Eric shrugged. "I don't know. My wife was pretty determined when she left. Perhaps you should scurry home and check your throne."
The moment the crab was gone, the nobles surged forward again—voices rising like gulls in a squall, all beaks and feathers and noise. Accusations flew like sea spray.
Eric heard none of it. He returned to the open window. He lifted his nose into the air and inhaled.
Salt.
Sea.
Her.
He exhaled slowly. His fists loosened. His shoulders dropped from where they'd been clenched beneath the weight of crown and court.
She was out there. Somewhere in the waves. Not running—not hiding—but fixing what she could, cleaning up a mess she hadn’t created alone. She’d told him, more than once, that no one ever listened to her. That men had stolen her brilliance, her strategies, her power, her voice, her song when they replayed her lyrics in their own words.
She’d saved Ariel’s life and been banished for it.
She’d saved his life, and he’d interrogated her instead of thanking her.
She had no allies because she trusted no one. Because she’d been taught over and over again that loyalty was a blade you gave others, only for them to bury it in your back. And still—still—she had played the game with him. She had reached across the board, across their pasts, their lies, their titles, and chosen to move beside him.
And what had he done? Left her to face the backlash alone. Just like everyone else had done before him. Just like her father. Her brother. Every smug noble who had silenced her voice and stolen her brilliance.
Ursula had survived banishment. Piracy. Betrayal. She didn’t wait for rescue—she rescued. She didn’t plead for a place—she claimed it. She didn’t beg to be seen—she commanded attention.
The sound of wings broke through Eric's reverie. Feathers beat against the wind as a sleek black gull swept through the window, flapping once before perching neatly on the carved stone sill.
A scroll was fastened to its leg. Eric had sent the gull out over an hour ago to warn the liner. He untied the scroll, eyes scanning the ink as it unfurled. The news he found on the parchment lit a fire under his feet.
Eric turned to face the throne room.He was still angry—still aching from the betrayal of it all. But more than that, he was done letting her fight alone.
Dozens of expectant faces met his gaze—nobles, captains, advisors. All of them jostling for favor. For power. For position. None of them had the clarity to see the game for what it was. They were all playing checkers on a chessboard. The only way to win was to partner with the strongest piece on the board.
He needed his queen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The wind whipped at her hair, tangling it like seaweed in a storm. Ursula stood at the edge of the cliff, the jagged stone cool beneath her bare feet. Below, the tide crashed against the rocks in frothy bursts, salt spray misting the air and stinging her skin. The sun's rays stretched across the horizon, casting the sea in shades of gold and rose.
She didn’t dive. She didn’t slip beneath the surface and vanish into the depths where she belonged. The sea called to her, but she waited.
It was a pointless exercise. No one came storming after her. No firm grasp caught her wrist. No voice—fierce and familiar—called her name, begged her to stay. There were no heavy bootfalls pounding the path behind her. No cloak thrown over her shoulders. Noarms wrapping around her waist to pull her back into a future she was no longer sure belonged to her.
She had imagined him coming. Had pictured it so clearly; Eric breathless, eyes wild, saying none of it mattered. That she could be Ursula or Ariel or a siren or a liar or all of the above, and still he’d choose her. Still, he’d love her.
But the cliffs remained empty. The only hands touching her now were the wind’s, cool and uncaring. The only voice was the sea’s, rising and falling like her breath.
Still, she waited a moment longer. Just one more.
She wasn’t some weak, wailing thing waiting to be saved. She never had been. She was a queen. And it was time she reclaimed her throne.
A flicker on the horizon. A ship. Her eyes, sharper than any human’s, cut through the mist, focusing on the vessel cresting the waves in the distance. The ocean liner was returning. She recognized the curve of its hull, the flutter of its flags, the glint of golden trim catching the light.
It was moving fast. Too fast. Which meant it was in restricted waters; prime tide for pirates, as it was just above the kraken's nest. Seems the captain was gambling twice. Idiot.
That path had been laid with traps, a device rigged by the pirates, meant to summon the beast and sink theship. It was a calculated ploy, one she had set in motion herself, the final step in ensuring that the kingdom’s goods were stolen and funneled into the waiting hands of her treacherous former allies.
She shouldn’t care. The kingdom had turned on her. Eric had turned on her. They would brand her a traitor whether she did something or not.
