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Her welcome back to Thade’s palace had not been a gentle one.

As soon as the basilisks had escorted her and left her at the palace door, she’d been snatched up by guards and roughly brought

back to the same small chamber in which she’d been sent before. This time there was no visit from Neese, no considerations

such as dinner with the king. There was only darkness, cold, and waiting.

The time was, by far, the worst. It gave her mind too much space to wander, too many paths to fruitlessly run down. Had she

made the right decision? Had she wasted her one life in a meaningless sacrifice? Perhaps there would be no trial. Perhaps

she had lost that chance when she had absconded the first time. Perhaps she would simply sit in this chamber until she died

of the darkness and the cold.

But with the time eventually came clarity. For the first time in her life, she had made a decision herself, one that did not

sit precariously on the axis of her own comfort and duty. If she died, then she died knowing that she had looked inside her

heart and tried to live according to its most hidden truths. There was some comfort in that.

As she curled into herself and tried to find sleep, her arms ached with emptiness.

She had never longed for her mother the way other children might when they needed comfort.

Helma perhaps, but even then, Clara had only wanted a sympathetic ear or a reassuring pat on the head.

No; now, in her darkest hour, when she felt small and alone, it was someone, not quite a man, not quite a creature, for whom she would have traded her life to have the chance to place her head against his chest and hear the steady beat of his heart.

“Supper.”

Maurits had barely eaten in the past seven days, but that did not stop his favorite guard from punctually delivering his meager

meal every day with a scowl. Today, Maurits had neither energy nor inclination to make a show of indifference to his cruel

treatment. He was in a foul mood, and he didn’t care if Thade’s men knew it. The basilisks had not fulfilled their pledge

to bring Neese, and despair had begun to creep in again.

But the guard made no move to leave. “You’re coming to the trial as a guest of the king,” he informed Maurits.

Maurits blinked, blood suddenly rushing through his body. I will see Clara, perhaps in a matter of moments. The realization brought some small measure of comfort, and the guard cut him a fierce scowl when Maurits was unable to keep

himself from grinning.

The blindfold the guard put on him was pointless. By the time they had joined the current, Maurits knew exactly where they

were. Perhaps the guard was aware of as much, and did not expect him to return to the palace. Perhaps it was simply to humiliate

him.

When they reached the palace, the guard yanked off the blindfold and Maurits blinked against the brightness that greeted him.

He had never liked the Hall of Justice. It was cold and sterile, all the barnacles and algae scrubbed off until the white

stone stood plain and unforgiving.

He found himself the subject of the watchful eyes of his people, hundreds of water folk crowded into the hall.

Some were probably simply curious to catch a glimpse of the disgraced prince who had not been seen in some time.

Others, loyal to his brother, glared at him.

Across the hall Thade sat on the marble seat, wearing a mask of cool indifference as some advisor Maurits didn’t recognize whispered something in his ear.

Maurits knew something of the justice of men. The humans had their own courts and laws, a system that was ravenous for punishment,

and that eagerly devoured wrongdoers for the chance to impart cruelty upon them. The Water Kingdom was different. There was

no judge, no jury, no tiers of punishments. Cases and grievances could be brought against anyone regardless of their station,

and anyone could speak in their own defense. While his mother was on the throne, she would also hear cases where parties wanted

her to specifically offer her judgment. In his lifetime, he could only remember two murder cases, and one hearing about a

kidnapping. The verdicts had been reformative rather than punitive for all of them.

In the time it took Maurits to shift the weight of his chafing manacles, she was led out, and all his thoughts and worries

flew out of his mind. His heart leapt when he saw Clara. He couldn’t help it. It was like the feeling of being on land too

long and needing water, then the blessed relief when he finally returned to the sea. Her face was his sustenance, his everything.

She hated him, wanted nothing to do with him, but he thanked the waves above for the chance, however brief, just to catch

a glimpse of her.

But his ecstasy was short-lived once he noticed how pale her skin was, how sunken her once-sparkling eyes had become. She

might have been able to survive under the water, but it was hardly the same as thriving. She needed sunlight and fresh fruits

and vegetables, meat. She was not made for this dark and cold world. Still, she was easily the most beautiful thing he had

ever laid eyes on as she was led to the center of the hall and made to stand facing the throne.

Maurits watched with his heart in his throat.

There was a call for silence, and then Thade rose and began to speak.

His speech was nothing if not predictable.

He lamented the loss of water, the greedy ways of the humans, the careless stewardship of the land.

He chastised the queen’s laxness in upholding the terms of the bargain, and took the opportunity to expound upon his inalienable ability and right to sit on the throne.

After taking a brief foray into the history of the herring fisheries, he then returned to the subject of the children, and how at last the final child would be brought to answer for the crimes of her parents.

What Maurits had not expected was the nodding of heads as his brother spoke, nor the thoughtful expressions. As he looked

about the great hall, he saw many folk who he had always thought were content under his mother’s rule, with the way of things.

The basilisks and Neese had both intimated that Thade was not trusted by the majority of the Water Kingdom; was it possible

that they were mistaken though? Thade seemed to be giving everyone exactly what they wanted. Maurits wouldn’t have thought

his people could be so intent on revenge, but perhaps again this was just the misguided result of his absence and how alienated

he had become from his kingdom.

Throughout this, Clara stood still as a statue, her pointed chin jutted up, not in defiance but something closer to pride.

He had once thought her spoiled and soft, and while he had never faulted her for it, he realized now how wrong he had been.

She had merely been untested.

Thade’s droning monologue was coming to a close. “There is little benefit in going through the motions of deciding guilt in

your case,” he said, almost bored. “And as you will not speak in your defense, I have no choice but to—”

“But I will speak,” Clara said, her voice clear as a church bell.

An excited murmur rippled through the hall.

Clara had her voice back. How did she have her voice?

Meanwhile, Maurits could see his own voice, glowing softly in the bubble that Thade kept on the arm of his throne.

His brother had wanted him to see it, wanted everyone to see it so they knew that the dethroned prince was truly hobbled.

At her words, Thade had bolted up from the throne, casting his gaze about, presumably for the bubble in which he had kept

her voice. “How—” he began.

Clara did not let him finish. “I beg you, your majesty, please listen to what I have to say. I do not take the opportunity

to speak lightly, and I do not dispute your just judgment. Only do not let me meet my fate without allowing me to speak on

behalf of my people first.”

The hall was completely still, silent. Maurits took some small pleasure in the streaks of color that touched his brother’s

cheeks, how completely off guard Clara had managed to take him.

Thade slowly lowered himself back down onto the throne. “I would weigh your next words very carefully,” was the icy response.

“For there is someone here whose life hangs in the balance.”