It’s true. It would. But it wouldn’t kill them.
“There’s no king to approve payment for their hard work anyway,” I say, wincing. “What if we remove the drifting mines within the strait? Make it safe enough for them to sail to finish the season? They’ll be able to catch enough to survive winter and the succession plan.”
Will frowns much like he did on the balcony, working through my line of thought. His eyes flash to mine, and his face scrunches a little. “You’re not just a mermaid; you have access to royalty, don’t you?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I look to the group. “If we’re going to take advantage of the chaos, we must work fast.”
One by one, they nod.
Good.
I pull up a chair and take a seat, the others following suit.
Everyone glances to me. But this is not my plan. I look across the table to Katrine.
“Tell me everything you know about the production of U-boats.”
20
Evie
THE WISH THAT THINGS HAD GONE DIFFERENTLY FORAlia presses on my lungs, heavy and leaden.
I can’t live with regrets, not with all the years I may have left. But I do wish I’d given the magic something besides her voice. I had my reasons, but now I can’t help but play the whole thing over again in my mind. If I’d done something differently, maybe the magic would’ve been kinder.
For all the grief and guilt hanging hooks in my chest, the sea king has fire and anger. It’s been building all day, this gurgling, unstable pressure from him—a volcano threatening to erupt. It sits like a slow-moving storm on the horizon, warm, waiting, violent. All his mercurial power and the magic that goes with it teeters on the cusp of disaster.
I’ve been expecting the sea king and his anger to pay me another visit.
It worries me more than anything that he hasn’t.
Because if he’s not threatening me, he’s threatening much worse.
And so, I lean over my cauldron and call to my missing piece.
“Minn moli, líta.”
The swirling murk within the pot bursts into a bright, shining light. Eyes forever used to the shadows, I blink—I haven’t seen a blue like that since the final disastrous boat ride with Nik, Iker, and Annemette.
The effect is enough that I check the night above. The sky above my lair is most certainly black, pulled through with stars and a fat moon.
That peculiar blue radiance of the kingdom erases the night as much as it erases the darkness that comes with depth. The kingdom is a beacon under the waves—only the sea king’s magic can bring light.
Ensconced beneath the cerulean bubble, tens of thousands of merpeople mingle in a massive amphitheater fashioned of sea stone. An array of flowers of immeasurable elegance and color rings the very top level of the stadium in a vibrant rainbow. I can’t identify them from this distance away, but strangely, I can feel Alia’s magic in them.
“Each daughter has a magical gift reflected in her garden,” Anna says from over my shoulder, as if she knowsexactly what I’m thinking. “Alia’s was clearly the ability to make anything beautiful—and possibly to see the beauty in others.”
I feel deep in my bones that this is true.
“And Runa’s is the ability to grow difficult things,” I answer.
“Yes, and she also has the gift of properly handling difficult people—her father and yourself included.”
I laugh, though she’s not wrong. A lifetime ago I was far easier—and more eager—to please.
“What was your talent, reflected in your garden?” I ask, because I’m genuinely curious. When Anna grows quiet, I add, “Or maybe it’s best I reframe that question as—what was the talentthey told youwas yours?”
Now it’s Anna who laughs, but it’s so bitter it almost doesn’t qualify. “Luck. My garden was a bed of four-leaf clovers. It was only later that I realizedtheythought I was lucky to be there at all.”
