And since then? The kingdom had dulled.
Once, the Sea Kingdom had led the tides—bold, thriving, admired. Now they clung to crumbling coral and outdated customs. Instead of leading the waves, they were falling behind the wake. The other seas were advancing, evolving. But not hers. No, these waters were struggling to stay relevant. Groveling for allianceswith landlocked humans and inland kings just to stay afloat.
Sea creatures struggling to keep their heads above water. The shame of it. They wouldn’t be simpering to surface-dwellers if she still had a voice in court. If her ideas hadn’t been swept away like wreckage. If they hadn’t cast out their most cunning daughter for saving the life of a brat.
And wasn’t that the cruelest irony of all? That now she was slinking toward human royalty, courting the very creatures her father had always loathed, pretending she had no voice—just to take back what was hers. Fate had a cruel sense of humor.
Ariel had never known this kind of silence. The youngest princess had been born without a voice box, never able to shape words, never able to argue or demand. And for a fleeting, strange moment, Ursula felt something almost like pity—a flicker of tragedy in the fact that Ariel would never know what it was like to be truly heard.
But Ursula knew that pain. She had lived it. And Ariel—spoiled, indulged, adored Ariel—had never suffered for it. Even without a voice, she had commanded attention, had learned how to manipulate without words, had basked in her father’s love while Ursula was cast out.
The flicker of pity was snuffed out as quickly as it had come. Ariel had never been silent. She had been a demanding, whining, ever-present reminder that Ursula had been pushed aside, forgotten, stripped of her rightful place. But now Ariel would serve a purpose.
Ursula smirked, tilting her head back as she floated beneath the skies. The gentle lap of waves against the rocky shore was almost soothing. Let them all ignore her now. By the time she was done, she wouldn’t need to speak. She would have everything she was owed.
She had almost reached the shore when she spotted them. A small delegation of sea folk waded into the shallows, their forms eerie and shifting beneath the waves. At their head was Sebastian, his hard crimson shell gleaming, his bug-like eyes darting nervously from side to side as though he expected an ambush at any moment.
Ursula curled her fingers into the sand, her claws raking through the silty seabed. She couldn’t be seen. She eased herself deeper into the shadows, letting the seaweed sway around her like a cloak. The salty brine thickened the air around her, mixing with the faint scent of fish and decay from the tide pools clinging to the shore.
Sebastian let out a frustrated click of his claws, histone sharp, strained. “This will not work forever. Prince Eric—he is no fool.”
A ripple of unease passed through the small group. One of the diplomats, a tall, sleek creature with dark, shining scales, flicked his fins impatiently. “The princess will be found. We just need more time.”
Sebastian scoffed, his clawed hands tapping out a rapid click-click-click against his own shell. “Time? Time?! We don't have time. Did you hear the latest report? A royal ship went down the other night."
"The reports are that it was in unsanctioned waterways. We have warned the humans about going beyond our protection."
"What if they start to think we can't protect them even in those waters?" Sebastian shot back. "With Ariel missing, what if they think we can't control our own princess? The humans are restless, the treaty is unstable. If we do not get this marriage finalized, we risk losing the alliance entirely.”
“We just need to keep Prince Eric believing that she’s simply… delayed. If he suspects the truth?—”
“Then the whole thing falls apart,” Sebastian finished grimly.
Silence fell over the group, heavy as the tide. The moment Sebastian and his delegation slipped beneath the waves, Ursula pulled herself onto a jagged rock, thewet stone rough and barnacle-bitten beneath her palms. She flicked her tail against the rock, watching the way the scales gleamed, still slick from the sea.
A pressure built behind her ribs, a bone-deep ache, like her very body resisted what she was asking it to become. Her spine arched as the transformation took hold. The silver-blue of her scales dulled, the iridescence fading into vulnerable skin. Her tail split, slowly, painfully, like a flower forced to bloom through frost. Muscles stretched in unfamiliar ways. Nerves sparked to life. Flesh reshaped and bones groaned as they reformed—knees, calves, feet—until what had once been fin was now a leg.
She collapsed onto her side with a gasp, her breath ragged. Cool air kissed the insides of her thighs—skin that hadn’t felt wind in years. She was completely bare from the waist down and shivering. The water still clung to her, salt drying sticky against her skin, her hair plastered to her back and shoulders.
When she finally pushed herself upright, her arms trembled under her weight. Her legs were unsteady beneath her, the muscles foreign, too long unused. She managed to stand, one foot, then the other, wobbling like a newborn foal. Each step was a negotiation between gravity and grace.
But still—she was up. On land. The sun cut through a break in the clouds and kissed her damp skin,warming the gooseflesh there. Somewhere in the distance, a gull screamed.
Ursula tilted her chin up to the sky, her mouth twisting into a smile not of joy but triumph. Now all she had to do was sneak into the palace and become the princess they were so desperately waiting for. She could already picture it—draped in silk, smiling sweetly, nodding like a well-mannered fool while Eric fell right into her hands. She’d bat her lashes, play the docile little thing the kingdom expected, all while securing the power that had always been meant for her.
Ariel had run away. Ursula was going to walk right into her place. She took a steady step forward—and froze. Because someone was watching her.
She felt it before she saw it—that prickle along her spine, the deep, wordless awareness of eyes upon her. Slowly, too slowly, she lifted her gaze. And there he was.
The man she had pulled from the sea.
The man she had almost let drown.
The one she should have forgotten.
He stood on the shore, dark hair tousled from the wind. Beneath a dark cloak, his white shirt was open at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The white was stark against his brown skin. His eyes were locked on to her.
Not with fear.
