Seasoned sailors and hard-nosed navy officers stiffened like marionettes caught mid-dance. Harpoons wavered. Eyes glassed over. Fingers loosened on triggers and hilts. Even the creatures of the deep, monstrous and wild, faltered in their charge. The kraken, that ancient titan of shadow and tide, curled back ever so slightly, its massive tentacles swaying in the rhythm of her lullaby.
But not Eric.
He heard her. Every note. Every ache and promise stitched into the melody. And gods, it was beautiful—achingly, heartbreakingly beautiful. The sound of it pierced his soul with memories: of her smile curled against his chest, of her hand twining with his under candlelight, of her body arching against his in the dark.
But it did not drown him.
Because she could not drown him.
His heart had already chosen. She had no power tocompel him, not like this, not with her song. She’d told him the truth; her voice had no sway over a soul mate.
At first, Eric thought her voice was meant for the men on the liner. He thought she'd charm them, sway their hands, ease the fear in their fingers that made them drop their weapons.
But they didn’t stop. They aimed. They fired. And she ducked.
The notes of her song didn’t rise in desperation, didn’t shift into commands meant for men. No—her voice deepened, swelled like the belly of a wave. The tenor of it was meant for something older than the bones of ships. She wasn’t singing to the soldiers. She was singing to the kraken.
A massive tentacle had already slammed across the liner’s hull, tearing through wood and sending a shower of splinters into the air. The liner listed hard, groaning like a beast, wounded and confused. Before the next strike could land—before the kraken could finish what it started—Ursula’s voice pierced the chaos.
The kraken hesitated. Its great eye—black and rimmed in bioluminescent fire—blinked once. Another note rang out, high and trembling. The tentacle withdrew.
Like a beast coaxed back to sleep, it began to sink. Tentacles folded in on themselves as the massive bodydisappeared into the deep. The sea stirred, a churning belly slowly quieting.
Eric’s hand gripped the ship’s railing as though it were the only thing anchoring him to the world. She’d done it. She’d saved them.
But the harpoons still flew.
The men on the liner saw her tail, not her crown. They didn’t see a queen. Their queen.
Eric was about to jump—screw swimming, screw pride, screw everything—he was going in after her, even if it killed him.
The sea split with a thunderclap of foam and light. Triton rose like a storm given form. Golden armor dripped seaweed and wrath. His trident burned with light, raised high, casting eerie shadows across the deck of the houseboat. Mermen surrounded him in tight formation, eyes glowing with magic, spears poised to strike.
Eric did not back down. He stood tall, chest heaving, sea spray clinging to his cloak and soaking through his shirt. His hand gripped the hilt of the dagger at his belt in readiness.
"We will leave the sea witch to you and your men's disposal." Triton stepped forward, water rolling off him in rivulets. “The treaty stands on the marriage of our kingdoms. I will find my daughter. I’ll make this right.”
“I don’t want your daughter. I want your sister.”
“I'll have her fin to you on a platter in moments.”
“You touch a scale on my wife's tail and I will gut you.”
A flicker of disbelief passed over Triton’s face. His grip on the trident shifted. The mermen behind him shifted, uncertainty rippling through their ranks.
“You want…” Triton pointed a webbed thumb over his shoulder toward the battle in the waters. "… her?"
“Get me to her before my men spear her and I'll offer you a concession. No taxes on sea goods sold in our markets for the next two years.”
Triton tilted his head as though he was having trouble seeing Eric. “You would offer this,” he said carefully, “for her?”
“She’s my queen.”
“Clearly, you’re under her siren's call.”
“Or she's my true love and her call won't work on me. Either way, you can make an ally of me or an enemy. But you decide now.”
Triton’s gaze lingered on him, sharp and weighing. Then he exhaled, the fury in his shoulders softening ever so slightly. He looked at Eric like he'd just swindled him at cards.
