Lilophea-2: Consort of the Sea King. Natalia Yacobson

away into the shadows, hissing as if the image of the sun was scorching them.

      Something was not right here! The sight of the sun with its graceful girlish face captivated her herself at first sight. Such beauty! Lilophea ran her finger over it, and that face did not come alive to bite her. It was motionless and beautiful.

      The doors opened easily. No key was needed. The amulet Lilophea wore around her neck was reflected in the empty eyes of the sun. For a moment it seemed like it was the passageway to the hall, where a measured glow poured over it.

      No sun was imprisoned within. But it was as bright as daylight. In the center of the hall there was indeed an arch, like a bridge, with a parapet decorated with stone dolphins. The ends of the arch rested on the floor so that they could be climbed up like a bridge. Lilophea decided to try her luck. She easily climbed up and suddenly found that the bridge-arc was much larger and wider than she first thought, and its size was not limited to this hall at all. As she climbed higher, the bridge bifurcated. Then it parted. Lilophea was dizzy from the height to which she had suddenly climbed. The hall, it turned out, had no ceiling. Instead, water masses bubbled overhead, and after a while she managed to breathe in clean air. So it really was possible to go to the surface over the bridge! The harp spirit did not lie. It felt as if she were ascending to the very heavens. The ends of the bridge diverged in an unexpected tangle of new paths, making it possible to go farther and farther. The paths kept multiplying. Lilophea picked a path at random and found herself on a wide, azure bridge, with puffy clouds hanging low over the parapet.

      And where was she? She couldn’t see the coast from the bridge. It was high and cool. The air is somehow damp, even foggy. The sea is raging under the bridge, and the clouds are peacefully napping above. She reached out her hand and touched one of them.

      If she had known from the start that the bridge from the underwater palace led straight upward, she would not have tried to escape the first time she swam away from Seal to the surface. It turned out to be a lot simpler than that. You stepped onto the bridge, and there you are at the top. And the bridge also diverges in different directions in a tangle of branching and branched bridges and bridges. Each of their ends must rest on the shore of some state.

      Here should be the way to Etar, to Sultanite, and home to Aquilania. But how do we know which one leads where? All the bridges are different shades, like a rainbow. Only a rainbow doesn’t have that variety of tones. All the bridges have different borders: seashells, corals, gold, silver, big pearls. Lilophea turned sharply, seeing a bridge with a railing made of dead men’s bones. It felt like it led to some creepy place. It was the realm of death itself, maybe. The sight of it sent a chill down my spine.

      A network of bridges stretches in a labyrinth over the sea. There seems to be no way for humans to come here, except for those unfortunate ones who are lured here by the spirits of the sea. And why do the paths across the bridges give up to the Morgens, who can sail to any shore on their own? There lies some mystery here. But Lilophea was not about to become a pathfinder now. All she cared about was choosing the right direction to go. So she rejoiced when she spotted some boy at the crossing of the bridges. Probably he is the local sentinel. Winged fish, hovering over the parapets, whispered something to her about crossing guards. They were probably the place to turn for help if she got lost on the bridges.

      Lilophea called out to the boy, but he did not turn around. She had to get as close to him as she could. He stood still at the exact spot where dozens of bridges, both wide and narrow, diverged in different directions at once. Some of the bridges went upward. Some went downward to the water.

      “Which bridge leads to Aqilania?” She asked, and then hesitated. For to go back home would mean to leave Seal and all the wonders of the maritime kingdom. Without the wonders of the underwater world she could still survive, but to forget the underwater king… it was beyond her. His voice, his words, his beautiful face, his golden eyebrows and eyelashes… and also his blue skin and tentacles! But there was no need to think about the latter. What matters is not the monstrous thing about the king of the sea, but the feeling that he is the closest being to her in the entire universe. Only with him can it be good. And then there’s the feeling of being alone when he’s not around. Why on earth would he leave her alone for so long, giving her the opportunity to obey the evil spirit of the harp and throw herself into adventures? If Seal had not been away, she would not now be traveling through the maze of bridges over the sea.

      The boy answered nothing. Lilophea had to touch him by the shoulder. Then he turned around, showing a creepy fish face with scales on it.

      Lilophea couldn’t think of anything else to ask him, and standing next to him became unpleasant. She picked her own bridge at random and ran forward. The puffy skirts rustled around her legs like sea foam.

      It took a long time to run. Without knowing the direction, it was difficult to navigate. Sometimes the bridges crossed each other, sometimes they had no railings, and it was scary to walk across them. The risk of falling back into the water and possibly being eaten by sharks was too great. Though shouldn’t they also respect the queen of the seas? Or would hungry sharks not care about the queen or the common food?

      “Sharks are not the scariest thing that lives in the sea, sailors often said. Now Lilophea knew they meant morgens.

      One of the bridges, orange like a flame, led her to the banks of Tioria, where the waterfalls of fire flowed. The bridge ended at one of those waterfalls, flashing a sheaf of red sparks from above. It was frightening to even go near them. One spark flew very far away and burned Lilophea’s palm.

      “Careful, Princess of the Sea,” an orange-haired woman shouted at her from the waterfall, her skin orange and flame-colored clothing merging with the water. Her skin, too, was as orange as fire. And she seemed to have wings of fire fluttering behind her. She was probably one of the firewomen who lived in the waterfalls.

      She mispronounced Lilophea’s new title, but there was no way to correct her. Sparks from the waterfall flew in all directions. Lilophea turned and ran away.

      From the orange bridge she turned onto the malachite bridge. This one led her to deserted, cold shores where nothing grew.

      There was a herd of white horses galloped by the water’s edge. No, they were not horses, but horses of sea foam. Only after a closer look one could see that their hooves merged with the foam of the waves. Such horses can carry riders only on water. They cannot jump onto dry land. But one unusual horse was galloping on the sand. It had no saddle or bridle and its skin was as white as milk. Not a speck, not a grain of dirt. Only magical horses could be this pure color. Lilophea was not mistaken. In a moment the horse turned into a boy with sharp ears and wild eyes. It was exactly the sort of creature she and Ornella had listened to stories about by the fireplace as children. It is a spirit who seduces girls by pretending to be a submissive horse and takes them into the sea to drown them. One story she heard as a child was of a fisherman’s daughter who was left alone for the night and a spirit came to visit her. At first she took him for an ordinary young man, but when she saw that he had sharp ears and fish eyes, it was too late to save her.

      The young man on the shore looked enticingly at Lilophea standing high on the bridge, and his unusual eyes sparkled slyly, as if informing:

      “I would love to drag a beauty like you down to the bottom, but I see someone else has already beaten me to it.”

      Lilophea groaned as she looked down at her hands on the parapet. Webs sprouted between her fingers. They looked like a lace of sea foam. She might as well become a mermaid herself, or worse, a creature like Urun and his morgen armies.

      Lilophea moved her hands. The webbing was tight, but not uncomfortable. Too bad she didn’t have a mirror with her right now to look at her reflection. Had her face changed, resembling the creepy faces of the Morgens?

      A bright yellow pair of winged fish, as if hearing her wish, held the mirror up to her. The reflection was pleasant. Nothing had changed in her face. True, the mirror itself resembled