He could still feel the press of her fingertips on his skin. The salt-slick warmth of her hair tangled in his hands. The softness of her voice—like wind against sails or the hush of the sea at dawn—whispering for him to hold on, to live.
He didn’t know if he had imagined her. But he did know he wasn’t ready to let thoughts of her go just yet. Just a few more days. A few more days to bask in the memory—or the fantasy—before duty claimed him again.
Once it did, he would bury her. He would forget her. Because that was what a good ruler, a good husband, did.
Sebastian’s claws snapped together sharply, pullingEric’s attention back to the emissary. “I assure you, the princess is most eager to meet her betrothed, but certain… ah… unforeseen circumstances have delayed her departure.”
Eric wasn’t foolish enough to ask for details. The Sea Kingdom kept their secrets tightly wound beneath the waves. He clasped his hands behind his back, forcing a composed expression. “I’m sure whatever has delayed her is… important.”
Grimsby cleared his throat, as if willing Eric to at least pretend at disappointment.
“I only wish for her to arrive safely. That is my first concern.” A non-answer, perfectly diplomatic. Eric was back on his game. "Can we offer you some hospitality? I would be grateful if you dined with us."
The crab clicked his claws again and took a step back. "Dinner at a human table does not sound appetizing. I will return to search for—I mean seek out an arrival date for your betrothed."
Eric nodded, as was expected. But he had caught the slip. Something was wrong.
The moment the crab was gone, Grimsby let out a long-suffering sigh. “My spies tell me that the princess has not been seen in the Sea Kingdom for some days.”
"Do you think she's run away?"
"It would be bad if she did. We need this alliance."
Eric tamped down on the rising relief. This was his duty.
"I've taken the liberty to send out some of our men to look for the princess as well. It's a quietly kept secret that she has afriendshipwith Princess Aurora."
Eric didn't understand why Grimsby put emphasis on the word. Princess Aurora was everything a princess of the realm should be. It was good that she and the mermaid were amiable.
"Aurora is set to marry Prince Phillip soon."
Eric had met Phillip before and liked the man immensely. Phillip and Aurora were two very different people, but that was royal marriages for you. It wasn't about personal preferences. It was all about alliances and agreements. It would make sense that Aurora and Ariel would befriend each other, as both women were facing the same fates. He hoped the two forged a deep bond. He certainly wouldn't get in the way of their friendship moving forward.
"I'm going to head to the docks."
"Not another sea voyage," moaned Grimsby.
"Just need to stretch my legs after being in bed all day."
"You were in bed all night like a normal person. Likely the first full night's sleep you've had in years."
"Yes, and it's made me restless. I won't be long."
"Just promise to come back. I can't have two royal runaways on my hands."
Running away from his duties was something Eric had never considered. At least not before the dream of red hair and sea-blue eyes. But he didn't have to run away from that vision. He simply needed to go somewhere alone, close his eyes, and revel in a dream that would never come true.
CHAPTER SIX
The waters near the shore were different from the deep—warmer, saltier, carrying the scent of sunbaked sand and the musk of human civilization. Ursula swam just beneath the surface, her dark form slicing through the current like a shadow. The weight of her plan pressed against her shoulders like the crushing depths of the sea.
She was going to impersonate Ariel. The thought coiled in her gut like a slick, unwelcome eel. She would have to play the part—silent, simpering, sweet. It was going to be infuriating.
All her life, her father and brother had refused to hear her voice—cut her off, dismissed her, silenced her. But when it suited them? Oh, then they’d pluck herwords like pearls from the sea floor, polish them, present them as their own. Her ideas, her strategies, her brilliance—all stolen, twisted into decrees proclaimed from a throne she was born to serve but never allowed to approach.
Her father would’ve married her off like Triton had done with his daughters, traded away like shiny trinkets for treaties with distant oceans and far-off seas. But both of them knew Ursula was too mouthy, too headstrong, too disobedient to bend to any sea creature’s will. She’d have burned the bridal reef down before letting herself be used as a pawn.
So when the excuse came—when one tiny ripple of scandal, one surge of power she hadn’t properly bowed for, made the court shift nervously—they pounced. They snared the moment like hunters in bloodied water, and they cast her off. Banished her from the palace, from the family, from the kingdom she had been born to shape.
