The rest of my night is fitful. I don't sleep for more than a few hours because I keep waking up to check on Finn. He seems to either be asleep or dead, but I refuse to acknowledge the second as a true option.

Pink dawn starts to peek through the windows, and the other girls around me begin to wake up. Most of them shuffle to the bathing room right away, but some sit on their beds for a while, trying to wake up. Amaia arrives some time later and passes out steaming cups of morning tea.

Her eyes skim over me, but she doesn't stop. I'm still sitting in the same spot I was last night, propped up on my pillow, clutching Finn's pendant and trying not to panic about everything. Like it wasn't enough to have Eero away. Now this.

I want to tell someone, to get it all off my chest, but I can't.

If I involve Amaia or Josef, I'm dragging them further into my mess, and that could mean putting them in danger. They'd both want to be my refuge, to protect me from the evil chasing me, but... they can't. I've done this to myself, and I need to fix it.

By myself.

I just have to... get back to the water. Beg Zula. Barter something else away to him. I have to figure something out.

Too bad Finn's not here. He's the calm to my impulsivity. The logic to my emotion.

I need him now more than ever.

When Amaia's done passing out the tea, she comes to sit at the foot of my bed.

"You missed supper," she states, raising an eyebrow at me. "But considering you're here, in one piece, I guess the prince doesn't need to be scolded."

"No, no, he was fine." I rub the back of my neck. "We just... got busy on the boat and lost track of time."

"And the numbers—how did they turn out?"

"Low," I admit. "But we're going to fix it."

She gives me an odd look. "We?"

"It's... a long story."

For a moment, I think she might ask me to tell her anyway, but in the end, she just sighs and pats my leg. "You can catch me up later. We need to get ready."

"Ready?" I ask, pulling the blanket off and pushing myself to my feet. "I was actually going to ask if I could take the day off, since Eero's gone. I have somewhere I need to go."

Amaia shakes her head. "Not today, you don't. We need you around here."

"Why?"

"Master Ursus is here. Or will be, rather. He's in the city now, but he sent word ahead to have breakfast ready. Josef's been working since dawn."

My heart stutters, and the dress I'm pulling on falls to the floor. "He's here? Already?"

I'm not ready to face the advisor! Not with Finn about to die and Eero gone and... everything else! It's too much for one person to handle.

But Amaia either doesn't sense my panic or doesn't care. I'd vote for the former.

"Already. Now, get dressed and meet me in the dining room. Don't dally." She stands and calls to the rest of the room, "Up to it, girls! I need you at your morning positions in ten. Master Ursus will be here any minute."

That gets everyone moving. The girls who were still sitting in bed shoot upright, running half-dressed to the bathing room. A few girls duck out of the door, braiding their hair and pulling on their uniforms haphazardly. Little blonde Britta nearly trips over her own shoes as the tumbles out of the door.

Madam Amaia collects cups left in their wake and leaves me to get dressed. I pull on my uniform, hesitating only to smell the ocean on the coarse fabric. It's stiff from the dried salt, and the pockets of my apron are still damp. I don't mind, though.

The remnants are a beacon of comfort when it feels like everything's collapsing on me a little too quickly. A moment of breath when it feels like I might be drowning.

I tie Mama's dagger onto my thigh, tuck the mythos under my pillow, and hurry out of the quarters to find Amaia.

We manage to set the table at record speed. Amaia lays out the placemats—which have been expertly embroidered with lace and silk—and I use a fresh, wind-dried towel to polish the silverware before I put it perfectly in its place. Other girls mill about, cleaning glasses, double checking the corners for dust, and fluffing cushions. A dread-fueled tension hangs in the air like a heretic.

"Go tell Josef we're done," Amaia says from the head of the table, where she'd been inspecting the scene. The massive mahogany table has three chairs around it—one for Master Ursus and two for his personal guards. Ursus will be sitting in the huge chair at the head, a place usually reserved for the king. It's another oddity, a way he's blurred the lines between King Soren and him, like how he made himself at home in the king's office. No one dares to tell Ursus he doesn't belong there, though.

They're all paralyzed by the fear stagnating the air Ursus occupies.

I understand the caution and can sympathize with the vibration of dread moving through the room. I've known since I first met him that Ursus isn't someone to mess with. I just didn't know the full depth of his crimes.

"Yes, ma'am," I say to Amaia, gathering my towel and hurrying out of the room.

Like the dining room, the kitchen is a frenzy of activity. The smell of freshly baked bread and grilled meats wafts into the hallway as I approach. It adds pleasantry to the otherwise hectic atmosphere.

Standing bent in front of a bread oven, the kind built into the wall, Josef directs his workers with efficiency and serenity. They rush around like crazed minnow while he works calmly by the oven. He pulls a metal sheet out with one hand, sets it on the table, and starts to fan at it with another pan.

"Geoff, put those on that plate, son," he says, glancing over at me. "Hello, Ari. Is she ready for the food? Has Ursus arrived?"

"The dining room is ready, but he's not—"

A sudden bell brings the bustle to a screeching halt. It echoes off the walls and settles over us like fine mist. The boys look around, fear taking over their faces.

He is here.

It's time.

Another half second passes before Josef announces, "It will be okay. It's just breakfast. There's nothing for us to be worried about."

I smile at him, and several of the other boys do too. The ones that aren't about to soil their pants, anyway. We all exhale in unison.

"Geoff, grab the meats. Andre, the eggs. Neo, the juices, please. I'll bring the bread and butter." No one hesitates to jump at his command. "You three—" He points to a gaggle of boys standing by the ovens. "Stay and make sure there's enough wine for refills. Have the stronger alcohol on hand, as well. You know how his guards drink." They nod and disappear down a dark hallway, towards the cellar.

"Can I help with something?" I ask.

Josef shakes his head. "We've got this. You stay away from the dining room."

"But I want to help."

He draws a knife out of his block and slices through one of the loaves of bread with ease. Then, he piles the pieces into a basket. "Sorry, skatter. I'm under strict orders from the prince to keep you away from Master Ursus. Until he comes back, at least."

My entire body bristles. "You talked to Eero? When?"

"Last night, before he left. He also told me William was going to be keeping an eye on you. Have you seen him?"

"I don't need a babysitter," I snap, ignoring his question. I knew Eero was going to have someone watch me, but I didn't think he was going to literally control what I did while he was gone. William will make me stand in a corner and twiddle my thumbs—the complete opposite of what I need to be doing to prepare for confronting Ursus.

"I know," Josef says gently. "But an order's an order. Surely you understand that. Here." He hands me a small basket. The food inside is wrapped in a muslin cloth. "Take this and find William. It's enough for the two of you."

Resigned, I take the food and watch Josef shuffle out of the room.

The last thing I want to do is meander around the castle looking for William. I've got to get back to the ocean, figure out how to save Finn, beg my way out of a contract...

Hurry, hurry, hurry.

There's no time.

I've wasted it already.

Slamming the basket down on the table, I duck out the back door, cutting through the shrugs and heading for the main entrance. The gate sits open in front of me, guarded to the teeth as always. Will they let me slip by, or will I have to lie my way out? I decide to risk it and try to sneak out.

"Woah. Slow down," a guard says when he spots me. "Shouldn't you be in the palace, greeting Master Ursus and all that?"

I cringe. Time to lie. "Josef told me to go into Lykke for more..." My brain fumbles. "Alcohol. You know how Master Ursus's guards drink. We're running a bit low, and it would be bad if we ran out completely."

I clamp my mouth shut, afraid I've already said too much in my panic-induced state. The guard makes a face of understanding, though.

"Those two are the worst drunks. They always overload themselves and then want to challenge every soldier in sight." He rolls his eyes. "But who am I to deny the advisor?" Contempt rolls off his tongue.

"Better watch yourself," another guard warns. "I've heard a rumor that Master Ursus has some ungodly hearing and can tell when someone's speaking ill of him. He'll smite you."

The man in front of me scoffs. "He's a man, not a god."

"You sure about that? With those eyes of his, I wouldn't be surprised if he was the god of All Hells in the flesh."

"Oh yeah, they're all black, right?"

The second guard nods and moves towards us, whispering conspiratorially, "Like bottom-of-the-ocean black. I've heard they suck the souls right out of young virgins."

I shudder at the memory of the abysmal eyes, the ones that reminded me a bit too much of my uncle's.

A quick hand nails the man in the back of the head.

"Stop scaring her," the first guard snaps. "They're dark blue, not black, but why have you been looking at a man's eyes that closely anyway?"

"Can't a man just admire another man's eyes?"

"I guess, but it's kinda weird."

"Ain't nothing weird about appreciating—"

Tired of listening to them bicker about things that don't matter, I ease past them and sprint down the cobblestone street. They yell at my back, but the sound of their voices only recedes as I run. If they wanted to follow me, they would have. Apparently, the two of them have bigger fish to argue about.

I cut through alleys, shove through a bustling market, and leap across a child's game, all the while keeping my eyes on the blue strip of horizon.

I have to get there, have to hurry.

Finn's prison thumps against my chest, restrained only by my snug uniform. Already it's sweltering outside, and sweat drips down the front of my dress to pool in the gap between my undergarment and waistband. The rosy skin of my arms and face burns more with every step I take.

Finally, panting heavily, I reach the gate out of the city. Past a handful of guards stationed there, lines of people are waiting to be let in: fruit merchants, women with children, a lone man leading his horse.

My eyes continue to take in the crowd, but I snap them back to the man.

Sam.

His dark skin makes him stand out from the lighter-toned people around him. The soft fluff of his short hair is easily recognized. While his beard's grown out a bit, his bright eyes are the same. Even Milly looks identical to the last time I saw her. She hangs her head patiently, nibbling at the fodder Sam's holding out for her.

A desperate thought hits me: Sam can help me.

This is the Divine looking out for me again.

I lift a hand to yell at him, but the words don't have a chance to leave my mouth. Two massive hands wrap themselves across my face and jerk me backwards.

Panic and magic tangle together as they rise in my chest. I thrust the magic outwards, trying to use the forbidden controlling magic on whoever's holding me, but it slams into a wall. No matter how much concentration I pour into the magic, the person holding me doesn't budge.

So, I resort to kicking. Screaming around the coarse, sweaty hand, I drive my left foot back towards my captor. It nails them right in the shin, causing them to grunt. They don't let me go, though. If anything, their grip just tightens painfully on my face.

Why now? Why am I being attacked now?

As the person drags me backwards into an alcove between two buildings, I stretch my arms at my sides. If I can just reach the dagger, I stand a chance. A small one, but a chance nonetheless. The cool material of the hilt kisses my fingertips, but I... can't... get it.

Just as I get my fingers around my weapon, my captor slams me to my feet. My legs buckle, and I fall face first against the cobblestone. While pain radiates up my hip and spine, I clamber to my feet, drawing Mama's dagger as I do.

But the sight of the person looming over me nearly makes me drop it.

Everything stops.

My breathing, the city around me, the clouds rolling overhead, the heat of the unforgiving sun.

I freeze and my eyes go wide as I take him in.

He's huge—twice as wide as I am and three times as tall. His upper body is that of a rock pile, all muscle and definition. Black stripes of ink stretch across his forearms, snaking towards his hands in serpentine patterns. Little sucker-like circles crawl up his neck and circle around his head. Deep gashes of scar tissue cut across his face, slicing his lip and cheek, and his thick eyebrows curl down towards a nose pocked with massive craters and scars. His gray eyes glint dangerously.

But it's the teeth that kick my memory into gear.

They're bright yellow and shaved to terrifying points.

And there's two men, I realize, as a second figure appears behind the first.

Jett and Lot.

Zula's men.

"Hello, little princess," one of them says.

The other finishes by asking, "Did you miss us?"