6. Tentacles | Lyra #2
“Please, Princess. Allow us to do our duty.”
The one with the fully silver hair bit her bottom lip, and her face crumpled. It was shocking to see so much emotion come from them, but it worked.
Lyra could feel it tugging at her heartstrings, which she thought she had locked away.
“Princess, he will dismiss us.”
It was the way she said the word “dismiss” that had Lyra’s brow creasing in confusion.
“Dismiss?” Her eyes widened when it clicked. “Ah, I see.”
The mermaid with the streaked hair grimaced before shooting fearful eyes at the door.
When it was apparent no one was barging in anytime soon, she nodded.
Lyra rubbed the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. Although she had no intention of attending the meeting, she couldn’t bear the idea of anyone being killed because of her decisions. And it would be beneficial if she attended.
She could plead with the council to free her from the binds of her engagement.
Her mind began to swim.
If she told them of Drystan’s scheming with the High King, they might very well kill him right then and there for treason and free her of him entirely.
“Fine,” Lyra sighed.
There was no way out of Atlantis without working with the council.
Relief had the servants relaxing before they made their way to the driftwood vanity tucked away in the corner of the room.
Lyra plopped down on the gigantic wentletrap shell of a stool. Her fins brushed against the ladder-like shape of the shell as she settled and faced the polished sea glass.
As they moved, Lyra studied their hands. The careful way they handled each pin and ornament they unloaded from their netted bags.
They were terrified, trembling and flinching at every noise outside her door.
That wasn’t fear of their king.
This was fear of the system.
A kingdom built on inequality and forced silence. On ritualized cruelty.
The very act of forcing mermaids onto land under the guise of sanctity to sacrifice a heart to increase fertility, only seeking to further shackle them to roles they had no hope of escaping. An endless perpetuation of the imbalance of power.
Yet despite their fear, the servants were gentle as they guided her into a new kylix studded with jewels and then began braiding plaits into her hair to pin into an elaborate updo.
It was beautiful. Their hard work coming to life before Lyra’s eyes.
They took her unruly auburn curls and twisted them into a masterpiece.
She had seen the likes of this throughout her time here. The ability of mermaids to create beauty in an otherwise bleak world.
“I don’t recognize either of you,” Lyra attempted small talk.
If it were Daisy here, the two of them would have yapped the entire time about idle gossip and the latest scandal.
Lyra abhorred the oppressive silence of her room. It was further proof of the rules they all lived under.
To be seen and definitely not heard.
The servants shared a look before the more emboldened of the two, the one with streaked hair, replied.
“We’re not from Atlantis, Your Highness.”
Lyra waved a hand. “You needn’t bother with the formalities. It’s Lyra.”
They both bore identical looks of submission, their eyes dropping to the floor.
It had Lyra stifling a sigh born of irritation. Her time on land had done well to bury that side of her life.
She had had a voice there, and an opinion.
“So which territory are you both from?” Lyra tried again. “I’m assuming you’re from the same place. You are sisters, right?”
This time, the one with silver hair answered. “We’re from Zeal.”
“Your Highness,” the other finished, shooting her sister a glare.
Lyra chuckled at the bond they shared. It reminded her so much of her bond with Maelys.
“And what are your names?” Lyra asked, realizing she had yet to learn how to address them.
“I am Verilia,” the one with silver-streaked hair replied.
“And I’m Taria,” her sister answered.
“It’s nice to meet you, Verilia and Taria.”
She felt their hands still in her hair before they lowered their bodies in a bow.
Lyra realized a moment too late that it probably wasn’t common to address servants by their given names.
“My sister, Enna, is the princess of Zeal.”
Lyra could recall her middle sister by only physical details. She hardly knew Enna at all. But she had a vibrant coral tail that Lyra remembered being envious of, and rich olive skin from basking in the clear, bright waters of Zeal.
That territory was well-known for the antiquity of its temples. Many had flocked there on pilgrimage to Ennosidas.
The temples were so old that they had been standing before the formation of their kingdom.
Verilia and Taria grinned exuberantly at the mention of Enna, however. “We serve her, Your Highness.”
Lyra was surprised by their excitement. It was the most emotion they had shown thus far.
“We had only just arrived in Atlantis before Prince Adamaris volunteered us to King Drystan. He had heard you were without maids,” Taria said, speaking with a sort of reverence when she mentioned the Prince of her homeland.
Lyra knew even less about Adamaris than she could remember of Enna, but she had often heard it whispered that he had the most unusual reputation.
He was the kindest of all the princes and certainly the most beloved.
But it would be hard to find an enemy in a territory known for peace like Zeal.
“And how is my sister?”
She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Enna. Had it been at Cora’s wedding?
“Princess Enna is well,” Verilila responded. “She recently returned from Huron after the birth of Princess Marmoris seventh child.”
Lyra choked in surprise. “Seventh?”
Gods, did they do anything besides breed?
“Prince Caspian must be very proud,” Lyra muttered, thinking of Marmoris’ husband, the commanding Prince of Huron.
It made sense that all they did was breed.
Lyra shivered, imagining the frigid waters to the northwest. There wasn’t much else to do in the rocky territory.
The reminder of the icy waters pulled something else from her memory. She had swum in those waters before.
But not as a mermaid—as a human.
Huron would have bordered the rocky outcropping on which the summer cottage Wilder had built.
She hadn’t realized that when she had been there.
Lyra swallowed, trying to think of anything but her time there, and who she had lovingly spent it with. Verilila’s words spun through her mind once more.
Seven children, good gracious. That was quite a feat and a great show of power.
She thought of Caspian again, with his long white hair and dark-navy tail. With one more child, he would surpass her father in offspring, which made sense given how much Caspian reminded her of King Auris.
Lyra’s memory of Marmoris, too, painted her out to be a sort of matriarchal figure ruling over all the sisters. Being the eldest, Marmoris had undergone the most pressure.
That much had been obvious in Lyra’s scattered memories of her. Always striving for perfection and holding herself to a higher standard.
It was impossible to remember a time when her sister had looked unbothered or relaxed.
Not that she had spent much time with her.
But Lyra did fleetingly remember Marmoris giving her instructions that should have come from a mother, like which silverware to use at formal events, how to hold yourself steady so people wouldn’t know your true feelings, or which kylixes are for public events.
Now that she really thought about it, Lyra had a lot of her etiquette practices to thank her sister for, like how to hold a conversation.
“Is Enna happy?” Lyra asked, realizing she had fallen silent for quite some time.
Taria bit her lower lip, and Lyra bristled.
She was getting close to gossiping by merfolk standards, and she didn’t know if Verilia and Taria would even answer.
“Happy, my lady?” Verilia asked with a quizzical brow.
“Yes, does she smile? Has she found fulfillment in her life?” Lyra clarified, drumming her nails against the top of her vanity.
She didn’t think she was asking a particularly tough question. But happy wasn’t an adjective that was often used here.
Taria’s sharp teeth clamped down on her lower lip. It was all the clarification Lyra had needed.
“She’s under a significant amount of stress as of late,” Taria answered at last.
Verilia elbowed her sister.
“How so?” Lyra pressed on.
Taria peered out of the window before glancing at the door. “We mustn’t speak of it, Your Highness. It isn’t safe.”
Lyra flicked her attention from the door to the window.
A drumbeat reverberated through her window. It was a strange, mournful song.
She rose from the stool to get a better look.
Four mermen, clad in long, thick robes obscuring their entire bodies, wove through the streets in a straight line.
People lowered their heads as they passed, but the mermen didn’t pay them any heed.
Their low singing wasn’t quite a song. It was almost like a melody in time with the beat of the drum.
“What is that?” Lyra slung her thumb in the direction of the odd parade.
“It’s the observance of the tide,” Taria murmured.
Lyra leaned farther out of the window to get a better look as they swam deeper into the city, carrying their mirthless song with them.
When they were too far away for her to see, she pushed off the window and returned to her stool. “Since when was that a thing?”
Taria pursed her lips as if she were deliberating the most precise way to answer.
“The death of King Auris had brought many changes to court …” Verilia trailed off, realizing she had tread into water much too deep for her liking, but Taria offered refuge.
“It’s good for her to know some things. She was absent during the change.”
Lyra pondered the undercurrent to Taria’s phrasing. Were they calling the revolt merely a “change?”
Taria picked up a particularly sharp hairpin before setting it back down on the vanity. Its new position was within Lyra’s reach.
When it became obvious they didn’t know how to proceed with an explanation, Lyra’s curiosity got the better of her.
“What sort of changes?” She hoped her questions would distract them enough so that she could reach the hairpin.