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A rden stood before the pearlized gates of the palace before they swung open for the day, her hands clenched in fists at her side.

Her chest felt as though a giant’s hand had wrapped around it and squeezed.

It had been squeezing for eighteen hours now, ever since Jade had disappeared under the waves and their bedraggled fleet of dinghies had made it back to shore.

She couldn’t imagine it would ever let up. Not until her sister was home again.

Beside her, Storm shifted from foot to foot, the glare he sent the gates willing them to open by the mere force of his need.

His hands were clenched too, but he stood with that steady, firm resolve that Papa had trained into him.

A statue, carved from granite. A statue, ready to spring to life at the first hint of danger.

Fury flared—there had been danger, yesterday, and he hadn’t stopped it.

Fury fizzled—he had been too far away. He had done what he could. And if he hadn’t diverted to keep Arden in the boat, she would have ended up as shark food, along with anyone else near her. She could have brought death to all her friends in one swift blow.

Her cousin loved Jade, yes. But he loved her too. She had to remind herself that she shouldn’t resent him for that.

Nausea rolled through her stomach. How had everything gone so terribly wrong in a few short hours? Jade’s kidnapping, the swarming sharks, the windstorm that had plagued them in fits and starts as they attempted to return to shore.

And then the second blow. Mama. Precious Mama, when she realized her daughter was gone.

She’d collapsed—just a faint, but she’d been on one of the raised decks.

She’d slumped over the railing, tumbled, and landed not on sand but on wood.

She’d been unconscious from the knock to her head ever since, as of when Papa sent Arden to the mainland an hour ago.

He hadn’t dared to leave Mama. Arden hadn’t wanted to either but someone had to report to the king.

The mer had come closer to land than they were supposed to. They had kidnapped Jade. It was a violation of their treaty, and one witnessed by no fewer than six Daryatlean citizens, unlike most kidnappings.

It was too bold. To take someone in the presence of witnesses, in daylight?

Far too bold. And bold was terrifying.

Bold could mean war.

Only that fear could have propelled her here, with no one but Storm beside her. Anything less would have kept Arden stubbornly at home, refusing to leave Mama’s side.

Refusing to face down the king for the first time without Papa pulling her physically forward.

The gates groaned and then began their slow swing inward. Arden caught her breath, held it, and pretended the sudden gust of wind had inspired her to squeeze her eyes shut for a moment.

Storm took her hand, gave her fingers a squeeze, and released it. “You have your father’s crystal?”

She nodded, even as she reached for the tenth time to the pouch at her waist where she’d slid his message before they’d shoved off.

He’d wanted her to come yesterday. With last night’s tide, as they’d originally planned.

It would be too crowded today, he’d said.

Too many guests arriving for the ball. Convincing the Guards to grant her an audience with the king would be next to impossible on this important day—his birthday, and the bicentennial celebration of his reign.

But she hadn’t been able to leave Mama in those first hours, when the physician was afraid she would die from the trauma. Jade would never forgive Arden if she did that.

The king would see her. He would listen. He had to. They’d relay Papa’s message to everyone they saw until she gained that audience. Because while they’d all dismiss her in a glance, they wouldn’t dare to dismiss him. Former Master of the Guard and now High Guardian of the Barrier Banks.

Dragging in one more fortifying breath, Arden strode through the iridescent gates and along the walkway that led straight for the palace.

She’d seen it every day of her life—but not like this.

The view of it from their rooftop deck was distant, small, and not even visible to most people’s naked eyes.

She’d always been able to make it out, but it had looked safe, tucked away on the cliff.

Non-threatening. More like a child’s toy than this—a monstrous, enormous complex that made her feel about as big and as important as a grain of sand.

Had she arrived here last night with her family, no doubt she would have gawked at everything she passed—the marble and crystal and pearl, the graceful lines and towering spires, the dance of the enormous fountain visible from all the eastern parts of the complex.

Today, none of it mattered. Today, Jade was gone. Today, Mama was lying unconscious on her bed, her face a bruised mess and her future uncertain. She could be paralyzed, which they wouldn’t know until she woke up. She might never wake up.

Tears stung Arden’s eyes. She blinked them away and looked around for someone to ask for help and direction.

Storm beat her to it. He strode to a uniformed Guard, purpose in his every step. Arden trailed behind him, trying to look fierce instead of like a lost little girl desperate for her sister and mother. Wishing her papa were here to hold her hand.

“Excuse me,” Storm was saying to the Guard. He was taller than the older man by several inches, and he sounded authoritative, as Papa had trained him to be. “We’ve come from the Banks on behalf of High Guardian Jericho Bleu with an urgent crystal for His Majesty.”

The Guard—he was of fairly low rank, given the insignia on his shoulder—snapped to attention. “Of course. Give me the crystal and I’ll—”

“I cannot.” Storm said it evenly, no presumption in his tone.

“I am under orders by Guardian Bleu to put it directly into the hands of His Majesty. Please, I know we will have to be vetted by your superiors before this will be entertained. But if you would take us to your commander to hasten the process, it would be appreciated. This is critical news. Lives are at stake.”

The man hesitated a moment then nodded. “Follow me.”

Arden kept pace easily enough, her long legs aiding her with that on land better than they ever did beneath the waves.

She reached up as they rounded a corner to press a hand to the burning cut on her right arm, but at Storm’s concerned look, she let it drop again. “It’s fine,” she muttered. “I’m fine.”

Just a cut. Deep, yes. Deep enough that she should have asked the doctor to stitch it up while he was there yesterday.

But Mama’s injuries were far more serious, and Arden hadn’t wanted to distract him.

She’d knit it together as best she could with the butterfly bandages they had at home then wrapped her arm in clean white gauze that wouldn’t show beneath her sleeve.

It hadn’t bled through the wrapping last night, so it must not be too bad.

She’d cleaned it and applied salve again this morning before they left, though she’d been careful not to look at it too closely, in the interest of keeping her breakfast down.

It would heal. Probably leave a nasty scar, but that was fitting.

It was a day her mind and heart would never forget. Why should her body ever be able to?

They were led into the courtyard of what she assumed was a security building then told to wait outside.

That suited Arden fine. She preferred being out to being in.

While Storm stood again in the at-ease posture Papa had instilled in him, hands clasped behind his back and feet shoulder-width apart, Arden gave up all pretense of training and paced the courtyard.

She didn’t mean to take in every detail about it, but that was the training she’d excelled in.

She counted the windows, the figures she could see within them, the solar-vehicles she could see and hear on the opposite side.

She looked beyond this small building, to the palace proper behind it.

The wide wall on which other Guards walked, the palace balconies, all the men and women visible from here.

Brown-robed friars. Black-robed scholars.

Blue-robed court officials. She saw people in standard dress too.

Civilians or other sorts of staff, she guessed, or even guests here for the ball.

Skin in every shade, hair of every color and texture, faces reflecting heritages long since lost to antiquity.

She found herself inexplicably watching for the flash of light on black scales. As if the unfamiliar mer would be here. Or as if they’d still be dressed like that if they were.

Many minutes ticked by before a higher-ranked Guardian with a scowling face emerged. “Good morning. You two are?”

Storm saluted. “Storm Bleu and my cousin Arden Bleu, sir. Nephew and daughter of High Guardian Jericho Bleu.”

Clearly the man recognized Papa’s name, but his frown didn’t ease any. “And why would the two of you be coming with urgent news instead of Rico himself?”

Ah, he knew Papa. Good. She hoped. Arden stepped forward. “Please. Something terrible has happened, and we must tell the king directly. When my mother heard of it, she fainted and fell from our upper deck. She’s in critical condition, which is why my father couldn’t leave her side.”

The commander blinked. “Your mother.”

Arden lifted her chin. “ Step mother. Sapphire. If you know my father well enough to call him Rico and know about my birth mother’s death, then you surely know he married Sapphire Calimore when I was five.

And if you know him from his days serving on the mainland, then you no doubt also carry an image of him in your mind of his younger years, in which case his nephew Storm here should look familiar to you.

Now stop testing us and show us to the king before it’s too late. ”