Two days later, the king's body arrives in an elaborate wooden casket, covered in flowers and draped in the Anjordian flag. Eero won't let me attend the funeral because I'm still healing, but Finn and I watch it from the study window.

Half of Lykke gathers in the front lawn of the palace, standing solemn in their dark outfits. More line the streets outside the walls. Women mourn loudly when they clutch children who don't understand but still feel the weight of the sadness around them. Soldiers, some retired and graying in their outdated uniforms and others barely of age with pubescent and pathetic excuses for facial hair in their new, clean clothes, like the wall and audience, swords drawn. Each helmet gleams in the autumn sun and blinds the two of us.

I can't look away, though.

Their song of grief drifts up to us in long, low notes. Eero stands alone in front of his father's casket, chin held high. For the hundredth time today, I wish he would have let me go with him. Even if I had to stand with the staff members, maybe my presence would have reassured him.

Maybe.

Regardless of the maybes, I'm sitting on a couch that Finn and I dragged to the window, shoving Eero's desk out of the way. My best friend sits quietly beside me, legs tucked under himself, his head propped tiredly on my shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, it almost looks like he has a tail again, but unfortunately, we're both stuck like this.

Who knows for how long.

My magic hasn't come back yet, not in full-force, anyway. I catch fleeting swells of warmth whenever Eero glances at me in our stolen moments during the day, but She's just out of reach when he inevitably leaves again.

Even if She was here, I don't know how to transform us back, and there's no one here to teach me. Papa might have been able to, but I cut myself off from him when I came here. I did this to myself. I'm going to have to figure out how to fix it myself.

"His people really love him," Finn whispers as a long, sad hymn ends and the instrumentalists from Lykke start playing.

I nod. "Well, I think it was the old Soren they liked. The one before Zula tainted him."

Finn hums in agreement and shifts a little closer to me, pulling Eero's blanket up around his shoulders. The poor thing still hasn't recovered from his time in the vial. He's quieter, weaker.

"You okay?" I ask, craning my neck to look at him.

Finn nods.

"Are you sure? You look cold."

"I'm always cold here lately," he says. "Ever since, you know—" He waves his hand around and glances at me. "I'm fine. Really."

I don't believe a single word coming out of his mouth, but what choice do I have? I've asked him to talk to me about it. His answer is always the same: "Not yet." Pushing him would be wrong. I just have to wait.

Unfortunately, patience was never my strong suit.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?" he mumbles, watching the funeral proceedings below.

"About your time in the vial," I press gently, just in case he explodes. "When you were an actual fish."

He sighs. It's a heavy sound, filled with the weight of a thousand carefully bound secrets. Uncovering one might start an avalanche, and we could be buried under them.

Or it might be a forest fire and we emerge from the ashes like newly born flowers: fertilized and ready to bloom.

"It... was..." Finn talks slowly, testing each word with careful antennae. "Cold." He pulls the blanket up to his chin. "And cramped. I could hear everything that was going on around me, but I couldn't say or do anything about it. And every time you moved, it jostled the water and made me feel nauseous."

I start to apologize, but he keeps talking.

"And the glass... It rubbed up against my fins and pressed into me. At first, it didn't hurt, but imagine a rock being dragged across your arm for three weeks straight." He looks at me. "It burned, Ari. How can something be so cold and burn at the same time?"

I open and close my mouth a few times, looking for the right answer. For the magical, one solution to fix all his problems.

"I don't know, Finn," I settle on, too scared not to say anything when I don't find the cure-all I'm looking for. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's not okay, obviously," he says, laying back down on me. "But it will be. I'll never eat another fish again. Strictly vegetarian from now on."

I glance down at him in shock and see the way his cheeks poke out slightly. He's laughing! Oh, Blessed Divine, he's laughing. I never thought I'd be so happy to see someone else happy.

"It won't happen again, okay? I won't let Zula hurt you again."

"I know," he says. "I trust you."

Oh, how I hope his trust isn't misplaced.

Thinking about the future makes me uneasy.

The fish haven't returned to Anjordian waters yet, but neither has Zula. Eventually, I'll need to go talk to Papa, to tell him what happened and face his wrath. Will he be glad to see me or angry that I left? Will he shout at me or give me a hug?

If I can't fix this magic issue, I won't have to worry about it. Finn and I will never go home.

The priest who stands on the altar beside King Soren's statue calls the audience to attention by banging his scepter on the newly erected platform. The music fades away slowly, and his voice replaces it. I can't hear what he's saying, but there isn't a dry eye to be found. He lifts the king's crown from its place on the casket and hands it to Eero. The prince looks down at it, up at us in the window, and then turns back to the priest. His acceptance is lost in the space between us, but the audience claps happily.

Eero turns to face his people, and they look up at him expectantly. His mouth is moving; their eyes are lighting up. My heart is swelling, and the embers of gold are back.

He's going to be an excellent king.

It's just a shame he has to bear such a heavy responsibility so young.

As Eero's speech continues, I search the crowd for Amaia and Josef. They're standing at the front of a solemn sea of gray uniforms. The madam dabs at her eyes while Josef holds her tightly against him.

At least he has a palace full of support.

Eero will be fine, no matter what happens.

But will Finn and I be?

"You know," Finn whispers, "it's kind of ironic."

"What is?" I ask absentmindedly.

"You becoming the song."

I glance at him. "What song?"

"Oh, you know, the one you hate so much. 'Between Two Souls.'"

There's no stopping the laugh that bubbles out of me. "I don't love Eero. We're just friends."

Finn rolls his eyes. "Yeah, and the sky is orange, too."

His sarcasm warms me up. It's almost normal.

Almost.

"Isn't it, sometimes?" I tease. He jams a finger into my ribs and then apologizes profusely when I wince and jerk away. "Didn't that song have a sad ending?"

My friend goes still.

We both know the answer.

The two lovers were forced to part, bound by duty and lines between species. Is that what will happen to us in the end? Eero and I aren't lovers, I remind myself. We're just friends.

My eyes drift back to the ceremony. Eero now wears his father's crown and is kneeling down so that the priest can pray over him. I guess I'm going to have to stop calling him "the prince." Now he's a king.

It's a title that fits him better than any other would.

"What are we going to do?" Finn whispers as the crowd starts to file out, back to their homes and bed and happy families.

"I don't know," I mutter, watching the humans I've come to love stand together on the plush grass. Amaia pulls Eero in for a tight hug. Josef pats him firmly on the back. Magnus appears with a redheaded girl in tow and salutes his charge. The girl bows to the prince, and her warm smile never falters. Even from far away, I can see that she has the same warm brown eyes that Magnus does. She must be Kiersten, his older sister.

Far in the back of the crowd, with his arm in a sling and a little dark-haired girl clutching a handful of bright red flowers clinging to his pants leg, stands Sam in his farming clothes. He waves to Eero as the prince raises a hand in an apologetic greeting.

"Whatever we do," I say, looking down at Finn again, "we do it together, okay? Like always. Will you stay with me?"

He smiles. "To the ends of the sea, Ari. Whether you like it or not."