It's the second time I've told it in its entirety—from the moment I decided to go to Zula's lair up to the magic-fueled battle in Eero's garden. Recounting my own stupidity hurts. My cheeks burn in embarrassment and shame. Why did I ever think going to Anjord was a good idea? I walked into an obvious trap like a mindless sponge, and I had the nerve to think I could be successful. I've never killed anyone; what made me think I could kill Eero?

Papa listens carefully, his face never changing. There are three little wrinkles between his eyebrows, and his lips pucker in a thoughtful pout. Like always, though, he gives me his full attention, as if I'm the only creature in the entire universe worthy of being listened to. It makes me feel both exposed and safe, both guilty and loved. It makes me want to tell him everything—the sparks of magic I feel when I'm around Eero, the way I almost got myself strangled by a human, the fight that caused me to lose Mama's beloved dagger. He only nods occasionally, never reprimanding me.

Blessed Divine, I don't deserve him.

"And I'm here now," I finish, sniffling. When did I start crying?

"And you're here," he whispers, squeezing my hands. Pearls of moisture line his lower lashes, but they don't dare spill over.

"I'm sorry, Papa. I honestly thought—" My breath catches. "I thought I was helping us. Protecting our people. I thought it was what Mama would have wanted."

Papa laughs dryly before pulling me in for another hug. "Who knows what that heavenly woman would have wanted. She was too complex for any of us to ever understand anyway."

"Why didn't you tell me how she really died?"

He shrugs, and I pull away. "I was scared you'd go running off for revenge. Arielle, you loved her more than anyone else. I knew she was your everything, and I was afraid you would charge into Anjord and kill King Soren yourself."

I cringe. That's actually exactly what I would have done.

Papa continues, oblivious to my expression. "I couldn't stop my brother, but I could stop you. You were still young and under my control. For just a while, I wanted to hold onto you, to shield you from..." He looks at the humans on the beach. "From them."

I glance at Eero. He's still kneeling, still staring at me, still guarding. His eyes are softer, though, and unless it's a trick of the light, I swear there's a line of moisture down his cheek. He's heard my story. Why does it move him now?

"I told your mother countless times to stay away from the humans, to stop associating with the queen, to leave it alone, and she would never listen. I could make you listen." I look back at my father, and he's smiling sheepishly. "At least, I thought I could. No one ignores the Divine."

No one ignores the Divine.

Didn't I use that exact line to justify chasing Eero's ship in the first place? She pulled me towards him, towards this mess, and I want to know why.

"What do you mean, Papa?" I ask, letting go of his hand.

He leans in, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and whispers, "You know, when I met your mother, everything turned golden. She wasn't royalty, wasn't even my friend; Athalia was Zula's best friend. He had brought her to the palace for a tour and didn't even intend for the two of us to meet.

"But then, I saw her across the library and felt this... warmth in my chest. I knew I had to introduce myself. Silly, since she knew who I was—everyone knew the king. Either way, the moment we touched—" Papa sighs blissfully, lost in his own memory. "I was never cold again. As long as she was alive, the Divine warmed me from the inside out. She lit up every room she entered, and my mind and heart weren't immune."

I've heard parts of this before, but never the "warmth" part.

"We made each other stronger," Papa continues. "Without her by my side, we would have lost the Great War."

I stiffen. No. Surely he's not... No...

"You and Mama were fated mates," I point out. "Divine chosen mates."

He nods. "A very odd thing, even when there were so many merfolk. The Divine doesn't often force connections like that."

There is nothing to say. He cannot be suggesting what I think he is.

"The Divine didn't care that Thalie wasn't royalty. She knew that we'd need each other." His voice drops. "I wish Zula could have seen that."

Speaking of Zula...

"Papa," I say, glad to be off the fated mates topic. "I don't think Zula's done. I didn't kill him."

My father shakes his head. "You couldn't have. Zula is mostly invincible. He's made sure of that by swearing off parts of his soul to the dark gods."

My heart sinks. "So it's impossible?"

"Not... impossible." His mouth twists. "You cannot keep chasing him, Arielle."

"I have to, Papa. I started this."

He shakes his head. "Let the humans deal with it. Don't do this."

I grit my teeth and match his height. His forehead wrinkles return. "He's threatening Eero's kingdom and won't stop until they're all dead. I can't let that happen when I'm the one who started it."

Papa stares at me. His shoulders droop; his back slumps. Resignation gleams in his sad, gray blue eyes. "Blessed Divine, you really are a clone of your mother."

My heart threatens to leap out of my chest. What a compliment. "I know."

He shakes his head. That must be his new permanent motion. "It wasn't a compliment, baby girl. She chased the humans, too. I lost her. Am I going to lose you as well?"

"I don't intend to fail, Papa," I say.

"Neither did she."

We don't say anything for a while. The sun creeps over the horizon, drying the sand and our hair. Birds wake up in the trees behind us. They take flight over our heads and land noisily on the sand to find breakfast.

"Promise me you'll come home," Papa says suddenly. I startle but look up at him. "No matter what happens—to me, to you, to him—" He juts his chin at the statuesque Eero. "You have to come home when you're done. Your kingdom needs you."

I nod.

It's not really something I can promise, but I fully intend to swim in Hygge again. No matter what I feel for Eero, no matter what the Divine plans for the two of us; I want to go home. I want to lounge in the seaweed beds and be miserable on fishing duty. I want to chase off the shark pups and eat soggy sweets from the merchants. I want to chase little fries around the palace and dry the pages of Mama's books after a rainstorm.

"I promise, Papa," I say, meaning every single word. "I promise I'll come home."

He searches my eyes for some hint of a lie, but when he doesn't find one, he nods. "Then I guess I should teach you how to transform back and forth. I should have done it decades ago." In one swift movement, he pushes up out of the sand and extends a hand towards me. "And then King Eero and I can discuss this silly war between him and Queen Maeja."

As much as I want to take his hand and trust that everything will work itself out, something isn't sitting right. Why is he being so... accepting? He should be furious with me! He should pick me up and force me back to Hygge and then never let me leave the palace again.

"Why?" I ask as I stare up at him.

"Why what?" He raises one eyebrow at me.

"Why aren't you mad?" I pause and shift up onto my knees. The grains of sand dig into my skin, causing me to wince. "Or disappointed or something. You're just...okay with it all?"

He contemplates his response for a minute, chewing on the inside of his cheek. It's good to know where I got that habit from.

"I'm not okay with it," he finally says. "But if there's anything I've learned from being your father it's that you're too much like your mother. The more I try to force you to do anything, the more likely it is that you'll do it." He runs a hand through his hair, and for a moment, it isn't as sad and droopy. "Maybe if I'd supported Athalia instead of trying to change her, she'd still be here today. I can't go back and fix what happened to her, but I can prevent it from happening to you."

Something cold and painful spreads through my chest. I am too much like her—from my eyes to my fascinations. Now I'm putting my father through All Hells, just like she did. When does it end? When do I stop before it's too far?

"I won't hurt her," a voice says before I can reply to Papa. It's low and gravely and comes from someone behind Papa's shoulder. I crane my neck around and look at Eero. He's gripping the hilt of his sword so hard that his knuckles are white. A muscle in his jaw twitches as he stares at the two of us.

"Your mother told me the same thing once," Papa says, turning to face him. "I didn't trust her, and I don't trust you."

Eero bristles. "My mother didn't kill your wife. That was King Soren, and—" His voice falls to a near whisper. "And I can't speak for either of them."

I hold my breath as Papa crosses the sand. He seems to swell with each step. His hair emits a soft golden glow; his trident hums with magical energy. When he reaches Eero, the two of them stare at each other—king to king. Papa towers over him, but Eero, finally done kneeling, rises to his feet and meets him at eye level.

Once again, I'm surprised at how brave Eero is. Or is he just pretending? His eyes flash for a moment, but was that fear or rebellion? Wiser men than Eero have crumpled under Papa's might, and yet, this human king has the nerve to stand in front of him.

Eero is the first to talk. "My father captured Queen Athalia and had her killed," he says, dropping each word in the sand like a tiny bomb. We all feel the power of their vibrations and desperately wait to hear what he'll say next. "And my mother hated him for it. She lived nearly twenty years after that, and every single day was spent in total hatred for his slaughter."

He reaches behind him and pulls a hand-bound book out of his belt. It looks like a miniaturized version of the mythos—brown, tanned cover and silver lettering embossed on the front. From here, I can only see the big words on the cover: "Else Dagny Eirikr."

It must be his mother's journal.

Eero looks away from Papa for a moment to flip through the book.

"Mama wrote down everything," Eero says to himself. "There are dozens of these hidden around Lykke palace. She said it was because she felt like her life was short and she didn't want us to forget the important things. I wasn't allowed to read them until after she died." He stops on a page and turns it towards Papa. "This is from the day Queen Athalia was killed."

Papa takes the book out of his hand, and I scramble up out of the sand. It's all I can do not to wrench the book away from him. This is the story I've been waiting to hear from Eero. Was he saving this for now? Why?

Between Papa's fingers, I catch words and phrases in the familiar neat handwriting. It's undeniably Queen Else's. I've read enough of the mythos to decipher it. There's a royal air about the way she curls her Es and a flourish to the tail of her Ys. I can't read it all; time has faded a lot of the words. Yet, the snippets I can read catch my breath in my throat and threaten to cripple my knees.

Life without her is empty.

Soren's fault—

—despise him.

He deserves—I will never forgive—

"I don't know what my father was thinking," Eero says, "but he was wrong in what he did, and he paid for it with his life." Papa looks up from the book, his deep blue eyes pained. "Your brother enchanted him and eventually killed him, just like he did my mother. I am not your enemy, King Triton. They are. My father and Zula."

He glances over at me, and the storm in his eyes stops churning. His pupils dilate instantly, and his jaw stops clenching. Eero relaxes minutely, and Papa notices. Unlike Eero, he doesn't soften. Instead, he purses his lips and glances between the two of us.

"I am not my father," Eero says, his eyes still glued to mine. "Jeg kunne aldrig såre hende. Hun betyder for meget for mig."

I don't know what that means, but I do recognize the second phrase. Eero said the same thing when he was reassuring Amaia that I wouldn't get hurt during our trip to the docks. I try to commit the phrase to memory so I can ask Magnus what it means later, but it's hard to concentrate when Eero's staring at me so deeply. Warmth is spreading through my stomach again as the magic reaches out for him.

"Why?" Papa says, breaking the trance. I blink and try to shake off the buzzing in my head.

Eero looks back at him. "I don't know. Hun gør livet bedre. På grund af hende ved jeg, hvordan lykke og kærlighed føles igen."

Papa doesn't even blink before he responds, "Hun var også mit lys. Kan du beskytte hende?"

He speaks Anjordian, too?!

"Ja," Eero replies. Even I know that means "yes." What did Eero just agree to? "Med mit eget liv."

My father nods. "Good, because if the two of you plan on ending this, you will have to face my brother again." He snaps the book shut and looks at me. "You cannot fail, Ari. Zula has to be stopped."

"I know." And I do. It's a pressure that's been weighing on me since the garden.

"I would kill him myself, but—" His forehead creases as if he's in terrible pain. "I don't think I'm strong enough to do that."

My head seems to shake itself, even though something deep inside of me is begging to ask for his help, to ask him to go to Snejorn with us and take care of Zula. "I can do this, Papa. I have to."

He nods, but the wrinkles don't flatten. "If anyone can, it will be you." He reaches out and cups my cheek in one warm hand, and I melt into it.

This is the moment I want to stay in. Zula can bottle me up exactly like this, and I'll be complete. His hand is soft and steady, familiar in the best sort of way. I never want it to move, never want to go without.