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He came a step closer, and she could feel the coldness radiating from his smooth skin, his coiled energy.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, although she was afraid she did.

“It will be easier for me to show you, but you have to trust me.” Gesturing to the hungry water beyond, he reached for her

hand, but she drew back.

She gave a vigorous shake of her head. “Fenna died in the water when we were children—I watched her walk right in, never to

emerge again.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. So sorry. I never wanted for that to happen, but—”

The blanket slipped from her shoulders as she bolted to her feet. “What do you mean you ‘know’? What are you sorry for?”

“Waves above us,” he cursed. He was all but handing her his heaviest sin, the reason she should hate him above all others.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “I misspoke. Will you please come with me?”

She crossed her arms, glaring at him from under her bedraggled gold tresses. When he realized that she wasn’t going to sit,

he tried again. “My mother is Maren, queen of the Water Kingdom.” He paused. “How much do you know about the bargain?”

Her lips were parted, her eyes round and disbelieving. “What bargain? What are you talking about?”

He stared back at her. She didn’t know. Did the Dutch not teach their children about how it came that the lowlands were taken?

Then again, she didn’t know of magic and the Old Ones, so how would she have understood the bargain?

He resigned himself to sitting on the ground, just out of reach of the fire’s warmth. This would take a while. “One hundred

years ago, the herring fisheries collapsed, whales beached, dikes broke. All that which made the Dutch Republic prosperous

and the envy of her neighbors began to diminish.” He chanced a look at Clara, wished that he was in the water where he did

not have to worry about his form. But he had to gain her trust first, so he went on. “The burghers and other important men,

they knew that their wealth was not a gift from God, nor a reflection of lives lived in piety. They beat back the water into

submission, claiming more and more land, plundering her bounty of fish and whales. Oh, there were floods of course. And the

basilisks my mother set loose in Utrecht. But for the most part she let the men play at their games. For they had struck a

bargain and she knew that everything would come back to her eventually.”

“What bargain?” Clara asked again, this time in a whisper.

Maurits would not meet her eye, and her stomach dropped. “My mother agreed to cede the lowlands to the Dutch, restore the fisheries, in exchange for seven hundred of their children.”

The blood in Clara’s veins went cold, colder, she was sure, than even Maurits. “And they—and they agreed to those terms?”

He nodded. “Yes, they did.”

Clara pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, desperate for something real to hold on to, something to shield her.

That day with the moss woman, or whatever it had been—hadn’t she known then that there was more to the world than just what

she had been taught? And her parents—they had knowingly entered a bargain, let children die so that they could be prosperous.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Maurits said, cutting into her runaway thoughts.

“I very much doubt you could even begin to comprehend what I’m thinking,” she said coldly. Clara held her head in her hands.

“I don’t believe it,” she murmured. “It’s not true. It can’t be.” She looked up at him. “Fenna,” she said. “Fenna was one

of the poor children that was taken as payment.”

He could not deny it, so he said nothing. He had thought that nothing could hurt him after his mother’s punishment, but the

way Clara was looking at him with such betrayal made him feel as if he were the worst villain in the world.

“Why are you here?” She gestured around them at the little hill, her voice cracking with misery. “Why did you save me?”

Water was creeping ever closer, turning the small hill into an island. They had little time, perhaps an hour at most, but

Maurits knew that she would not move so long as he had not told her everything.

“My mother tasked me with retrieving you.”

“The day you came to the kitchen...” She trailed off, her words small in the darkness. “You meant to take me.”

He gave a tight nod. “Yes.”

“And the following encounters?”

This was harder to answer. “I should have left you alone, Clara, but I couldn’t. Ever since I saw you on the beach, looking

out over the sea with such longing, I have not been able to go a moment without wanting you. I am tortured by thoughts of

having to go through life without you. I have nothing to offer you but heartache, but all that is mine would be yours as well.

You must believe me that I love you, and will never let you come to harm.”

He hadn’t meant to declare himself, and certainly not in such circumstances. Nonetheless, he let the words hang in the cold

air, afraid to breathe. Perhaps he had misjudged her, and she would forgive him after all. What if she did truly love him,

and had only been waiting for him to make the first entreaty?

Her face contorted as the silence dragged on, and with a sickening realization, he saw it what for what it was: horror. She

was horrified of him, his confession, or both. Waves above, what had he been thinking? She had just lost her parents, her

husband, and now the man who had been instrumental in their demise was offering her his heart.

But he couldn’t stop himself; she deserved to know. “I made a deal with my mother: the chance to come on land, in exchange

for you.”

“For me?”

“She wanted you. She wanted all those little children that were promised to her, loved each of them in their own way. She

sees you when you walk near the canal, wants you. And she sent me to deliver you to her.”

“But... But I’m not even a child anymore! What could she possibly want from me?”

“It’s not what she wants from you. You were part of the bargain struck with the burghers all those years ago, before you were even born.

Seven hundred souls she was told she could take.

She wants her due. She wants the men of the Republic to feel the pain, the loss, that she felt when she was pushed back and dammed up, drained. ”

“And what of the women of the lowlands! Surely she is a mother herself, she could not wish to inflict such pain and loss on

so many other mothers.” Clara glared off into the distance, shivering.

“You think my mother cruel,” he said, his hope of bringing Clara around dwindling as he spoke, “bent on destruction and fulfilling

petty bargains.”

“Well, isn’t she?”

Maurits shook his head. “She has seen the land built and built with no regard for the life or world beyond that of humans.”

“And her bargains struck for children?”

Maurits gave her a patient look. “She didn’t actually want them, not at first.”

“But... what do you mean?”

“It was a ploy, a bluff. She only put forth those terms because she assumed that the burghers would never agree to such outrageous

demands. She never anticipated actually having to call the debt in.” Seeing Clara’s face and guessing her next question, he

went on. “She took the children so that it would be known that there would be consequences. If the men of the Republic were

going to be so cavalier with the lives of children, then they could not be trusted to act as stewards of the land.”

Clara let out a little huff. Whatever patience and trust she had for him was thinning fast, and he still had not told her

the truth about Fenna, or Pim.

The fire grew low as dampness crept in, and soon they would be without warmth or light. Not an issue for him, but potentially

deadly for Clara. “We should go,” he said softly.

She was watching the tendril of smoke tapering off into the dark.

“Where?” Her gaze remained fixed on the dying flame.

“The water? I don’t trust you for one moment, and I don’t care if your mother is the queen of Spain herself—I’m not going in the water.

Besides, wouldn’t that be the first place she would look? Couldn’t she see us there?”

Rain was coming down harder now, the ground beneath his feet turning thick with mud. “There are two options,” he said. “One,

we keep seeking dry land, and she follows us, flooding everything and everyone in her way.” He didn’t add that this option

would eventually dry him out, kill him. “Or two, you trust me that I know my mother and that there are ways I can keep you

safe below the surface.”

Still, she would not stand. All that was left of the fire was a fizzling wet pile of sticks and dark smoke. She whispered

something, so quiet that he had to come crouch beside her to hear her.

Her lips quivered like a child’s. “I want Pim.”

His heart nearly broke then. She didn’t resist when he lifted her. Her skin, which was usually warm and soft as silk, was

cold and puckered from the wet. Even so, as he held her against his chest, he could feel the steady thrum of her heartbeat.

He didn’t know what awaited them beneath the surface; his mother might see fit to break her word and revoke his land form.

She might send her water maidens to sing beautiful songs and draw him and Clara apart. But whatever trials might come, he

would keep the shivering young woman in his arms safe. He vowed it with every fiber of his being.

The water was at her chin when Maurits stopped. His breath was cold against her cheek, and she could feel his hesitation in

whatever he was about to say. “You don’t trust me,” he said. “I know that. But you must allow me to do this one thing. It

will allow you to breathe beneath the water.”

Her body ached with the cold, and her mind was growing dim and unfocused.

Even if she had been able to resist, she was inclined to let him do what he would.

There was a question in his eyes, and she thought that perhaps he really did intend to help her.

With the smallest nod, she let him know that she would not fight whatever it was he meant to do.

Perhaps he would drown her, claim her for the water after all.

And would that really be so terrible? What was left for her on the land that she had once called home?

But he did not plunge her into the water. Instead, his grip tightened on her, his fingers gentle and firm, as he lowered his

lips down to meet hers. Her breath caught. Whatever hazy thoughts had been swirling through her mind ceased as her senses

were caught up in the kiss. At first, it was no more than the gentlest brush of cold lips against cold lips. Despite her shock,

a flicker of warmth ignited deep within her, slowly spreading up her spine and flooding her body. He was dangerous, and a

liar. He was also possibly mad—what else could explain the fantastic story that he had just told her? But she was too tired

to fight, and some wretched part of her, deep down, was grateful, excited even, for the feel of his lips on hers. She had

craved this for so long, and it was impossible to deny her body that for which it was crying out.

The kiss deepened, and her mouth opened, inviting him in despite her misgivings, all the while water swirling about them,

lacing the pleasure with icy cold reality.

Could Clara feel that he was giving her more than just the breath that would sustain her in the Water Kingdom?

Could she feel that he was pouring his very soul and heart and every ounce of love he had to give?

This was not supposed to be a romantic gesture, but he felt his body responding to her supple form in his arms. How he had dreamed of this moment when he had been stuck in his dog form, and long before then too, if he was being honest with himself.

All his frustration was given release now.

A soft moan escaped her and he deepened the kiss, greedy for every bit of her.

For all that he had taken from her, he could give her this at least. Who knew what would face them in the water, and this might be the last time either of them had even the smallest bit of pleasure.

He was doing it for her, he told himself.

Then, as if coming to her senses, she broke the kiss, staring up at him in the dark. A look of horror spread over her, as

if she could see him for the monster he was. Everyone she knew was dead, and he was exploring the depths of her willingness,

exploiting the haze of her grief. He could tell himself that it was for her benefit all he wanted, but it was a selfish lie.

In the time it took him to come to this realization, she twisted away in a desperate bid to escape. But the water was high

and the blankets were heavy, and he easily caught her by the wrist, tugging her back to him. She glared at him, struggling

in his grasp, and he felt every inch the evil creature she no doubt knew him to be.

“Come,” he said gruffly, as if she had any say in the matter. “We’ll go in now.”