After tucking the paper back into my bag and hiding that away under my covers, I change out of my soaked uniform and crawl into bed. Sleep is easy to find among the peaceful snoring of the other ladies. But even there, the prince finds me.

In my dream, I'm standing ankle-deep in water on some beach outside Lykke, overlooking the ocean. White foam laps at my legs as the sand sucks me down. The heavy salt hanging in the air smells like home and clogs my senses. Seagulls chitter around me.

On the horizon, there's a single black ship, its Anjordian flag billowing in the wind. Several dark figures stand out against the blue background as they work aboard. Their voices are caught in the waves between us and lost forever.

Slowly, the ship starts to turn towards the shoreline. It's then that I recognize the largest of the silhouettes, the one standing on the bow like a figurehead. His hands are perched on his hips as he balances one leg on the railing. With his hair tied back in a tiny bun, Prince Eero stares across the ocean, looking at me with a burning intensity. His blue eyes devour every inch of distance between us like it doesn't even exist.

My magic flares to life, warming up jellyfish in my stomach. I let its golden fingertips pull at the water and draw Eero's ship closer. A smile breaks across the prince's face as he waves at me.

I've never seen him smile like that—at least, not at me—and it makes my stomach do an uncomfortable flip. Why? What is this fluttering emotion?

I swallow back a touch of nausea as the ship docks. Now's not the time to be weak. I have a job to do, and I can't second-guess myself again.

While Eero strides off the ship, I reach down and pull my dagger out of its makeshift holster.

He walks down the dock.

Through the merchant stalls.

Across the sand.

Straight towards me.

This is my chance.

I tighten my grip on the blade and hold my breath. I have to do this. The magic in me swells, crescendoing to a pinnacle, but I bite it down. She won't stop me this time; I need to get it over with.

Then Eero stops in front of me. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, and they glitter where they run down the bridge of his nose. For a moment, his skin and white shirt are covered in the sparkling diamonds. I hesitate, shocked by the breathtaking sight of him.

I open my mouth—to say what, I don't know—but Eero reaches down and runs a hand along my face, so I slowly let it close again. His touch is feather-light, as if he's afraid I might break if he presses too hard. Like I'm sea glass. I freeze and focus on the way his hand feels—calloused along his fingers but soft in the palm.

In one massive step, Eero crosses the distance between us, and his hand drops onto my shoulder. He holds me in place, gazing down at me with his trademark infuriating smirk.

"I missed you, rød fisk," he whispers, and before I can even think to argue, his lips crash into mine.

My first instinct is to push away. Something isn't right. This can't happen. I have a dagger hidden behind my back, ready to kill this man.

But he tastes like the ocean. Like salt and sweat and sun and home. He's so gentle and soft and warm.

How can this be wrong?

I lean into his chest, into letting him hold me, into all the jellyfish tingles that his hands evoke.

But then the warmth starts to dissipate. The magic in my stomach retreats at the Divine burrows deeper into safety. Without her warmth, I can feel the biting cold of dark and evil magic.

Zula.

I push away from Eero and find my estranged uncle standing behind him. He's sitting in the shallows, his tail hidden by the blue of the ocean. His hair shines like the summer sun. Zula grins, flashing a mouthful of bright, white teeth. Something in his hand catches the light, and I squint to see what it is.

Finn's pendant.

All the air in my body abandons me.

My best friend's prison dangles from his wrist.

A terrified scream rips from my throat. "No!"

I rip away from Eero and sprint towards Zula. My legs get caught on the sand and slow me down, though. Before I've even crossed the beach, Zula has shattered the glass vial. The water inside evaporates with a puff of purple smoke.

My cry of desperation echoes in the near-infinity between us, and before I can stop him, Zula throws his head back, opens his mouth, and tosses Finn in.

I jolt awake, throwing the covers off as I sit upright in bed. The remnants of the nightmare circle through my head, and horror grips my lungs. I can't get the image of Zula out of my head. Can't stop shaking. Can't catch my breath.

Did he send the dream to me?

Is he trying to tell me something?

Why can't I breathe?!

"Ari...? Are you okay?"

My head whips towards a figure standing at the far end of the room. It's Britta, drying her hair with a towel. She cocks her head to one side and dips her eyebrows in concern.

When I don't answer, she hurries across the room to inspect me. I still can't seem to force air into my lungs, no matter how many times I open and close my mouth. Flashbacks of the night before rush back to me in jagged pieces. Giant hands on my neck. The heavy musk of testosterone. Helplessness. Suffocation. Digging for anything and everything to fight back with. My hands grab the covers in bunches as panic strangles me.

"I'll go get Madam Amaia!" Britta half-yells in her own panic. Then, tossing her towel at my feet, she bolts from the room.

He knows what I'm doing.

He knows I'm failing.

He knows everything.

I can't get away from him. I'm wasting time, and Finn's going to suffer because of me.

The room dips and spins, and I still can't catch my breath. My chest burns as I gasp and sputter.

The door suddenly slams open, and Madam Amaia rushes in. She grips both my shoulders and shakes. Hard. When I don't inhale on the first try, she does it again. And again. And again.

Finally, my lungs give up, and I suck in a mouthful of dry air. It floods the entirety of my being and pushes terrified tears out of my eyes. Amaia welcomes me as I collapse forward into her embrace. The panic's still there, still eating at my spine and threatening to paralyze me, but the warmth is back.

The Divine is back.

Amaia squeezes me, pats my back, and rocks me gently. All I can do is shudder and sob into her chest. There's no way to know how long we sit like that, but it feels right. I haven't let myself feel despair like this for a very long time. Being held by someone so motherly brings back bittersweet memories, and I can't help but unload everything onto her.

But eventually, I do stop crying, and my breathing returns to normal. Madam Amaia pulls away gently and holds me at arm's length. Her warm brown eyes study me, searching my face first and then moving down my body. Part of me wonders what she's looking for, wonders if she can see straight through my lies, and the second, more aware part knows she doesn't care. Amaia's just making sure I'm whole.

Her eyes linger on my neck for a second longer than any other part of me. "Are you okay?" she whispers, taking my hands into her lap.

I fumble for an answer. "I... think so." My voice is unusually hoarse. From the near-death incident? Is that also why my throat hurts?

Madam Amaia's thumbs rub circles on the backs of my hands. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," I say, a lot quicker than I should have. "Not really." The addition doesn't make her expression less suspicious. "It's just... the past, I guess. Chasing after me."

She sighs. "It has a tendency to do that sometimes." Her eyes fall to my neck again. "Sore?"

"Very."

"Figured you would be. Stay here, and I'll go get you some breakfast." She drops my hands back into my lap and rises from the bed. "Will you be okay alone? Just for a moment?"

"Of course," I say with a nod. "Go ahead."

Amaia leans down and places a paper-soft kiss on my forehead. "I'll be right back, then. I promise." Then, grabbing Britta on her way, she leaves.

I sink into the bed again, still panting from the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I'll never know if the nightmare was actually a message from Zula or just a manifestation of my own guilt. To be honest, I'm not even sure my uncle has the power to send dreams.

One thing is phenomenally clear, though—I'm more shaken by losing Finn than I am about kissing Eero.

I despise that man. I despise everything he's done for me, every act and expression that goes against the image of him I had built up in my head. I hate the way he smirks at me and calls me silly nicknames, how he and I have more in common than I'll ever admit.

And I hate how I can't stop thinking about him.

Even as I'm having a literal panic attack about my evil uncle eating my best friend—there's Eero with his frustratingly gentle hands and his ocean eyes and his saltwater lips.

I hate it all.

With a sigh, I rub at my sore throat and try not to think about the prince as I wait for Madam Amaia to come back.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. Madam Amaia checks on me every few minutes at first, but when she's sure I'm not going to implode, her visits drop down to every hour. I count the passing of the day by watching the sun move across the room's singular window. Other maids come in, each asking politely how I feel. But not one of them asks how I got two hand-sized bruises on my neck. I see them whisper behind their hands as they duck out of the room, though.

To ward off the worry of their gossip, I sleep. Thankfully, the dreams don't return.

Sometime in the evening, Josef drops in to check on me. He glances around the room and asks, "Are you alone?"

"I think so," I say with a chuckle.

"Good. My boss says I can't come in if there are other girls around." He shuffles in and sits himself on the edge of my bed. "Tell me, skatter, who do I need to threaten?"

I blink at him. "Excuse me?"

"Amaia told me you had a panic attack this morning." Josef reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "I've already gotten ahold of Eero and that ubrugelig guard William, but I have a feeling they aren't what's got you shaken up."

I laugh at the image of him sitting down to lecture the prince. It's a silly picture, but I can still see him doing that exact thing. Papa would as well. Funny how alike they are.

"No, it's not that," I admit. "Just someone from my... past." That's the safest way to word it, I guess. Zula isn't my past, though. He's my present.

"Do you want to talk about it," Josef offers. Gently, like Amaia did earlier.

I shake my head.

"Okay. Well, if you do, you know where to find me."

"Either in the kitchens or in your bed," I say with a smirk.

Josef laughs. "Exactly." With a firm pat to my leg, he pushes himself off the bed. "Night, skatter."

I mumble a reply and watch him start to leave. Then, "Josef?"

He stops and turns towards me again. "Hm?"

I weigh my next words carefully. I don't want to choose the wrong ones. "What do you do when you're not sure of something? Like... there's something you have to do, but you're not sure if it's the right thing."

Josef purses his lips together, thinking. "Well, I'd try to gather as much information as I can, from all angles, and try to make the best decision. Knowing me, I'd wait until the last moment to actually decide," At my confused look, he adds, "Because I'd want to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it wouldn't be a mistake."

"But what if you still make the wrong choice?" I ask, scooting up a little more in bed. The panic starts to nibble at my chest again. "What if you gather all the evidence you can and you still make a mistake?"

He hums softly as he walks back to my bed. His hand lands on the foot rail, fingers tapping out a thoughtful rhythm. "Making mistakes is part of what makes us human," he says. "They're unavoidable, I guess. Is this decision going to lead to pain?"

I nod. "There's no way to avoid it."

"Then you're going to have to decide who or what is most important to you and choose in their favor." His voice is soft, serious. "Taking care of the people you love is never a mistake, Ari, even if the road is a bit... unfortunate for the other riders."

I grip the covers and pull them up to my chin. "But what if there's people I love on both sides?"

If I kill Eero, Josef and Amaia will suffer.

If I don't kill Eero, Papa and Finn will suffer.

I didn't mean to love these two humans. I didn't mean to slip into their comforting words and parental touches, to find solace in their presence. This was never, ever intentional.

But now I can't escape it.

And I don't want to hurt them.

"I don't have a solid answer," Josef whispers. He eases the covers out of my grip, smooths them out again. "You're going to have to make a choice eventually."

"But I don't have a choice!" I squeak.

It's not like I can just not go through with my end of the deal. That would mean giving up my throne, my future, my everything. My kingdom would be in ruins with Zula in the seat of power.

Josef lowers himself down to look me in the eye. "There's no such thing as not having a choice, skatter. One just has to look in all the corners. You'll be surprised what kind of help you find in unexpected places."

Help... Is he offering me help? Of course he is! That's just what kind of person Josef is.

Would he still offer if he knew what I was here to do? Suddenly, the dagger under my pillow is too sharp. Too real. Too heavy.

"Are you in trouble, Ari?" he asks. "Let us help you if you are. The palace can protect you."

I stifle a nervous laugh but end up choking on the irony of his statement. I'm in trouble, alright, but the palace can't help me.

Not when I came here to destroy it.

"I'm fine," I lie. "Or I will be. Thank you for your advice."

His face softens a little, but worry is still etched in every line of his forehead. "If you say so. Goodnight, Ari."

"Goodnight, Josef."

With one last wave, he leaves me alone with my panic and towering decision.