamoring guests.

“Where do you live?”

“In the ocean,” she answered softly, barely seeing through her heavy-lidded eyes.

I scooped her up in my arms and started making a run for the shore. I did not know what her game was, but I just knew we needed to get there as soon as possible.

“I hope you’re not joking with me, Fiorentina, because here we are,” I said, shaking my head as I planted her bare feet on the sand.

“I’m not joking, Alexander,” she said, planting a kiss on my cheek.

I was startled but pleased. Then, everything made a complete turnaround when she dashed to the edge of the water. As soon as she connected with it, she became – she became a monster! Her legs made way for slimy scales and a wriggly tail.

Fiorentina was a mermaid. A drunk one.

I could not believe I was attracted to a murdering mermaid. For a long time, I had wanted to catch one and ask her why they killed my mother. Now, I just let one go after punching my brother out cold.

My fists clenched on my sides. I needed a plan.