Eero is forced to slow down once we reach the middle of the city. The crowds thicken, and more than once we have to completely stop to find a detour around children or animals in the street. Our convoy travels in the opposite direction from which I entered the city, so none of the buildings look remotely familiar. If only I had time to enjoy the architecture.

Considering Eero keeps taking us around corners at breakneck speed, I hardly have time to look, let alone appreciate.

Eventually, Eero's guards catch up, huffing amongst themselves. Magnus leads the group, and surprise, surprise, he's the only one belly-laughing. The rest don't actually say anything, though. They just sulk. Eero's grin must stun them into silence.

I don't see anything funny about barrelling through the city on the back of an animal ten times my weight and size. My hands have gone numb from clenching Eero's leg, and I'm trembling all over.

Then, I smell it. My entire body relaxes.

Salt—so heavy in the air that it could smother me.

Fish—ripe under an unforgiving autumn sun.

Water—sweet, blissful, ethereal liquid of life.

My heart nearly bursts out of my chest with excitement. Magic flares to life in my stomach and warms my entire body. I sit straight up, trying to peer over the stone wall. I need to see it. Need to feel it. Need it.

"Just a few more minutes," Eero says with a laugh. "Would you mind letting go of my leg now?"

Glancing down, I retract my nails from his knee. "Sorry," I mumble as I smooth his pants.

"Don't apologize." He steers Max towards a gate that's identical to the other entry into the city. "Scars give a person character."

I roll my eyes. "I did not leave scars."

"How do you know? Are you sure there's not skin under your nails?"

"Of course there's not. Stop being so dramatic."

Eero laughs as we duck under the archway. The guards follow closely behind.

In the distance, farther away than I expected, a row of blue caps the horizon. It glitters in the bright sunlight, screaming out for me. Its pull is gravity in my chest. A blissful sigh leaves my mouth, and I relax backwards.

Into Eero's chest.

That thought jolts me upright again. Well, the thought and the fact that I could feel his pectorals on my shoulder blades.

"Now who's excited?" he whispers, chucking as he urges Max a bit faster.

"Oh, hush," I growl. "I just miss the water."

He hums knowingly. For a second, it feels like he might ask more, but then I remember he knows. Eero's fully aware of my connection to the sea. So why doesn't he press for information? Why doesn't he just tell me what he knows?

Better yet, does the fact that he knows what I am have anything to do with his invitation? Am I here because he knows how much I miss this?

Is Eero being nice again?

"Why doesn't Amaia like the docks?" I blurt, needing to distract myself.

"Pirates, mostly." He lifts an arm over my head and shifts the reins into one hand. His free hand returns to rest on his leg, but his fingertips graze my left hip. The touch is feather-light. He might not even know he's touching me. As I stare at his hand, though, his index finger twitches, moving millimeters closer to me. Like it wants to make contact.

"Oh. I thought it was something worse."

Eero laughs, and his chest brushes my back. "Something worse than pirates?"

"The pirates aren't bad. Just don't try to control them."

I'd know. Papa once tried to put a restriction on trading with the pirates, limiting their routes through Vandyan waters. All it did was infuriate them and we ended up with a shiver of sharks moving into the city the next day. Once we got rid of those, more came. For two solid weeks, the entire sea's supply of sharks migrated to our doorstep.

Not really devastating, but annoying.

So annoying that Papa dropped the restrictions.

"—on the property. Helps with commerce and the economy."

I missed something. "What?"

He huffs and flicks my leg with his free hand. "Were you seriously ignoring me?"

"Not intentionally. You encourage trade with the pirates?"

His chin moves my hair as he nods. "They're good businessmen."

"And women," I add.

The pirates are one of the few groups that don't care what gender you are when it comes to commanding. They just appreciate a good, strong captain. I respect that.

"Of course," Eero says softly. "And women."

"So, Amaia's scared of pirates?" That seems odd to me. Mama Bear isn't afraid of anything.

He nods again. "Doesn't trust them. She says they'll turn on me one day."

"They might," I say.

"Yes, but that's easily said about anyone, isn't it? We just have to take our chances and trust our instincts, and when the time comes, I'll cut ties if I have to."

Now it's my turn to hum in approval. "A smart decision. How often..."

My voice trails off as we approach a shadow covered marshland. A bridge has been built from sturdy, tan wood, and it cuts a path through the thick brush and water. The air's heavier here, filled with bugs and humidity. Eero slows down a little and goes quiet.

I almost don't notice when his hand shifts to my waist.

Or when his fingers press against my ribs, wrinkling my uniform and squeezing me softly.

I almost don't notice.

The ride through the wetland is quiet except for the cries of the wetland insects and the horses' hooves clicking against the wood. Eero sits tense behind me, simultaneously watching both sides of Max. His guards ride in a single file line behind us. None of them talk either.

I lean back against him and tilt my head up to whisper, "Why is everyone so tense?"

Eero looks down at me. A smirk plays at the corner of his mouth, and his thumb starts rubbing a comforting circle on my waist.

"Crocodiles," he breathes. "Massive ones."

I shudder. "Would they—Could—" My words trip over themselves. Giant crocodiles make me feel the same way as giant squids do. Terrified. "Have they ever attacked?"

"Yes," Eero admits. He reaches up and moves a strand of hair out of my face. "But don't worry, rød fisk. I won't let them hurt you."

I nod and shift around again so that I'm facing the path ahead.

For some reason, I trust him. Wholly.

The convoy falls into a tender, careful silence until we break through the other side. Then we all exhale.

A blissful feeling washes through me. The shadows are gone, and nothing but sand and sea stretches out in front of us.

It's an idyllic scene—glittering blue and white waves slamming into the nearly-white sand, gulls diving happily at the water and hopping across the ground, a couple of lone ships coasting past, bearing flags in a rainbow of colors. To the left, the wooden frames of open air shops line a dark pier. People mill about, dim blurs in the distance.

Eero nudges Max in the direction of the docks, but I can't look away from the ocean. I'm filled with the urge to jump off and run into it, to let the water take me back home. I just want to feel it on my feet, my hands, my face, my entire body.

But that's not where we're heading.

Eero must sense my sadness, because he gives my side a squeeze. "As soon as we're done, we'll go down to the water. I promise."

I nod. The sooner, the better.

Once we get to the pier, Eero slides off and then lifts me down to stand beside him. I wait as he retrieves a bag from Magnus.

"Okay, so your job is to record numbers for me," he says, handing me a scroll and quill. "I have to report them to Father tomorrow, so make sure you're accurate."

"Why are we gathering counts?" I ask, pushing my hair out of my eyes and twisting the quill around in my hand.

"When the storms blew in, our supplies dropped. Significantly. I told him the fish would come back eventually, but he didn't believe me." Eero huffs. "He thinks the ocean's launching a personal attack against him. That's definitely not the case, but I still have to somehow prove supply is climbing."

"And if it isn't?" I ask, chasing after him as he moves toward the docked ships.

"Then I'll have to talk him off a war-ledge," he growls in response. "And with Ursus in his ear, the king's nearly impossible to rationalize with."

Goosebumps crawl across my skin. Did he just admit that Ursus is trying to start a war? To me?

Eero glances at me over his shoulder. "Don't repeat that, rød fisk. It slipped." I draw an 'x' over my lips and smile at him. "Thank you," he says with a laugh.

By the time we've finished with the last fishing boat, the sun's beginning to set. It's significantly colder than when we arrived, but I'm scared to shiver. Eero might want to head home straight away, and I can't have that.

He waves his hand, and I hurry after him, ready to have this over with so I can get to the water.

I need to buy taffy to share with Josef and I need to touch the water. One of those is a minor craving, an itch under my skin and the desire to make a friend happy. The other is a downright hunger. If I don't let some piece of me come in contact with the ocean before we leave, I won't make it back home without falling apart.

Wait.

Did I just refer to the palace as home?

Oh, Divine.

Eero's voice jerks me out of my spiraling. "Are you sure that's all?"

The man the prince is talking to rubs his tanned head. Little wisps of white hair have been stretched over the large, bald expanse. Brown spots pock his face and arms, but his eyes are young and bright. He leans on the railing of his board while we stand beneath him on the dock.

"I'm tellin' ya, yer majesty. Only brought in twelve dozen that were worth keepin' this week." His voice gives away how remorseful he is. "They ain't jumpin' like they use'ta. Can't coax 'em into the net."

Eero runs a hand over his face. He's done that at each of our stops. His back grows more and more hunched as the day passes. I don't know what regular numbers are, but Eero's not happy with these new ones.

"It's..." The prince takes a deep breath and straightens up. "Don't worry about it, Elias. It can't be helped."

The captain, Elias, rubs his scraggly chin. "Other boats bringin' any more in?"

"No. Our supply's down. Significantly."

"Well, it ain't the storms," Elias says. "Those ended last week. Must be somethin' else."

"Any ideas?" Eero presses.

Elias hesitates. "You ain't been out lately, have ya?" Eero shakes his head, so the other man continues. "Ocean's real mad, yer majesty. Hadn't seen Her this mad in many, many years. Maybe you oughta consult the merfolk."

My head jerks up at the mention of my people. Eero's head tilts in my direction, but he's trying not to make it obvious. What do we have to do with this?

"The merfolk?" Eero asks.

"I know ya don't believe in 'em, Prince, but they're as real as the ocean itself. And if I ain't mistaken, they been keepin' the fish away."

"How do you know it's them, though?" Eero crosses his arms over his chest, pulling the back of his shirt tight. I have to stare at the muscles crossing his shoulders to keep the rising panic at bay.

What if the fish shortage is the merfolk's fault?

Is Papa looking for me? Does he know I'm here? If so, how?

Great Divine, Papa, don't give them a reason to attack!

Eero doesn't look angry. Instead, his brows furrow, creating little oceanic ripples in his forehead. He looks over at me, and for a moment, it's like he's looking through me.

I wonder what he's thinking.

Does he blame me?

Should he? Could this be my fault?

"They been leavin' their marks, yet majesty," Elias continues. He pushes off the railing and moves to a pile of fishing net that has been haphazardly thrown onto the deck. "It's almost like they want us to know it's them. Look at this."

He holds up the net, revealing some carefully cut crosshairs. If there were any fish in the trap, they would have easily escaped out of the massive hole. I see what he's saying, though. The places where the roles have been severed are too clean. Obviously, it's been cut by a knife, not an animal trying to free itself.

"And we found this lodged in one of the tuna just yesterdee."

Elias holds up a dagger, causing my heart to sink even further.

The weapon is sleek steel. The handle is pitch black, though. Threads of flashing gold run through the black stone, and a trident has been stamped in the center of the crosshairs. For a moment, I can envision one of the Vandyan warriors' hands wrapped around the slim weapon, aiming it directly at the head of a fish.

"If this don't belong to the mer, I don't know what does," Elias muses. He hands the blade to Eero, who has since looked away from me. The prince turns the knife over in his hand, then runs a finger down the gold inlays. In the sunlight, the magic embedded in it glitters.

How many times have I watched those exact daggers being forged? There's a hundred in the armory at Hygge alone. I've seen the metal being smelted over an enchanted fire, smelled the acrid smoke of it as it's poured into a mold, brushed away the shavings of precious black onyx. I've used my own magic to erode all the rough spots on the hilt away, putting little bits of the Divine in each and every weapon.

The daggers may be common, but each feels like a part of me. Of us.

This was a sign, and Eero's not stupid enough to miss it.

With a sigh, the prince hands the dagger to me. I take it without missing a beat, feel how my hand fits perfectly around the handle.

"I'll take care of it, Elias," Eero says in his firm, royal voice. Playful, friendly Eero isn't here right now; he's all business. "Thank you for working so hard for Anjord. Keep it up, okay?"

Elias nods and kicks the side of his ship. "Ain't no problem, kid. Anything for the kingdom."

Eero pats him on the back before turning on his heel and walking towards the row of shops on the pier.

I'm sure he's going to ask if Elias is right. He has to. There's not a doubt in my mind.

But Eero doesn't say anything. Instead, he storms up the wooden platform, stopping only when we reach the store front. I open my mouth to begin the inevitable conversation, but he cuts me off.

"Do your shopping and meet me at my ship. Magnus, keep an eye on her," he growls. It isn't an angry sound, not really. It's more like he's distracted. Instead of looking at us, his eyes stay trained on the ocean behind us.

Where has he gone? What has his mind so occupied? What's he planning?

Is he scared? Angry? Worried?

Why do I care?

The fact that I do is concerning enough. Don't I have plenty to worry about without adding Eero to the list? Anjord is his responsibility, not mine.

But if it's my fault... If people are going hungry because of me...

By the time I get my head out of my thoughts, Eero's already gone, so I can't even ask him. Or apologize. I can't even be sure which of those I was going to do in the first place.

Magnus gives me an apologetic smile but says nothing.

"You don't have to babysit me," I mumble, rubbing my forehead.

The guard rumbles out a laugh. "Oh yes, I do. Eero would skin me alive if I didn't watch you." He shrugs. "I like the pier anyway. This isn't a punishment."

"You say that now, but you've never seen how fast I can burn through money."

The giant of a man shakes his head but doesn't comment. His eyes shine with affection and warmth, admiration and acceptance. At least there's one thing I don't have to worry about.

Add him to my Decent Human Beings list.