Between cleaning and Amaia's initial tour, I've seen every corner of the palace. The most secluded closets where jackets hang, collecting dust, and the popular rooms where plush velvet seats sit, worn to bare threads. I've even climbed to the tip of the tallest tower and seen where the doves nest. Thanks to Eero, I've even seen the training field at the very edge of the grounds.

But the garden is one place I've never been able to explore. There's never been any spare time, and upkeep outside the palace isn't my job. There's a thrill of excitement in my chest, buried deep under the weight of what I'm about to do.

A stone pathway stretches out in front of me, curling out of sight under a canopy of branches. Not a single artificial light mars the tranquil scene; instead, the way is lit by tiny fireflies, blinking out their messages to other insects. They float lazily between the vines hanging over the stones and through the moonlight trickling like a slow trellis of water.

Keeping my dagger close to my chest, I follow the barest illumination through the growth. The beauty of the vines and moonlight is enough to take my breath away, but there's also flowers everywhere. Silver light catches on clusters of pink blossoms. Purple bursts of short, thin flowers stretch towards the sky, shielding shorter white and yellow blooms. Some plants I can name—like the ferns that reach long arms over the spotless pathway and the roses that grow in segregated groups of red, yellow, pink, and white. But others, I have no idea what they are.

The names mean nothing, but suddenly, I wish Sam was here to tell me all about them. I'd rather listen to his heavy accent than be assaulted by the silence and all that comes with it. My guilt can't be pushed away by scenery, no matter how beautiful or serene.

A gentle sound reaches my ears as I walk further into the darkness. I recognize it instantly. Water. A shallow creek, maybe, moving over stones. My body seeks the moisture without being told to, led by the magic coursing through my veins.

What I find is a small stream cutting through the hidden underbrush. In the daylight, I would have seen it long ago, but in the dark, it's near invisible. Little orange and white fish dart through the water, and smaller, nearly translucent minnows zip around them. I kneel on the pebble-covered bank and dip my hand.

It's cold, colder than I expected anyway, but it still feels good on my fingers. The fish swim back after their rapid retreat and nibble happily on my skin. They must sense the Divine's presence. My magic buzzes happily in response.

Honestly, I could stay like this for the rest of the night. Playing with fish, watching fireflies, smelling flowers, tracing constellations... It would be all too comfortable, all too familiar.

But with every passing minute, the knot in my stomach swells bigger. I can't stay, even though I really want to.

Pushing up, I flick the water off my fingers and sigh.

"Bye, friends," I whisper. The little fish circle the ripples I created when the water fell from my fingers. Then, when the surface settles, they swim away. Their absence leaves a gaping hole in my chest.

Will I ever make it back home? Will I ever get to swim with the fish again? To race dolphins and pet jellyfish?

Maybe. If I can kill this prince.

I readjust my grip on my dagger and start walking again, keeping my steps quiet. The flowers thicken and fill the air with a heady perfume. When the path splits, I choose the left, figuring I can circle back if it comes to a dead end.

The first hint that I'm not alone comes in the form of the jangling of keys. Then, heavy footfalls crashing through decaying leaves. Then, soft whispers.

I freeze.

"How's your nose?" someone asks. It's a deep, masculine voice, probably a guard.

A different tone grumbles and swears in Anjordian.

"Guess that'll teach you to abuse women," the first voice says. The grumbler has to be William, then. "Don't know why you agreed to fight the maid in the first place."

"Pride," William grunts.

The other guard chuckles. "Did you gain any?"

Another spew of swears from William gives the answer. The other guard cackles.

"Shut up," William growls. "I will not hesitate to throw you under the wagon if we get in trouble for being loud. My face can't take any more of Eero's beatings."

"Yeah," his partner says between stifled snorts. "You're ugly enough as is, man."

Two wrestling shadows appear on the stones in front of me, and I duck sideways into the brush. At the sound of movement, they both rush forward, hands shooting to the hilts of their swords. Luckily, neither of them see me in the inky darkness.

"Must've been an animal," William's partner says.

William nods. "Must. Come on, let's circle back around. Give the prince his space."

The two of them leave, and I climb out of my hiding place. Eero has to be ahead, so at least now I know I'm moving in the right direction.

This is my shot.

The stone path ends, leaving a well-worn patch of dirt as my only way forward. I duck under the low-hanging branches and squeeze my way through the untamed greenery. Here, there are no flowers, only tall stalks of grass and squat shrubs. The path has been formed naturally, maybe from someone walking along it regularly. Leaves curl away at specific angles, never crossing their boundaries, and bhe branches above are clipped neatly.

Ahead, the trees open up. Moonlight comes down in droves, lighting up every shadow along the way. I walk to the very edge of a clearing where the shallow grass of the shade shifts into taller, thicker wilderness. I tuck myself into the shadows and search the clearing for any sign of the prince.

At first, it looks empty. Fireflies dance between odd, tall rocks. Some of them have writing on them—names and, I think, dates. It's hard to read each one from this far away and in this light. But there are dozens of the stones, stuck straight out of the ground in rows. They've been placed here, surely.

But by who? And why?

I squint past the first few stones, noticing a larger rock a short distance away.

Wait. That's not a rock.

That's Eero.

Goosebumps explode over my bare arms.

He's here.

Alone.

What is he doing?

I circle the clearing from the safety of the perimeter's shadows and position myself so that I can see him better. He's sitting on the ground on his knees. His back is hunched and open as he faces one of the stones. This marker is more elaborate than the others. It has flowers carved around the name, cascading roses that tumble down the sides.

"Her Majesty Else: Queen of Anjord," the first line reads. "The strength and light of her kingdom, and the pride of her people."

There's a small pile of freshly cut flowers on the ground, and that's when it hits me.

This is a grave.

Eero's paying his respects.

My grip on the dagger loosens.

Eero shocks me as he suddenly whispers, "I'm sorry, Mama. I'm trying to stop him, I promise, but..." His sigh is defeated. His body slumps forward so that his elbows rest on his knees. "I don't know what else to do! Father's out of control, and... He won't be reasoned with. This war..." His voice breaks, and he runs a hand down his face. "I just want to do what's right, Mama, and this can't be it. I don't know how to fight him anymore."

My heart breaks for him. He looks so defeated, so tired. How many times have I been in this exact position, praying to a mother I miss with every fiber of my being, pleading for help, for support, for guidance? That feeling of being helpless and optionless—it's one I know well.

"I thought I'd met someone that could help me," Eero continues after a moment, "but it didn't work out. Now I'm back to square one again."

The clearing goes quiet, and I weigh what I'm hearing. What does he need help with? Is he having trouble convincing his father to start the war? Or is he trying to stop it? I'm still not really sure what side of this fence the prince sits on. And who is the "someone" he found?

"And today, someone got injured under my watch. A maid in the palace. I was stupid and curious, and she ended up hurt." He shakes his head, fists balling up in his lap. "It was a moment of idiocy. I promise it won't happen again, but... I know you'd be ashamed of me. I just thought..." His voice trails off. "It doesn't matter what I thought. Josef asked me to watch her, and I didn't."

Josef asked him to watch me? When?

"Please, Mama, give me strength. Any you can spare. I need you now more than ever." Eero brushes a leaf off the top of the stone and runs his fingers over Queen Else's name. "I miss you so much, and I'm so sorry. I don't know if I can do this anymore."

A groan of heavy emotion eases out of his body, and he sinks forwards to hold his head in his hands.

It's all I can do to stare and bite back tears.

For the first time since that day at sea, I realize Eero and I have some things in common. He prays to his mother; I call to the Divine. He's failing at a task; I can't follow through on mine. The weight of expectation weighs both of us down, tears us apart from the inside out. His body is wracked with guilt, and so is mine.

I take a few silent steps, preparing to drive my sword through his back. It's the perfect opportunity. I can't waste it.

But the more I stare at Eero's trembling outline, the more my magic tightens and pulses. I try to step forward, but a golden tendril forces my foot back to the ground. It holds me in place, locks my heart up, freezes my body.

The Divine doesn't want me to do it.

Not now.

Not like this.

Why not?!

Why does She care how he dies?

Why do I care?

My stomach tightens with a sickeningly familiar feeling, and suddenly, I know I'm intruding on a moment so intimate that I'm the one embarrassed. The Divine loosens her grip on me, and I edge back through the brush. This time, I glide over the foliage because She doesn't want me to disturb him.

Neither do I.

Before I know how I've gotten there, I'm standing ankle deep in the stream. The fish are circling again, slower and lazier. A golden haze settles in a halo around me. It's the Divine, or Her magic at least.

"That was my shot!" I growl under my breath, fisting handfuls of my skirt and kneeling in the water. "I could have killed him! I should have!" Frustration collects between each word. It filters through my teeth, makes my hands shake.

The Divine doesn't answer. Of course, She doesn't. She only interferes when I don't want her to. Anger builds up in my chest like a dammed river, pushing, swelling, waiting.

She won't let me kill him. She won't answer me.

She won't help me!

"What am I supposed to do?" I whisper-scream, slamming my hands into the water. The fish scatter in fear, and my skirt sinks into the water. While I stare at it, panting and seething, the water settles back into place peacefully. Unbothered.

Desperation replaces my fury.

"What am I supposed to do?" I repeat. This time, my voice is tiny—the tone of a child who's lost her mother, who feels lost and alone, who can't fathom how an intangible thing like fate could take away the best thing in her life. I haven't felt this small and weak and helpless in thirty years, since I watched my mother's body sink to the bottom of the trench during her funeral rite. I bury my face in my hands, both wet and trembling.

The emotion closes around my heart like a fist. It strangles the tears out, and soon, I'm full-on sobbing.

I have to complete this mission. Eero's death has to be the end result of this, whether the Divine likes it or not.

But will She let me?

Why can't She see that he's the enemy?

Is he, though?

Even I'll admit I'm not definite about Eero's place in this plot.

I take a quick breath and use a quivering hand to wipe the tears off my cheeks. Sitting on the bank, my feet still in the water, I let my head drift back and stare at the sky. Stars poke through the deep blue blanket like little silver needle holes. They blink down at me, old familiar friends.

Focus, Arielle. You're better than this.

One deep breath leads to another until the trembling of my body stops making the leaves rustle. All I have to do is connect the dots. If Eero isn't guilty of what I thought he was, then I may not have to kill him. Maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to talk Zula out of the contract, especially if I find out who's really responsible for the war Eero just confirmed. Surely even a semi-evil warlock doesn't want an interspecies war.

Surely not.

So how do I quit chasing my own fin and put these pieces together?

Pushing up off the ground, I hurry back through the garden and into the palace. It's as quiet as it was when I left, thank goodness, because my now-soaked dress slaps against my legs noisily. I gather it together and slip silently into the dark servant's quarters. From under my mattress, I retrieve my bag and carry it into the bathing room.

It's empty, as expected, but a soft light fills the room. The fires that once heated the water cauldrons still burn low in their hearths. An orange glow dances up the gray stone walls behind them and licks the ceiling.

I flop down on one of the wooden benches, digging through my bag for Zula's note. It's tucked under what's left of my clothes. From the very bottom of the bag, I pull out an item that I stole from Eero's study when I was cleaning it earlier in the week.

A quill.

At the time, I thought I'd be able to write a letter to Papa, telling him I was okay or something. The more I tried to plan how to get it to him, the more I realized it was impossible. So, I've been keeping the quill hidden in my bag with a little vial of ink. Just in case.

I unfold Zula's note as gently as I can and lay it across the bench beside me. I've never used ink like this before, but surely it won't matter.

No one will ever see this but me.

After dipping the quill tip in the ink, I write across the top of the page:

Is Eero starting a war or not?

Using the light from the flames to see, I list everything I know.

I take a deep breath and look at my list. There's two more that I need to add, but I can't bring myself to do it. The first one's easy; I'm just having trouble wrapping my head around the concept. With my hand trembling, I scribble:

Merfolk aren't perfect. We disagree and fight. We banish our brothers to the darkest corners of the ocean.

But there's one thing we don't argue about—the Divine. She has the final say in everything. Everyone under Papa's rule has magic like mine, but those with the most can feel Her presence more, can guide others in following Her guidance.

If She doesn't want me to kill him, I should respect that decision. She's never been wrong before, and I've never had to disobey Her. Why would I start now? I scribble a star next to that point. Figuring out why the Divine doesn't want him dead should be a top priority.

It's the second addition that is much, much harder for me to admit, simply because I hate it.

I despise that it happened in the first place, that I needed his help at all. I hate that I can still feel his arms cradling the back of my knees, the way he touched my skin, how he ran his grubby princey hands against me. He looked so... so...

Remorseful.

It was enough to make any normal person swoon, grovel at his feet, and ask him for forgiveness. It's too bad I can't stand him, or I'd feel bad for him as well.

But as I'm thinking about the fact that he saved me, I can't ignore the jellyfish in my stomach. What they mean is a mystery to me, but goosebumps spread across my bare arms and I force myself to take shallow breaths.

It's a simple infatuation. The prince is attractive; no one can deny that

But he's also cocky and arrogant and grumpy beyond measure.

Eero might not be guilty of starting a war, but that doesn't mean I have to like him.

It doesn't change anything.

Or does it?

Either way, I've got three weeks to figure it out.