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I chuckle, relieved she didn’t catch me with my nose buried in her hair. “For what it’s worth, it’s strange for me too.”

“How so? You see me all the time.”

“Sure, but when I’m summoned, I’m usually not looking at you.” When my presence is called to her pendant, I try to find the source of her distress before reacting.

More often than not, I end up watching her hands move over old items collected from the bottom of the sea while she considers where they belong in her collection. “It’s more like I’m seeing the world through your point of view.” My mouth dips closer to her ear. “Plus, you’re normally not stepping on my feet.”

“Oh my goodness.” She removes her toes from my insteps and takes a step back, an awkward awareness wedging itself into the space she’s created.

“Ready to try walking on your own?” I ask, spinning her out of my grip before she can answer. “Yeah, you’ve got it. Hold your arms like this.”

She mimics my stance, throwing her arms out to her sides as she wobbles beside me. I lead her to the cliff at the edge of the cove and guide her along the rocky base of the bank. Once we reach the end on the curved shoreline, we turn back and start the path again.

On our fourth trek across the beach, she drops her hands by her hips and settles into an easy stride. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“You are.” I break away, jogging down to the water to fetch her bag from a rogue wave.

“My bag!” she exclaims. “I thought I lost it during the transformation.”

“I grabbed it, but you might want to tuck your things inside your dress.” I hold it up, watching the bumpy canvas shimmer in the rising sun. “Stingray leather is kind of conspicuous.”

She shuffles quickly through the sand and trips over her feet before she reaches me. “Damn it.”

She pushes herself back up and sticks her hand in the bag, pulling out a glass trinket. I recognize the doe figurine, but I look away as she slips it into her pocket.

A few years ago, Cordelia had plans to lure a pirate captain named Morgen down to the Altar of the Undine, but she developed a tender spot for her instead.

The pirate never seemed to notice how much the small tokens she contributed to her collection meant to her. One day she stopped sailing, and we never heard from her again.

Cordelia was crushed when she learned she’d taken a wife in Corstylia, but we don’t talk about that.

I reach inside the bag and wrap my fingers around a solid knife handle, lifting the blade. It’s sharp and unmarred by rust, made from the same oceanic steel as her necklace. “Is this the knife you were planning to kill me with?”

“What? Of course not!” Cordelia stops fidgeting with her pocket. “Why would you even think that?”

She’s a terrible liar. Fortunately, she’s had me to cover her tracks for her.

Until now, at least.

“Because you’re the daughter of my enemy, and logic suggests there’s a decent chance I’ll try to exact revenge on him by hurting you once I’m free.” I flip the lightweight blade between my fingers. “Only a fool would release me without a murderous backup plan, and you’re no fool, Cordelia.”

“You caught me.” She blushes again, the color on her high cheekbones giving her away. “But I was only going to do it if you tried to pull something.”

Satisfied, I turn around and point to the exposed skin beneath my folded wings. “If it comes down to that, make sure you aim right here.”

“I already know where to stab you.” She holds her hand out for the knife. “Now give it back.”

“Not yet.” I use the blade to cut a long strip from the extra fabric looped around my waist and drop one knee behind me, kneeling before her. “Put your foot here.” I pat my quad. “Now lift your dress for me.”

“I thought that was frowned upon,” she says, planting her foot.

“See, you’re learning.” I flash her a half-mocking grin. “But a weapon is always more useful if it’s kept hidden.”

Cordelia’s leg prickles with goosebumps as I tie the pliable material into a makeshift garter, securing the cold metal against her thigh. I finish it off with a knot and stand, handing her the strand of brown pearls from the bottom of her bag.

“There should be one more item in there,” she says, fastening the hook clasp behind her neck and tucking her pendant beneath the collar of her dress.

My hand bumps against a round glass object, and I hold it up between two fingers. “What is this?”