“We have approximately twenty-four hours,” I say as a start, though no one really needs a reminder. “Let’s finalize our plan and run through it.”
“Who put you in charge?” Sofie’s eyes flash though the rest of her is still, hunched back in her chair, her knees pulled to her chest.
“Yeah, who?” Agnata parrots, as expected.
“Lest you forget, it was Runa’s idea to expand our mission and destroy not just the U-boats but the whole operation,” Will says, from over by the rocking chair. He pulls a roll of paper out from behind it and returns to the table, eyes pinned on his cousin. “There’s no time to be petty about this, so let’s start.”
“It’s not pettiness, it’s about trust,” Sofie spits, not looking his way, only at me. “I want my ring back.” Her voice catches on the last syllable. Tears spark in a rush in her green eyes, and she lets them come as her words strike out, each one cutting. “You gave it to me like it was the least you could do, and then you stole it away like it was never mine. What is there to trust about that?” Her eyes narrow. “What do you need it for, Runa? What? So you can wear it around like some sick memento of the lifeyoutook?”
She wants to hurt me, but there’s nothing she can say that I don’t already feel. Her dagger stabs a wound that will never heal. I’m a murderer. Despite my intentions to save my sister, a man died. Good, bad, I don’t know. I don’t deny it. But she can’t have the ring. It could save more lives than she will ever know.
“I need it for a spell,” I say finally, so we can move on. We don’t have time for this.
“What spell?” Sofie pushes.
“She answered your question, Sofie. Drop it,” Will snaps, a vein I’ve never seen flickering down the middle of his forehead. He frowns it away, rolling the scroll of paper across the table—a map of the kingdom’s port city.
“I will not.” She sniffs like the komtesse she is, or at least was until suspicion fell at her feet.
“Sofie, the second those boats go up in a fireball, I will gladly buy you any damn ring you please. Now, let’s focus,” Will says calmly, more himself, but still with an air of authority that commands both respect and action. Determination solidifies in his eyes as he pins them on her handmaiden. “Agnata, where is the sale going to take place?”
Agnata glances at Sofie, who nods her okay. “A warehouse where they are fabricating and sheltering the boats.”
Will nods and glances my way. “They must assume the spies who infiltrated the castle are also looking for the U-boats.”
“They’re not wrong,” I deadpan. That earns me a smirk from Will.
“No, they’re not,” he agrees. “Agnata, the warehouse is located here, correct?” He points to a spot on the map not far from the docks.
Pencil in hand, Will circles the warehouse. It sits fat and heavy on a dead-end street shaped like a mushroom. Katrine draws a finger around the wide portion, telling usthat her oma had a house on that street long ago. There’d been three cottages there, all bulldozed in the name of industrial progress under the reign of Niklas’s father, who had the same name as his son and his father but had been colloquially referred to as King Bryn.
“What are the entrances and exits of this warehouse like? Is there more than one? Will they be guarded? What can we expect?” I ask, looking from the map to Agnata.
Her face is blank and unsure as she tugs at the ends of last night’s braid.
Will is drawing in a breath to ask the question in his own way when Sofie cuts him off with the first truly helpful thing she’s had to say all morning.
“I toured the warehouse with Father—it’s where they housed the prototype for him to inspect when we confirmed our engagement.”
Oh—oh.
Will shuffles the map on the table, pulling out a notebook, from which he rips a blank page. “Do you think you can draw it?”
Sofie takes the pencil, tentative. Then the paper. “Yes.”
As she draws, Will turns his attention back to the map and dots a meandering course from the building through the streets, picking the ones with the fewest shops before winding his way up to Lille Bjerg Pass.
“What about a water route?” I lean in and cut a course with my index finger from our likely position, through theØresund Strait and up to the beach just beyond the public one. “The mines are an obstacle, yes, but with the right magic, we might be able to navigate them and hit land while saving time and without being spotted overland.”
Will’s eyes light up. “Oh, how the world opens up when a mermaid teaches you the right spells.”
Sofie rolls her eyes. “Will, stop flattering her. Her head’s already big enough to float a zeppelin after teaching us how to burst into flames.”
A flush climbs Will’s cheeks. He still hasn’t shaved, and the combination is striking enough that I really need to stop looking.
We work until what’s left of the sun begins to settle again, the light shifting from slate to smoke. The rain returns, pattering against the windows, not as harsh as before, but still there. Maybe this time Father’s grown hungry, letting the magic cease long enough for a few bites of shark fin and a pull of hvidtøl from his secret stash.
As much as I fear what he may do, I don’t let myself think that the weather’s change is a sign that he’s growing weak, his ríkifjor serum rationed. Because of me. Will’s words from the night before snake through my mind.
