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We stood that way for longer than was proper, but suddenly, I did not care about propriety. Or my duties. Or even hiding, something I’d gotten very good at doing these past years.

“I am stronger than her,” I murmured.

It was treason to speak the words aloud and not challenge her. Thalassarian law, as with the other clans, was simple. The most powerful among its people was crowned king or queen. It had been so since the first days of Elydor, before the clans even existed.

“I know,” he said. “I believe Caelum wanted me to see it for myself.”

Reluctantly, I stepped back, inadvertently looking at his lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. As if we needed that further complication.

“He wants me to challenge her.”

“As you should. Is that not the main purpose of your Festival of Tides? One which it seems I will witness, as your queen denied my request but agreed to reconsider, giving me her answer on the day of your festival.”

“Unfortunately, I expected as much. And aye, that is the purpose of the Festival of Tides,” I acknowledged. “But we’ve gone for so long without a challenge to the queen…”

Rowan’s gaze was shrewd. “The challenge is its primary purpose.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“Do you think she suspects?”

“That,” I admitted, “is an excellent question. I do not believe so but she knows there is someone more powerful courtesy of the Tidal Pearl.”

Little by little, each clan’s key artifact becomes less amplifying, a sign to the current ruler one has been born that will replace them.

“Will you?”

“Challenge her?”

I shook my head. “I am no queen.”

“Nerys, if you are truly more powerful than Lirael?—”

“I should have said, I believe I am more powerful. None can know for certain without a direct test of our skills. If I were to challenge her, and lose… I cannot risk it. Maybe in the future, but not now.” Not giving him a chance to argue, which I was certain he was about to do, I moved toward the water. “Let me show you something.”

I stepped to the water’s edge, the cool spray of the sea misting my face as I extended my hand. Kneeling, my palm hovering just above the surface, I closed my eyes. The water stilled, unnaturally calm, as though the ocean was holding its breath.

A faint glow spread from my fingertips and the water responded, rippling outward in delicate, synchronized patterns: circles, spirals, and symbols. Slowly, the designs rose from the sea, droplets forming into glistening sculptures that danced in the air.

I didn’t stop yet.

With a whispered command, the sculptures transformed into living images: a pod of dolphins leaping joyously, a towering wave frozen mid-crash, and finally, a majestic figure cloaked in flowing robes, her features too ethereal to belong to any mortal.

“Thalassa,” he breathed, recognizing the image of the Eternal.

I stood. “This is not just water. It is memory; the sea holds fragments of what it’s witnessed. Few of us can summon it, and even fewer can shape it,” I added, in case Rowan was not clear about the meaning of this demonstration. “I should not have witnessed their last moments, but was unable to stop myself. Nor is it a “gift” I wish to share with anyone, its burden too great to bear.”

“Then let me bear it with you.”

11

ROWAN

I sat up in bed, an odd sensation waking me. It was as if I could feel others’ emotions, a tangled web of them, even though I was alone. How could I be sensing emotion when there was no one around? My bedchamber was still dark, but I made a quick sweep of the room, confirming that I was alone. Standing back in front of the window, as the sky began to slowly lighten, a figure seemed to take shape. Impossibly, it was well out into the sea, as if standing on the water.

The figure was female. As she waved her arms, water rose and fell in a delicate dance that felt important, somehow. The figure spun toward me.

Nerys.