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It seemed that Thade was taking no chances this time.

After the disaster of a trial, Maurits was roughly escorted to a chamber deep within the castle itself. He would be kept near

Thade so that there was no chance of him meeting with Neese—or anyone else who might aid him, for that matter. Thade had underestimated

Clara, and perhaps the king was beginning to worry that Maurits would likewise slip from his grasp.

Where was Neese, anyway? He had not seen her since her last visit when he had been imprisoned, and had been surprised that she had not

been in the audience of the trial. It would take more than a few guards to keep her away, and he wondered if she would be

able to find him here of all places. The basilisks would know where he was, as they always seemed to know everything that

went on in the kingdom. They would fulfill their pledged and send Neese to him. They had to.

While he waited for her, Maurits allowed himself to get comfortable.

There were worse places to be imprisoned than his childhood room, he supposed.

He remembered playing in this chamber as a child with Evi and Thade.

They had been thick as thieves then, always in some sort of trouble with the palace guards as they raced through the halls, pretending they were sharks on the hunt.

It was always Thade who would eventually grow nervous and tattle on them to their mother, but even he could not resist the thrill of the chase for a little while first. Maurits ran his finger over one of the little shells Evi had carved in the stone.

She had been a good artist. She had been a good sister.

It was funny how he and Thade had grown distant after her death.

Shouldn’t grief have brought them closer together?

Instead, their memories had become a wedge, driven them further and further apart.

Beyond the stone walls, he could hear the chilling call of the dire whale, reminding him that there was no escape, no hope.

He could feel himself slipping into melancholy. The land had always been a balm for the dark thoughts that consumed him in

the water. This was his home; how was it possible that it could engender such sorrow in him? But homes are more than just

the good memories and the comforts; they are also the difficult times, the trials that we face with our loved ones. He supposed

Neese was right. He had used his human form to run away from his problems. And now that it was denied to him, he had not the

slightest idea how to survive.

Clara would have helped him forget his troubles. Even when she was under the water, angry and hurt with him, he had felt stronger

just for having her near him. He could face Thade, his mother, even the dire whale, if only Clara was nearby. He had always

known her to be beautiful, to be capable of enchanting him completely with just a look slanted from her guileless brown eyes.

But when she had stood her ground at the trial and spoken... she had been magnificent. He wanted to take care of her, to

shield her from Thade’s vengeance, but he was beginning to suspect that she didn’t need his protection. She probably never

had. What had she said that time when they had been walking by the canal? She only needed testing? Well, she had been tested,

and she had come away stronger and even more beautiful for it.

The more wistful and melancholy his thoughts grew, the more time slowed. The kingdom didn’t need him. Neese didn’t need him,

and Clara certainly didn’t need him.

Clara might not need him as a protector, but he did owe her a debt. He owed her several debts, if he were being honest with himself. He had lied to her and deceived her time and again. And with Thade threatening to send a new flood, she was in danger, as well as the rest of the land folk.

He roused himself from his melancholic stupor, gave himself a few brisk words of reproach, followed by encouragement. He had

only been here for two days, but it would seem he was losing his mind.

Thade might have taken Maurits’s meager powers, but that did not make him powerless. Waves above, he was young and strong,

and while he was shackled, it was nothing compared to the self-pity he had been allowing himself to wallow in.

His brother had underestimated Clara, and it was likely his brother had underestimated him as well. Thade wouldn’t be sitting

on the throne with their mother a prisoner and Maurits stripped of his voice if he’d thought Maurits capable of fighting back.

So on the third day of imprisonment, Maurits began to do what he should have been doing years ago.

He trained.

Every night, long after the last guard had looked in and was satisfied that the defunct prince was sound asleep, he tested

what few powers he had left.

Thade had been clumsy, though Maurits understood why. Maurits had never taken his training seriously, even as a young princeling

being groomed for the throne. Swimming, rationing his breath, fighting... these were all things that he learned as needed.

But he had never delved deeper into the gifts that all merfolk—especially those of royal blood—possessed, such as shifting

his form, reaching into another’s mind to see their thoughts, bending the water to his whim.

Now he forced himself to regain the lost time. Thade had not touched the spark of power that rested deep within his heart, for Thade had simply assumed that it was no longer there. But Maurits nursed it now, every night forcing himself to focus through the pain of flexing an unused muscle.

Legs had been his mother’s gift, a blessing that lasted for seven days and seven nights when the moon was full. The first

time he had tested his land legs he had been like a colt, wobbly and unused to the feel of solid ground beneath him. The movement

of putting weight on his legs had left him covered in bruises and scrapes by the time he could walk from the water’s edge

to the trees. But it had only been a matter of practice, and once he had done it, it came easier and easier to him each time.

Now he was beginning the process all over again, only this time in the confines of his small chamber and with no soft grass

to soften his inevitable falls. This time it was his own stubborn determination that granted him the power to try, and not

his mother’s charity.

On the third day he was able to soften his bonds enough to break them. On the fifth day, shift his form to a small fish for

just a few moments of time. And on the seventh day, he put a barrier about his mind, and swam undetected from the walls of

the palace.

But there was no magic strong enough to fool a dire whale. He had not gotten to the outer gates of the palace, his fish form

melting away, when he felt a vibration running through his body, the light from the surface blotted out.

Every child of the Water Kingdom knew which creatures to fear, which deep, dark crevices to avoid if they didn’t want to be

snatched by a toothy mouth. Maurits knew the hair-raising sensation of being followed by something that wanted him for supper.

But never had he felt so small, so vulnerable as he did now, finding himself the sole object of the dire whale’s attention.

The gigantic creature descended until it was eye to eye with him. And then the dire whale’s great jaw creaked open.