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Ari tugged a cowl over his head, frowning as he secured the heirloom blade to his waist. “Keep your steps as they ought to be, and I will not lose you.”

“We need to go.” Kase tilted his head to the sky. “Much longer and they’ll be readying to make their moves. Get him isolated, Gunnar. Then, Wraith, do what you must do. This ends today.”

Calista stood a few paces away from the others. The royals had bid their farewells if their hearts were leaving.

I had not.

Scrutiny, other gazes, other folk, for the first time did not cross my mind when I went to Calista Ode. I trapped her face in my palms and kissed her. Long, deep, a lasting sort of kiss that I hoped would bring her back to me soon.

Her lips trembled when she pulled back. “I don’t need to threaten bodily harm to make sure you return to me, do I?”

I grinned. “Threaten you’ll never touch my body again and this will be over in the next clock toll.”

She gave me another quick kiss. “I love you. Bring us to him, Silas. I’d like to get on living our last lifetime together.”

“Consider it done, Little Rose.”

I kissed her cheek, and slowly released her hands before returning to Gunnar. What was left of him anyway. The only recognizable part of the thieving prince was the sharp amber of his eyes. Soon enough, that began to fade to the stormy red of the sea folk.

Gunnar’s rounded ears were now sharply pointed. His hair was longer and knotted at the base of his neck, and silver rings were hooped in the lobes of his ears.

Ari slunk into the shadows as Gunnar tied my wrists in a thick rope that looked a great deal like the rigs on their ships.

“Shall we, Wraith?”

I nodded and fell into step behind Gunnar Strom, his new captive.

On the edge of the sea fae camp, we paused. Gunnar took a flacon of ale from off his belt and took a long gulp. Twenty paces away, Ari should’ve been perched, keeping watch. More than most of us, Ari and Saga deserved to have this nightmare end. I was determined to see it done.

“Let’s go,” Gunnar said gruffly.

I kept my head down, tethered arms outstretched, and stumbled behind Gunnar as we crossed the fading seidr line into the tents of the sea fae.

“Oi!” Gunnar shouted to a trio of men who stood around a small fire pit, smoking paper-rolled herbs. “Where’s the king? Look what I snagged. Drunk off his ass and stumbling about. These earth sods heal with the harsh ale.”

Gunnar barked a laugh and yanked on the rope, causing me to fumble on my feet.

The sea fae converged on us, one had a curved blade leveled at Gunnar’s throat. “What House?”

What the hells did that mean?

Gunnar laughed again and swatted the sword away. “Go get the king and the earth fae battle lord. Don’t hesitate.”

Weight added to the air, a fleeing moment, but Gunnar’s mesmer gathered swiftly. Another breath and the three sea fae blinked, their eyes glassy and disoriented. They turned around and guided us toward the center of the camp. Perhaps what unnerved me the most were not the differences between us and the sea fae—but the similarities.

They sat in groups. Friends? Family? Men held horns and tin cups of steaming drinks. Sea fae looked worn and weary much like us.

In truth, they were fighting because they were led here to fight, to avenge a royal. Could they be horribly blamed for the act? Should any of our royals ever be snatched, I had few doubts every damn realm would rise up to save them or avenge them.

We emerged from between two tents.

“King Erik,” said one of the men in front of us.

The lanky boy turned around, a tin mug in his grip. His eyes flashed in surprise at the sight of me, followed promptly by a wash of frustration. I fought the urge to grin. It made me more certain he’d been behind the chaos that knocked Davorin away from me.

Not out of the kindness of his shriveled sea fae heart. If I had to guess, I’d say Erik Bloodsinger was raised to cherish the notion of clearing debts.

I’d let the other boy live, after all.