But things would be very different after the circuex. There would probably be a larger mess. There might not be much of Tirulia remaining afterward. And it would certainly mean an end to her current experiment with humans.
Plus she would lose Triton, whom she so loved to hold over Ariel. Actually, she loved just holding him in general: I have a king! Ursula the exiled has a king for a prisoner!
Bah. Speaking of Triton, if she was going to keep him around for much longer she would have to throw the dumb little redhead off the trail. Maybe she could kill two polyps with one hook: repair her relationship with the king of Ibria and get the King of the Sea someplace safe, far away from the ocean and meddling princesses. And maybe have some fun while I’m doing all this…
“She’sss here, Princess,” Flotsam whispered.
“Do send her in,” Ursula said, remembering to whisper at the last moment. She would wait a little longer for the big spell. Preparations had to be made, times and places—and sacrifices—prepared. In the meantime there was a country to lead into war and an empire to carve, for which she needed a voice.
A young woman stepped tentatively into the room. Yet it was obvious that this was a girl utterly unused to being tentative—or shy, or cowed. The strain on her face showed as she tried to wrest her feelings under control: excitement, eagerness, fear, a trace of anger that she felt any fear. All on a proud, beautiful countenance with clear sand-colored skin, bright brown eyes, and dark rosy lips. Put a few pounds on her, Ursula thought, and she’d be a very pretty mouthful indeed.
“Julia, is it?” she said in a kindly whisper.
“Yes, Princess.” The girl dropped an elegant, if last-minute, curtsy. Her dress was tacky, all flounces and far too many underskirts and weird pastel colors that didn’t go with her complexion. Her hair was so brushed and oiled and coiled it shone more like eelskin than anything human. She was so not noble it was painful.
But her voice…
Ah, her voice. Real potential there. Musical and lilting but with far more substance than the dumb little mermaid’s. Now that’s a voice I could work with!
“I have heard so much about you,” Ursula whispered, “…in that I have heard anything at all, which is, you understand, unusual for someone in my position. And yours.”
“Yes, My Princess,” the girl breathed, not even reacting to what was probably an insult, too anxious to hear what was next.
“I hear you like a boy,” Ursula purred, giving her a twinkly, knowing look.
Julia gasped.
Ursula tried very hard not to roll her eyes. Even if the girl’s father hadn’t told her, the sea witch would of course have guessed. Silly girls were the same wherever they lived—the Dry World or the World Under the Sea. It didn’t matter. There was always a boy. Or a girl.
“Or, should I say, a family of boys,” she went on. “Handsome, adventurous, good boys from a good family.”
“Yes, My Princess,” the girl said, eyes wide with shock. “But how—”
Ursula shushed her, tsking. “You think I don’t understand? Of course I do. I of all people. You think I don’t hear the rumors—however faint—about my lineage? ‘Where did that girl come from’ and ‘Who is her family’ and ‘Is she truly a princess?’”
Julia said nothing but began to look thoughtful.
Not stupid, Ursula thought. Sometimes that made things harder, sometimes it made things easier. Intelligent people who knew what they wanted and thought they understood the consequences were the most fun. They were also the most impatient: they saw her shiny, barbed hook, and often grabbed it voluntarily, swallowing it themselves. No force or trickery needed.
“Look at me,” Ursula said, twisting her body, showing off her jewels and the room. “No one dares says those things aloud. I know what it’s like, girl. I utterly sympathize.”
“I’m sorry?” Julia said, terrified of saying it too loudly, leaning forward. “I didn’t quite hear you…Your throat…”
Ursula closed her eyes, beating back fury. Pretended she was working up her strength.
“I can help you.”
“I-I am grateful,” Julia stammered. “Your attention and hospitality are already more than I could ever imagine. But why…？ Why me?”
“But my dear, sweet child, that’s what I do! It’s what I live for. To help unfortunate mer—uh, townsfolk like yourself: poor unfortunate souls with no one else to turn to.”