The Sea King's Daughter by Miranda Simon

was certain of that -- maybe just a merchant prince, but a prince nonetheless.
    I didn't think beyond finding Lysander, or imagine what would happen next. I would climb up to the grand villa and announce myself.
    I pushed myself up onto my elbows and scrambled to my feet. I tried to stand on my newborn legs. But the instant I put weight on them, knives plunged into the soles of my feet and hard, shooting pain lanced through my bones. It was like standing on a bed of spiny sea urchins. I collapsed back onto the sand and moaned in frustration. What good were legs, if I couldn't even stand upright?
    I scowled. I was as helpless on land now as when I'd had a tail.
    I curled up again and closed my eyes, conjuring up an image of Lysander's face on the back of my eyelids. This was all for him. If I could be with him, all this pain would be worthwhile. I had to remember that.
    After a time, I fell asleep. My slumber was fevered and strange, full of monsters. Once my father's sad, drawn face swam through my dreams, then blurred and faded away. My head throbbed, and when I touched my forehead it was so hot it scorched my palm. I laid my cheek on the cool sand and dozed off again.
     
    I woke to the sound of voices.
    I struggled up to squat behind a cluster of rocks. Peeking around the edges, I saw them -- Lysander and his friend, the one who'd called to him from the beach to go and get his supper. They paused just a few yards from where I hid. Both wore short tunics and long cloaks of purple wool edged with dark geometric designs.
    "If you'd only tell me what's troubling you," Lysander's friend was saying.
    "It's nothing, Phidias, nothing but a passing mood." Lysander kicked at a pebble on the ground. The stone skipped over the sand, skidded between the rocks, and struck me cleanly on one brand-new shin.
    "Oh!" I cried, and stood up. My knees quavered and threatened to buckle. Pain lanced through my legs, but I ignored it.
    Lysander and his friend stared at me, their eyes wide. "Great Zeus!" Lysander exclaimed. "Where did you come from?"
    I tried to speak, but no sound came out. My tongue felt swollen and my throat seemed to close off, from thirst or fear, I wasn't sure. I leaned against the rock and stared back.
    There was no recognition in Lysander's eyes, but at least I saw concern there. "Are you hurt?" he asked.
    I shook my head.
    "What's your name? Where are you from?"
    I still couldn't speak. Lysander took a step toward me and I shrank back, suddenly afraid. "I won't hurt you," he said. He unslung his heavy cloak. "Here, let me. . . . You must be cold."
    I allowed him to settle the cloak around my shoulders. For the first time, I realized my nakedness made Lysander uneasy. His friend Phidias, too -- he hung back, behind the rocks, averting his eyes from my bare breasts.
    No one wore clothing under the sea, and I'd forgotten that human women always covered themselves. It seemed a foolish custom, but I didn't protest as Lysander adjusted the cloak's deep purple folds to conceal my body. The fabric felt rough against skin that had never known the touch of cloth. Lysander's fingers brushed my neck as he lifted my hair out from under the cloak and let it fall free. "There," he said. "That's better."
    Up close, and fully conscious, Lysander was even more handsome than I remembered. He towered over me; my head came up only as far as his chest. He tipped my chin up so that my eyes met his. "Now, little one. Tell me where you came from."
    "I -- I was -- " My voice came out a pitiful croak, and I cleared my throat. "I came from --"
    I'd been about to tell him I came from the sea, that I the one who'd rescued him from the shipwreck. The word "mermaid" lingered on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't say it. Instead, my throat closed and I could not breathe. I tried to cry out, but I could not. My hand flew to my throat, where the muscles moved convulsively under my fingers, then stood as rigid as iron pipes.
    I remembered, too late, the sea