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I t took a lot to surprise Seidon. Between the number of years he’d lived and the number of people he’d known, he had become an expert at reading both people and situations.

But today had knocked him for several loops.

Happy birthday indeed. First the news of the missing Jade.

The wonder if she was who he’d sensed in the water.

The arrival of the mer royals with their obvious—and deceptive?

—agenda. He’d spent the afternoon trying to be at once welcoming, friendly, and completely non-committal.

Even so, he’d consented to their insistence that he let his blood mingle in the water with both Shell’s and Coral’s. To see if they would be a good match. He’d agreed because he needed to know who was, or at least who wasn’t, the one he’d sensed yesterday.

Neither of them. He was certain of that. The patterns their blood made together were unimpressive. Not a guarantee that suitable offspring couldn’t come of a match, but the best indicator they had.

The Crown Princess hadn’t deigned to participate, as was expected. Judging by the gray in her mother’s hair, Mariana would be ascending to her own throne soon enough.

He’d sidestepped any other mention of a possible alliance.

The queen hadn’t been happy about that, which had inspired his current plan.

She’d raised her chin at one point in the afternoon and asked him if he already had his next wife chosen.

It had seemed like a gift from heaven when his messages had chimed at that very moment, and he’d turned to his desk to see the images the dressmaker had sent of Arden in a variety of gowns.

He didn’t know why she’d even included the white one, other than that the dressmaker probably didn’t have many made already that would fit Arden. She was tall for a woman. But the moment he’d seen it, on the heels of Ralia’s question, he’d seized the inspiration and run with it.

Enoch had scowled at him when he’d heard the plan, insisting that deception was no answer. And generally speaking, Seidon agreed. He wasn’t lying outright, but he was letting people assume something for his own purposes. Was that wrong of him?

Maybe. But lines always blurred when politics and diplomacy and the threat of war entered the equation. If letting people assume he was engaged to Arden could save her sister, stop a war, and strengthen his kingdom for the next generation, then he’d let everyone do so.

But then came the last blow. Looking up when Arden came down those stairs and being hit in the gut.

Looking down at her again now, he liked that he didn’t have to look far. She was only four inches or so shorter than he was. Slender, willowy.

Not beautiful. He knew well that had been her objection, why she thought no one would believe he’d set his sights on her. She wasn’t traditionally beautiful. But she was fascinating. And to someone who had seen every kind of beauty the world had to offer over the centuries, that was…attractive.

When he’d met her that morning, he’d noted which features she’d gotten from her father and which came from her mother.

He’d seen her parents in her more than herself.

Noted, yes, where she deviated from Rico, whom he knew so well.

Appreciated her determination and willingness to stand up to him for the sake of her sister.

But as she’d come down that staircase, he hadn’t seen Jericho or Angelica Bleu.

He’d seen Arden. And appreciated the dress they’d chosen for a whole new reason.

The white contrasted brilliantly with the deep bronze of her skin.

Her hair, such an odd pairing to her complexion with its palest blond, shone like the beading on the gown.

And the fading blue at the bottom somehow drew attention to the fact that her eyes were so fair a brown as to look gold.

Yes, her features were too sharp. Her nose a bit too prominent for conventional beauty. Her figure too slight.

His stomach had tightened anyway as he looked at her, and his pulse had kicked up.

Interesting. And inconvenient. It had been decades since he’d looked at a woman and felt that stirring that said, Get her in your arms . Make her laugh. Not since Kerina. In general, it would be welcome.

But not now. Not tonight. Not with her, given the circumstances. Not when he was wondering if it was her sister who…

He nearly stumbled when a whole different pulse thrummed through him.

“Your—Seidon?” Arden drew away to search his face, concern shining in her eyes. “What is it?”

He pressed his lips together and spun them to the edge of the dance floor. Kept her hand in his but let his other fall from the warmth of her back. Closed his eyes.

There . A surge. A swell.

Magic. Magic in the water—his water. Nearby. A lot of it.

Too much of it.

His eyes flew open again, cold fury pumping through his veins. Belatedly, he realized he should temper himself—not only was he surrounded by a thousand guests, but his glare opened directly onto Arden.

She didn’t flinch away from it. Interesting . Instead, she leaned closer again and squeezed his fingers. “Tell me.”

He shouldn’t—she was a civilian. He knew Jericho relied on her assistance, though—she was in effect a deputy Guardian, though she had no official title.

And though he could doubt the motives of plenty of people at this ball, he couldn’t doubt hers. In a murmur, he said, “Invaders. Gathering at the southern tip of the Banks. Attempting to cover their movements with magic.”

Her golden brows drew together, her look every bit as fierce as his felt. “Their coming here was a ploy. A cover.”

“So it would seem.”

“How many? Can you tell? We need to get a message to my father—”

“Hundreds.” He shook his head, tugging her along the edge of the room. “Not a raiding party—not a full army. An elite force, I would bet.” A force with more Awakened mer than he had Guardians nearby to combat them. They would know that.

But they were attempting to take him by surprise because that was still their only, best chance.

Clever of them, really. Distract him with the arrival of the House of Sael.

Wait for the ball to be in full swing. Get into position now, using magic to camouflage themselves. Be ready to strike when darkness fell.

They’d only neglected one thing: he could sense their camouflage even more clearly than the convergence of so many people into one spot.

Arden had no trouble keeping up with his long strides as he aimed for the mer.

Good. He kept her hand in his because if he let go, she’d soon get swept into the commotion of evacuation, and he’d lose track of her.

But with his other hand, he reached up. Called to the water in all the emergency pipes in the palace, in the city, stretching even to the Banks. Closed his fist.

Alarms blared. The orchestra halted. The din of hundreds of conversations went still.

The Guards stepped forward. They recognized the particular pattern of the alarm, even if the guests didn’t. Within seconds, they were delivering calm orders to evacuate the ballroom, return to homes or rooms, and lock themselves in.

Arden’s fingers squeezed his. “How long?”

He didn’t even need to probe his senses. He knew where the forces were and how fast they could move, and he could guess where they were heading. “An hour. Time enough to evacuate and take up our positions. Time enough for your father to activate the forces staged in the Banks.”

“I should be there to help him.” Her whisper, low and furious, was aimed more at the universe than at him, it seemed. Then she glanced his way. “Not that he needs my help—”

“Today he would. But he has deputies. They will see to it.” They’d nearly reached the Saels, who had clustered together on the dais with their impassive faces marred by…what? In any other situation, he would have called it alarm. Concern. Fear.

Lies. It had to be. He stopped before them, letting go of Arden’s fingers as her cousin slid up to her other side. His gaze focused solely on Ralia.

She was aging. Lines spread out from her eyes, from her mouth. Silver touched her hair. Signs that her power was fading. That her daughter’s was growing.

How much power had she lost already?

Seidon folded his arms over his chest. “There are two hundred and seventy-five mer soldiers gathering in the shallows.” His voice went beyond calm and cool, even to his own ears. It verged into icy. “A rather ironic number, given today’s celebration. Purposeful? Is this a test?”

Ralia made no response for a long moment. She turned her head a few degrees, her eyes going unfocused. Then her brows knit. “You are mistaken. There is no one—”

“Perhaps you should ask your daughter.” He turned to Mariana and quirked a brow. “Princess? How many of your people do you sense breaking our treaty and gathering for invasion of my sovereign territory?”

Mariana jerked her chin but said nothing.

He shook his head. “It is bad enough that your people kidnapped a daughter of one of my highest-ranking officers yesterday—now you would dishonor the peace between us by attacking like cowards in the twilight, when my people ought to be celebrating? I thought better of you.”

Ralia fisted her hands, but he sensed no disturbance in the waters in response. “I said you were mistaken. This is clearly a ploy on your part, an excuse to insult us—”

“Why are the Black Tails back, Ralia?”

The queen blanched. “There have been no Black Tails for a thousand years.”

She believed it. Or wanted to believe it. Which gave life to a score of new questions he had no time for. Every blare of the alarm ticked away the time he had to get everyone in place. To defend his people. Protect his land.