Wet Magic by E. Nesbit (read 50 shades of grey txt) 📕

with extreme firmness in an upright position on the table. None of them could stand because of their tails.

They saw before them, on a throne, a tall and splendid Queen, very beautiful and very sad, and by her side a King (they knew the royalty by their crowns), not so handsome as his wife, but still very different from the uncouth, heavy Under Folk. And he looked sad too. They were clad in robes of richest woven seaweed, sewn with jewels, and their crowns were like dreams of magnificence. Their throne was of one clear blood-bright ruby, and its canopy of green drooping seaweed was gemmed with topazes and amethysts. The Queen rose and came down the steps of the throne and whispered to her whom she had called Submersia, and she in turn whispered to the four other large ladies who held, each, a captive.

And with a dreadful unanimity the five acted; with one dexterous movement they took off the magic jackets, and with another they removed the useful tails. The Princess and the four children stood upon the table on their own ten feet.

“What funny little things,” said the King, not unkindly.

“Hush,” said the Queen, “perhaps they can understand what you say⁠—and at any rate that Mer-girl can.”

The children were furious to hear their Princess so disrespectfully spoken of. But she herself remained beautifully calm.

“Now,” said the Queen, “before we destroy your memories, will you answer questions?”

“Some questions, yes⁠—others, no,” said the Princess.

“Are these human children?”

“Yes.”

“How do they come under the sea?”

“Mer-magic. You wouldn’t understand,” said the Princess haughtily.

“Were they fighting against us?”

“Yes,” cried Bernard and Mavis before the Princess answered.

“And lucky to do it,” Francis added.

“If you will tell us the fighting strength of the Merlanders, your tails and coats shall be restored to you and you shall go free. Will you tell?”

“Is it likely?” the Princess answered. “I am a Mer-woman, and a Princess of the Royal House. Such do not betray their country.”

“No, I suppose not,” said the Queen. And she paused a moment before she said, “Administer the cup of forgetfulness.”

The cup of forgetfulness was exceedingly pleasant. It tasted of toffee and coconuts, and pineapple ices, and plum cake, and roast chicken, with a faint underflavor of lavender, rose leaves and the very best eau de cologne.

The children had tasted cider-cup and champagne-cup at parties, and had disliked both, but oblivion-cup was delicious. It was served in a goblet of opal color, in dreamy pink and pearl⁠—and green and blue and gray⁠—and the sides of the goblet were engraved with pictures of beautiful people asleep. The goblet passed from hand to hand, and when each had drunk enough the Lord High Cupbearer, a very handsome, reserved-looking fish, laid a restraining touch on the goblet and, taking it between his fins, handed it to the next drinker. So, one by one, each took the draught. Kathleen was the last.

The draught had no effect on four out of the five⁠—but Kathleen changed before their eyes, and though they had known that the draught of oblivion would make her forget, it was terrible to see it do its fell work.

Mavis had her arm protectingly around Kathleen, and the moment the draught had been swallowed Kathleen threw off that loving arm and drew herself away. It hurt like a knife. Then she looked at her brothers and sisters, and it is a very terrible thing when the eyes you love look at you as though you were a stranger.

Now, it had been agreed, while still the captives were in the net, that all of them should pretend that the cup of oblivion had taken effect, that they should just keep still and say nothing and look as stupid as they could. But this coldness of her dear Cathay’s was more than Mavis could bear, and no one had counted on it. So when Cathay looked at Mavis as at a stranger whom she rather disliked, and drew away from her arm, Mavis could not bear it, and cried out in heart-piercing tones, “Oh, Cathay, darling, what is it? What’s the matter?” before the Princess or the boys could stop her. And to make matters worse, both boys said in a very loud, plain whisper, “Shut up, Mavis,” and only the Princess kept enough presence of mind to go on saying nothing.

Cathay turned and looked at her sister.

“Cathay, darling,” Mavis said again, and stopped, for no one could go on saying “darling” to anyone who looked at you as Cathay was looking.

She turned her eyes away as Cathay looked toward the Queen⁠—looked, and went, to lean against the royal knee as though it had been her mother’s.

“Dear little thing,” said the Queen; “see, it’s quite tame. I shall keep it for a pet. Nice little pet then!”

“You shan’t keep her,” cried Mavis, but again the Princess hushed her, and the Queen treated her cry with contemptuous indifference. Cathay snuggled against her new mistress.

“As for the rest of you,” said the Queen, “it is evident from your manner that the draught of oblivion has not yet taken effect on you. So it is impossible for me to make presents of you to those prominent members of the nobility, who are wanting pets, as I should otherwise have done. We will try another draught tomorrow. In the meantime⁠ ⁠… the fetters, Jailer.”

A tall sour-looking Under-man stepped forward. Hanging over his arm were scaly tails, which at first sight of the children’s hearts leaped, for they hoped they were their own. But no sooner were the tails fitted on than they knew the bitter truth.

“Yes,” said the Queen “they are false tails. You will not be able to take them off, and you can neither swim nor walk with them. You can, however, move along quite comfortably on the floor of the ocean. What’s the matter?” she asked the Jailer.

“None of the tails will fit this prisoner, your Majesty,” said the Jailer.

“I am a Princess of the reigning Mer House,” said Freia, “and