Page 28 of In Rising Tides

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 willdismissus.”

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.