If she had been human born and raised, she would have attempted to hurl it into the witch’s heart. She had a perfect view and the advantage of height.
But she had been raised in a watery world where friction was a constant enemy. Except for the strongest, no one ever threw things across or up; stones slowed down and sank almost immediately.
Ariel crouched down, preparing to sneak and then run, driving the dagger into the witch’s flesh with her own hands.
She lifted one delicate foot…
“What’s that?” Ursula suddenly demanded.
The mermaid froze.
“Did you hear…？ Was that a…”
Ariel put her back flat to the cabinet that was right behind her, sucking in her stomach and trying to shrink.
There was splashing, frantic. It sounded like far too many appendages or people were in the water for it all to be one person.
“No one is supposed to interrupt my baths!” Ursula shouted.
Ariel could tell by the change in pitch that the sea witch was standing up now, possibly on six of her legs.
The mermaid tried to slide along the cabinet toward the dressing room door, but the revolting carved-ivory handles and drawer pulls kept tangling in her ugly dress. One particular thread pulled tightly across her legs until she couldn’t move.
Ariel gritted her teeth and forced her hip slowly out—and the string popped with a heart-wrenching twang.
She stopped breathing.
“Vareet! Vareet!” Ursula called out. “What is that? Go investigate!”
What if she just got up and ran? Would Ursula be able to see who it was? Would they send the guards after her? Would she be able to make it out in time?
Ariel worked muscles that were still new to her, stretching and bending her foot, trying to silently move her thighs so she could crab-walk to the door.
“Maaaaaaax…” came a lilting voice from the distance.
The same infuriating maid from before.
“Ugh,” Ursula swore, strangely echoing her own feelings. “If that stupid dog comes in here I’m having it muzzled. And Max, too.”
There were more splashing and sloshing noises; the sea witch was settling back down into the water. Ariel could once again hear her own voice, muttering and grumbling to herself. A pail of water was poured, a tap turned, the tub refilled.
Relief and disappointment and continued fear competed like braids in a lock of hair hanging from Ariel’s soul. She fell back against one of the cabinets. What am I doing? She was nothing like the warrior merfolk some of her ancestors and relatives were. She never cared enough to train for the Mer-games and win the golden crown of sea heather. Cousin Lara, with her mighty spear, was better made for this sort of thing.
Ariel was here to find her father. And so far, she had failed. She had been utterly distracted.
She should go back and thoroughly search Vanessa’s room while she had a chance. If ancient plays, poems, and songs taught nothing else, it was always one of these two repeating themes: one, don’t ever fool around with a god’s wife or husband, and two, revenge always leads to sorrow. And while she had never been the most diligent student as a princess, she loved a good story.
She dipped her hand and the dagger turned into a comb once more. She set it carefully back in her hair.
How much more time did she have to search the bedroom? Had that interruption lengthened or shortened Vanessa’s bath ritual?
Ariel risked another peep to see if she could tell.
Ursula appeared to be lounging carelessly in her bath again, full-on Vanessa, no tentacles in sight.
The mermaid could now see that standing close to the tub was a little maid waiting in attendance, maybe eight years old. Though her body faced the bath and Vanessa, she kept her eyes directed out at the sea, through the windows. She hugged a giant fluffy towel tight, ready for the moment Ursula decided it was time to get out.
She was biting her lip.
It was obvious she knew something about Ursula’s true nature—how could she not, as bath attendant? She must have seen things even more terrible than tentacles…
Ariel said a silent prayer for the poor girl and prepared to tiptoe back.
But just as she reached the door, something glittery caught her eye from the frumpy pile of Vanessa’s hastily cast-off clothes.
She gulped, for once glad she didn’t have a voice to vocalize whatever it was that came up from her heart.
The nautilus.
Ursula’s totem of power, the necklace she wore everywhere. The token that held Ariel’s voice.
Barely able to believe it was true, Ariel ducked down and crawled over to the chair.