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Maurits watched her go, the pale blue silk of her dress flashing among the leaves, the lingering scent of flowers the only

trace that she had ever shared the intimate space with him. He let out a curse, startling the magpies and sparrows out of

the trees. His mother was going to be furious that he’d failed, but he couldn’t seem to muster any remorse. All he felt was

a sort of restlessness deep in his chest. Though, maybe that was only on account of his being on land.

Sighing, he pushed the boat off from the shore and let himself drift down the canal. He was in no hurry to return home, but

neither could he bring himself to stay in the copse. Soon enough night would come stealing over the marshy fens, and he would

have no choice in the matter.

He closed his eyes as the boat drifted past endless fields and rows of poplar trees, and he let the weak sun warm him. He

could still see her upturned face, the sly smile and faint blush that spread across it when she’d realized she’d been found

out. He’d known what she would look like—he’d been watching her for months now, after all—but he hadn’t expected that she

would be so... so warm, so alive. He certainly hadn’t expected that the touch of her hand would send heat racing through

his body, or that her unguarded curiosity in him would make him feel as if he had been born anew.

“Enjoying your day?”

The cool voice jolted him from his reverie, and Maurits sat up, disrupting the oar.

“Mother was wondering where you were, and if you had the girl.”

Maurits didn’t need to see Thade to know that his younger brother would be wearing his usual disapproving grimace. “Can’t

a man drift in peace?” Maurits said, lying back down in the boat and closing his eyes.

The boat rocked as his brother hefted himself up inside. “No, he can’t, not when he was entrusted with a commission from the

good queen herself.” Thade paused, presumably to gain his land legs. “And you’re not a man.”

Maurits let out a snort. “Perhaps you’d like to do Mother’s bidding, then,” he said, though as soon as the words left his

mouth, he regretted them. He didn’t like the idea of his brother taking Clara, plucking her from the land and dragging her

down into the water.

“You know that it must be you,” Thade said, his voice bitter as kelp. “As next in line for the throne, she wants you to handle

these affairs. She has no use for me.”

And yet you slaver over her like a dog, as if she might change her mind , Maurits thought. Finally opening his eyes, he regarded his brother. On land, he did not look much different than Maurits.

His hair was a little darker, his shoulders narrower, but he was tall and well-built, with their mother’s sharp eyes.

Sighing, he propped himself up. “What does it matter if I bring her the girl or not? It will not quench Mother’s need for

reprisal, and I daresay the men will not change their ways.”

Thade looked at him, incredulous. “Because they must be punished!” he exclaimed, his gray eyes flashing. “They have broken

their word again and again, and grow more prosperous while draining our kingdom of land and resources.”

“You sound like Mother,” Maurits said, growing bored with this familiar line of conversation.

Thade ignored him. “So, where is the girl now?”

Maurits hitched one shoulder in a lazy shrug. It didn’t fool his brother. “Let me guess—rather than just doing as you were

told and taking her, you played some ridiculous part with costumes and falsehoods. You can never let an opportunity for playing

man pass by, can you?”

“Men dine on cheese and pastries and gaze at miraculous paintings. Men map the cosmos and explore the world. So no, I cannot

let an opportunity to be a man pass me by, even if it is only for a morning.”

Thade’s power was substantial. He had never missed a training session and could shift forms easily, call on magic that Maurits

barely understood. Maurits knew that there was nothing stopping him from honing his own abilities, but he would rather be

on land partaking in the delights of human life. What little power he did possess, he used for selfish reasons, like prolonging

his land form that his mother gifted him the week of every full moon.

“Men are shortsighted and would rather kill their fellow creatures than live in harmony with them. They are barbarians and

nothing more.” Thade paused. “What name did you give her?”

“Maurits de Vis.”

“Maurits the Fish? The fish at least makes sense, but waves above us, where did you get ‘Maurits’ from?”

“It’s the name of the late crown prince of Orange,” Maurits said, indignant. He had always admired the brilliant Dutch prince,

and had been pleased with the natural flow of the name.

“Your own princely name is not good enough for you?”

“My own princely name is not pronounceable by humans,” he said wistfully. He’d thrilled at hearing Clara say his name, and

only wished that it had been his real name. Clara. He mouthed the word over and over, delighting in the sound it made, like water running over smooth stones. Clara Clara Clara. Thade and Evi had simple names that slipped easily off the tongues of humans. But not him. No, he had been saddled with a

name as old and ridiculous as the expectations placed on him as a crown prince.

He looked up to find Thade studying him with clear distaste. “You’ll never be a man.”

“You’ll never be crown prince,” Maurits shot back, though the words tasted bitter in his mouth, an uncalled-for blow.

But Thade bore it magnanimously. “And neither of us can ever be Evi,” he said morosely. Maurits had to agree with him, they

neither of them would ever be able to hold the same affection in their mother’s heart as her daughter had.

They sat in silence, lost in thought about the sister that had come before them. He had been little more than a whelp when

Evi had died, had barely even understood what death was. As eldest, it was Evi who had been destined for the throne, groomed

for it. And what a queen she would have been, with her regal bearing and kind eyes, her luminous red hair. She’d always had

a kind word for her little brother, always was diplomatic and virtuous. If Evi was still alive, would his mother still be

so bitterly bent on revenge?

“I won’t tell Mother,” Thade finally said quietly. “But you must do her bidding. If you don’t, she will take matters into

her own hands, and she will not be so gentle.”

Maurits didn’t say anything, but his brother’s words had found their mark. He had seen his mother’s ruthlessness firsthand,

and the all-consuming rage that inflamed her.