Eric looked to the horizon again. The liner was closer now. Still on the wrong path. Still a breath from disaster.
“I trust her. I trust my queen,” Eric repeated, louder now, for any who cared to hear. “She saved my life. We gave each other vows. She won’t break them,” he said, quieter. “At least… I don’t think she will.”
And with that, he cast off the lines. The houseboat slipped from the dock, small and unarmored, carried by the tide toward monsters, men, and the woman who could ruin or redeem them all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The surface broke like glass around her. Moonlight spilled over the sea in silvery ribbons, catching on the slick backs of creatures that swam in her wake. Tentacles, spines, scales—every beast of the deep that had once answered only to rage now trailed behind her in uneasy calm, their monstrous hunger held at bay not by fear—but by her word.
Ursula floated just beneath the surface, her chest rising with each breath. The salt bit at her tongue. The cool water coiled around her limbs like an old friend, reluctant to let her go. Above, the wind howled low, and the sea whispered higher, a dozen currents brushing against her skin like invisible warnings.
Most of the monsters had relented. They would give her time. Let her arbitrate. Let her speak on their behalfto the man with the crown—if only because she promised something no one else ever had: fairness. A voice.
Eric would give her that much. She was sure of it. He'd listen to her, even if he might not ever hold her hand again.
But not all of the sea monsters had agreed. A few had slithered into the shadows of coral reefs and trench mouths, biding their time. Watching.
Flotsam and Jetsam lingered behind at the back of the party. Their sharp teeth were silent, their long bodies cutting slow, lazy circles at the back of the swarm. Loyal to nothing. Opportunists to their bone-white teeth. But even that was fine. So long as they didn’t touch the liner.
Ursula's gaze cut east, where the royal navy waited. Every ship sat quiet at dock, sails furled, hulls gleaming like the bellies of sea serpents. A thousand harpoons ready. None fired. A thousand eyes, watching. Hands at their sides or across their chests, waiting.
But then—there it was. A speck. A silhouette. The houseboat.
Her heart surged before her mind caught up. She didn’t need a spyglass to know who was aboard. She felt him—his presence, the pull of him—like a current through her blood.
Eric. He’d come. He was coming for her.
Shemoved to dive—to swim to him, fast as she could, to throw her arms around the only man who had ever looked at her and seen something worth holding on to?—
Pain bloomed white-hot across her side. She gasped. Her body jerked. She couldn’t move. She was snared. Not a net. Not a harpoon.
A trident. Barbed. Gold-tipped. It tangled in the currents beneath her.
Her scanned the depths. They came into view. Mermen.
Armored, bristling, gliding like swordfish, their weapons sharpened into pointed declarations. Their spears glinted in the dark like moonlight caught on broken shells. Their formation was tight, rehearsed. And behind them—Triton.
Rising from the deep like a myth turned real, white beard wild in the current, golden crown darkened with tarnish. His eyes found hers—rage and betrayal reflected back at her.
“Of course,” she muttered bitterly, baring her teeth. “Of course you’d make an entrance now.”
The liner was still crawling toward port, too slow, too heavy to turn.
Eric—her Eric—was out in the open, vulnerable, exposed.
And Triton’s army was moving fast enough to wake the kraken.
The water vibrated with the force of movement. Her body ached where the trident had pierced her fin. Still, she twisted, straining toward the houseboat, straining toward him. Toward her king, her husband, her love.
She was being truthful when she'd said a siren's true love wouldn't react to her call. There was no need for them to. On the beach that day, when she'd saved him, she'd sang for him to breathe. His obedience should have been instant. It hadn't been.
Ursula hadn't thought much of it at the time. She'd just assumed the man was closer to death than she could sing him back to life. When he'd coughed up the sea, she'd filled her lungs with air and felt relief. When he'd opened his eyes and looked at her, she'd had to swallow hard at her reaction to him. Because she'd wanted to sing to him.
Not a siren's song. She'd wanted to sing a love song. It was the most absurd sensation, and she'd swum away from it. Away from him. Now she was swimming her fastest to get back to him.
Eric was out there, close enough to see. But not close enough to reach him. Gods, she wasn’t sure if she could save herself this time.
Triton rose like a specter from the deep, his goldentrident catching the dim light filtering through the waves. Her brother was out for her blood.
