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He blew out a breath and opened his eyes.

Soon he would have one in his hands: a Sirenidae who would answer for what her people had done.

He’d get the answers he sought.

Even if it meant he ended up a widower.

Waitingon the docks was excruciating.

Not because of the needle-like ocean spray or the winds that howled but because he’d meet his new bride soon.

Or new enemy.

He squinted at the sails of the Methian flagship in the distance.

Soon enough, he’d meet her.

“Don’t worry, my son. She’s your perfect match,” his mother said softly.

He nodded but said nothing.

What a perfect match looked like, Raz didn’t know.

All that mattered was that he needed a queen, a cure, and answers about the latest attack, not a friend or wife.

Someone to fill the position and bring prosperity to Methi.

Liar.

Raz brushed the thought away. All he needed to do was focus on her dowry. The Sirenidae king had been generous with the sum. The dowry would keep Methi running for several lifetimes even if the whole kingdom did nothing but lay around and drink.

It was everything he wanted.

Then why did he feel so hollow?So bitter?

Because you’re alone.

A grunt escaped him.

His mother arched a brow. “Something on your mind?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Mm-hmm.” The dowager queen pulled her cloak tighter around her figure. “I’ll let that lie go.”

Raziel shot a smile at his mum. She’d always known him best.

The ship drew closer and with it, the ire of the storm.

The dark skies broke open, and water rushed from the heavens, drenching their party in seconds. He wiped the rain from his eyes, and his breath seized when he spotted a lone figure standing at the bow of the ship. Her unusually short silver hair just touched her pale bare shoulders. He could almost feel her magenta gaze running over him, appraising.

She was tall for a woman. Willowy but strong as she held the railing while the rain, spray, and wind tore at her. She didn’t move, almost as if she couldn’t look away from him.

“Are you ready?” his mother asked.

“I was ready the moment I signed the marriage certificate.” He’d made his choice weeks ago and hadn’t wavered. This was the right decision. For his people. For the future.

The dowager queen snorted. “Marriage written on a scroll is something completely different than marriage in and of itself.” She scanned his face and frowned. “Stars above, son, paste a smile on your face. You look like you’re attending a funeral.”