Eero takes a cautious step back, disbelief flashing across his face.

"I heard you wrong," he mutters, lifting a hand to his cheek and rubbing some of the blood away. "I had to."

I shake my head. "You didn't, Eero."

The prince blinks. Once. Then twice.

I thought he'd be angry. That he'd lash out at me, scream at me, have me arrested, but as I watch him, the only genuine reaction I get is confusion. He doesn't want to believe it. Neither do I, really. In hindsight, the deal I made with Zula was stupid. Straight up idiotic.

But I can't take back my impulsivity now. It's too late.

"You came to kill me?" he whispers. His voice is small, weak, sad. Something deep inside me cringes away in pain.

"Yes, but I had my reasons."

He laughs dryly. "Do tell, rød fisk. Do tell."

As I move away from him, the hum of magic that once linked our bodies falls cold. I shiver instinctively and start to mentally dig through the air for it again. That had been the strongest connection I'd had to the Divine in weeks, and I'd just lost it. What had brought it out in the first place, though?

You know why, Arielle. Don't be stupid.

Eero watches me stiffly as I right the barrels again. Our food is wasted, which is a shame because that fish was delicious, but the bag is dry. I lift it off the deck and hang it on a nearby hook. Then, after patting Eero's barrel, I sit on my own.

"Sit, and I'll tell you everything," I whisper.

Eero hesitates. I can't blame him. We hardly know each other, and I just revealed I came to his kingdom with ulterior motives. Why should he listen to me? Better yet, why should he trust anything I say?

If the roles were reversed, would I listen?

Probably not.

After a long minute of him analyzing me and chewing on the inside of his cheek, Eero sits down across from me. His shoulders remain straight and tight, and he crosses his arms over his chest. He clenches his jaw, stares at me directly, and waits.

"Where should I start?" I ask softly. My stomach tangles itself into knots.

"The beginning," he growls. His voice is laced with anger.

"Well—You—I think—" I hiss out a nervous breath and swallow. "You were there. At the beginning. It all started when I saw your ship in our waters."

With a deep breath, I launch into my story. I tell him what I heard, how panicked it made me feel, how sure I was that he was going to attack us, how lost my father is, how I felt like I was the only person who could do anything.

I lay everything out in front of him.

How terrifying my uncle was. How badly the transformation hurt. How alone I felt in the city when the mother yelled at me. How disgusted I was at Master Ursus's interview. How I researched him by asking around the palace.

Eero never interrupts. He listens and studies my face, my hands, my jittering leg. His face remains locked in that semi-angry position, but occasionally I'll see a twinge of surprise or sympathy. A whisper of understanding.

I've never felt so exposed. Recounting my story like this—it's as if I've been sliced down the middle. My skin's been pulled apart, and all of my insides are on display. Every emotion I've buried under hills of fear and regret, every realization that I've shoved under mountains of denial.

Unsurprisingly, I want him to understand. I want Eero to look at me when I'm done and just... tell me it's okay.

But it's not.

None of this is okay.

I don't even know why I want his approval so badly.

Maybe it's the remnants of magic still buzzing in my veins or the friendship sprouting between us. Maybe it's echoes of loneliness, fragments of emptiness, or ruins of homesickness.

Whatever it is, the emotion burns. It ravages through my chest and down my arms. It sears my stomach and my heart. I can't fight this off with magic or resolve or a redhead's temper.

If Eero doesn't understand, I'll be crushed.

I'll lose everything.

He has to understand.

By the time I finish my story, I'm on the brink of tears. Emotion tightens my throat, chokes my words. Eero's fingers twitch where they rest on his knee, like he's struggling to be still. I close my mouth and stare at him.

And time freezes.

I wish he'd move—pace up and down the deck, throw things, run his hands through his hair, loosen his shoulders just a little.

I wish he'd say something—scream at me, shout for the guards, curse the ground I've walked on for the past three weeks, whisper that it's going to be okay.

I wish he'd do anything.

"Say something," I whisper, breathing the thousand pound silence. "Please."

His forehead wrinkles as his brows furrow. Slowly, like it hurts him, he lifts a hand to his chin and rubs the stubble growing there. His mouth opens, but it snaps shut almost instantly. He takes a deep breath and stands.

I gaze up at him and clench my hands in my lap. Dread lowers over my shoulders, a heavy blanket of drowning pressure.

"Why didn't you do it?" Eero whispers gruffly.

"Do what?" I ask.

"Kill me. Why didn't you kill me?"

I take a slow breath. "The night after you rescued me. After Amaia went back to bed. I went looking for you. I was going to do it then, before... before things got too complicated, before I should change my mind." My eyes lock on him. "But I found you in the garden, crying over your mom's grave, and I—I couldn't do it."

My voice trembles.

"You couldn't, or She wouldn't let you?"

He doesn't have to elaborate. I know who "She" is.

The warmth in my chest deepens. It rolls forward, presenting itself like a hand to hold. How does She always know when I need reassurance?

"A bit of both," I admit. "At the time, I blamed Her. Now, though, I know it was me too."

Eero sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "What happens if you don't?"

If I don't kill him? "Zula takes my seat on the throne when Papa gives it up, and my best friend dies," I say.

He hums in acknowledgement and looks away from me. "Would you still kill me? If you had to?"

I start to tell him no. That I wouldn't. I couldn't.

But a small corner of my brain says I would.

For my people? For our future? To save them?

"If I knew you were a threat, I would in a heartbeat," I say softly. "Regardless of whatever's between us."

A strangled laugh bubbles out of his mouth. "Og så brænder ilden mig."

"I don't speak Anjordian," I remind him.

"I know," he replies with a lopsided smile. It looks like it hurts him to look at me like that. Like I've wounded him.

I take a deep breath and let it out as slowly as I can. "Eero, I don't want to kill you. Not anymore. You're not starting a war against Anjord; you're trying to stop it."

He nods. "Trying my hardest, but these fish shortages aren't helping."

Now it's my turn to look wounded. "I know. Coming here without telling my father was stupid. That's my fault, and I can... I can fix it."

"How? You can't go back to your father like this." He sweeps a hand in my direction. "You're all... leggy."

I start to laugh at the odd way he phrased it, but my amusement is short-lived.

Can I go back to Papa? Can I somehow speak to him? Is it even possible?

Would he know how to fix this problem? Sever the contract? Zula never really said if Papa's magic could do this sort of transformation. Does that mean it's possible?

"I don't know," I finally admit. "But I'll figure it out, Eero. I have to."

He nods. "You're going to have to do it rather quickly. Father and Ursus have a meeting in two days to discuss declaring war. If you really want to stop them, you'll have to intercept Ursus before that."

I blink at him in disbelief. He's not... angry? "So it really is Ursus that I need to go after?"

Eero nods. "He's the one who suggested war with Vandya. Not me."

"I know that, you told me earlier, but..." The words tangle in my throat. "Are you not upset with me?"

The prince huffs. "I am. A bit." He lowers himself back onto the barrel and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. His shirt pulls tight against his upper arms. "But I also understand. There's not much I wouldn't do for my kingdom. If a stronger kingdom was threatening us, I probably would have done the same thing."

My mouth drops open as I stare across at him. Seriously? All that worry, and he just... understands?

What did I do to deserve this? He's... He's...

Too good for someone like me.

"It's not too late," he continues. "If we work together, we can still stop the war. Then, we'll get the fish back." Eero glances up at me, face serious. "But we're going to have to do it together."

And he's just going to trust me? After I just admitted all that?

"Hold on," I say, shaking my head. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd be enraged. This is the last reaction I expected." I squint at him. "How do you know I won't just turn on you again?"

Eero chuckles. "If you truly wanted to kill me, you would have done it by now. You've had every opportunity."

"True, but—"

He cuts me off with a hand. "I trust you. Now more than ever. It took a lot to admit that." With that annoying smirk of his, he adds, "Next time, if you don't want me to kiss you, just say that. You don't have to reveal all your life secrets."

Heat rushes to my face, and I snap to my feet. "That's not—I didn't—You—"

Eero's laughter drowns out my stuttered response, and all I can do is stomp and try to fight off the blush in my cheeks. I'm about to punch him again when heavy boot falls catch our attention. We glance over as Magnus tops the gangplank. His face is twisted in concern.

"Sorry, your majesty. I hope I'm not... interrupting something."

It takes a minute for the scene to register, and when it does, he grins deviously, teeth showing beneath his beard. Whatever he thinks is going on is ten times worse than this, I'm sure. I inch away from Eero, face still burning. He just continues grinning.

"Of course you're not, Magnus," the prince says. "What is it?"

The guard's eyes dart between Eero and me, and his smile fades into a proud smirk. Then, it dissolves completely as he remembers why he came. "Messenger from the palace. We need to head back." He takes a deep breath and adds, "Now."

"Is something wrong?" I ask, gathering Eero's bag.

"It's the king. He's ill."

Eero's face goes white. "What happened?"

"Not sure, your majesty," Magnus says. "He left early this morning for Epsjerg, and we've just received word."

Eero hustles me off the ship, toward the other guards and their horses. "Is he still in Epsjerg?"

"Yes," Magnus replies, leading Max to Eero. "So you're going to have to go there. I'll be going with you, of course."

Without warning, Eero grabs me around the waist and hoists me onto the stallion. Then, he swings up behind me. We're moving in seconds, running towards the marshland.

"No, I'll take William," Eero says to Magnus as he rides beside us. "You need to stay here and watch the palace."

"With all due respect, your majesty, I think it's best I go. I know the road to Epsjerg well. I can get us there and back in the dark. Quickly."

Eero's hand tightens on my waist. I hadn't even noticed it there, but now it's all I can feel. Between grasping the blanket for dear life and trying not to fall off, I give his hand a reassuring squeeze, a wordless assurance that I'll be fine without him. How they manage to formulate words when we're flying up the hills toward Lykke at a breakneck speed is beyond me.

"Fine," Eero finally concedes, "but I want to talk to William before we leave."

"Of course, sir."

With that, the two men fall silent for the rest of the ride. What took us about an hour before is merely a thirty-minute trip this time around. Max barely breaks a sweat, but the other horses shine with wetness. Their drenched coats catch the torchlight as we pass under the gates, clearing the archway and guards with ease. Eero's hand never leaves my side, but his eyes stay focused on the path ahead. Luckily, the townspeople have gone to bed, so we can take the shortest path instead of detouring.

The palace gate is already open for us. Our entourage hurries up the massive hill, towards the castle's elaborate oak door. The silver trim on its carvings catches in the moonlight and casts it back at us. Only when we reach it do the horses pull to a stop.

Eero swings himself off and then lifts me back to the ground.

"You don't need to walk me up," I whisper, patting my thighs to get some of the feeling back in them. I won't complain, not when I know what must be going through Eero's mind right now. If it was Papa that was sick, I'd probably have jumped overboard and taken Eero to deep sea with me.

"But I'm going to," he says, steering me towards the palace with a firm hand in the small of my back.

There's no point in arguing, so I don't.

"Water the horses," Eero snaps at the guards behind us. "Have them ready to leave in ten minutes."

A chorus of "yes, sir" answers him but are cut off as the door closes behind us.

Inside, it's quiet. Everyone's asleep, just like they were in the city. No one's there to yell at me for staying out too late or for almost kissing the man I literally came to murder. No one's there to help Eero either, though, to take me out of his protective grasp and usher him back out of the building.

I guess that's my job.

Once we get to the servant's quarters, I turn to face him. "Go," I whisper. "Now."

"I'm sorry," he whispers, leaning down to rest his forehead against mine. "I know we need to talk, to figure this out, to fix it, but I—"

"I know, Eero." And I do. Papa would still come before Eero, even with everything between us. "It's okay. We have tomorrow."

He pulls back and smiles down at me. His eyes drift down to my lips, but he stops himself. Something tells me he doesn't want to cross that line, doesn't want to be the person to initiate something. He looks at Amaia's door, which unsurprisingly sits open a crack. I can almost imagine her inside with an ear pressed to the wood. Josef's probably right there beside her, taking notes.

"As soon as I get back," Eero says with a firm nod. "I'm going to have William keep an eye on you. I should be back before Ursus returns, but... Stay away from him if he comes back early, okay?"

"I'll be fine, Eero," I say, shoving him away from me. "Go. You need to hurry."

He reaches back for me, maneuvering around my hands with ease. I don't resist as he pulls me in for a tight hug. He's warm and soft but firm in all the right places, like the best sort of pillow. I burrow my face into his saltwater soaked shirt, only to be pulled back as someone across the palace calls his name.

We gaze at each other for a moment, him at my grassy eyes and me at his oceans. Maybe that's why he reminds me so much of home. I can nearly see the curling green tendrils of seaweed and the gray shades of coral in his irises.

Eero reaches between us and holds my chin between his index finger and thumb. He tilts my face towards him, takes a single step to close the distance between us.

Is he going to finish what he started?

Do I want him to?

If we weren't rushed, if there wasn't a Mama bear sleeping in the next room, if his father didn't need him.

If, if, if.

I like the way everything in me sparks to life at his touch, how I feel like I'm floating on the waves in the middle of the ocean, wrapped in sunlight and warmth, staring at a cloudless blue sky. I'm a little girl again, filled with peace and happiness and innocence.

For a moment, while I gaze up at him, I feel happy.

Not worried. Not pressured. Not mournful. Not lonely.

Just happy.

How would it feel if we actually kissed?

Eero leans forward, and my eyes fall closed, lips parted for impact. But his mouth lands on my forehead instead. The kiss is long and tender, full of desire as his chest heaves in front of me and a sigh rumbles through him. When he pulls away, his mouth moves south, and he plants another quick peck to the tip of my nose.

I slip out of his grasp and thump into the door. He watches me carefully, probably waiting to see if I implode.

"Goodnight, rød fisk. I will see you soon."

"Night, Eero."

He smiles that soft smirk of his, and I melt a little bit more. Great Divine, I'm in trouble.

I watch him disappear down the hallway and then turn into my shared quarters. Without bathing, lest I wash off the remnants of the ocean, I strip out of my uniform and set Eero's bag down beside my bed. The rest of the girls are sleeping peacefully, so I crawl into bed as quietly as I can.

The near kisses—and cute double peck—replays over and over in my head, making me grin like a silly little girl.

"I wish you were here, Finn," I whisper to the pendant that I've got clutched in my hand. "I have so much to tell you."

Maybe I could just tell the flounder version of Finn. Surely he can still hear me.

I unravel my hand from the blankets and hold his cage up to my face. The sight of him takes my breath away, though, and I bolt upright in bed.

Where the water levels seemed okay this morning, they've now dropped significantly. It seems like half his body is left without. Panic plunges an icy arm through my chest and grips my heart in its hand. Finn won't last much longer. Is this my punishment for telling Eero? Have I done this?

Better yet—how can I fix it?

If I can't save Finn, everything I've done will be worthless.