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S eidon had forgotten how interminably long a traditional coronation ceremony was. In his defense, it had been two hundred years since he’d last attended one—his own. And most of that one was a blur.

It had begun on the steps, but after the high priest had droned on for half of forever, those guests who had received an invitation to do so filtered into the cathedral.

Seidon, despite his lack of invitation, didn’t argue when the guards bowed the cue that he was to enter directly behind the royal family. Finn and Librus were quick to follow, and he suspected their pockets were as empty of invites as his.

He heard the low growl of outrage from the prince when they entered the cavernous room and the question of where the missing siblings were was answered.

The three middle children were lined up at the front, alive but chained together and under heavy guard.

Seidon could well understand Finn’s reaction—was, in fact, glad to observe it.

He wasn’t convinced that the youngest Sael would be any better at ruling than the eldest child—but at least he didn’t seem bent on exterminating the rest of the line.

He quickly took in everything else he could about the structure, glad to see that not many changes had been made since he’d last been here.

The focal point was still the large fountain behind the altar, which sent its salt water into troughs that lined the walls.

No columns like in his own cathedrals, to showcase the power of the Triada—but plenty of water to showcase the magic of the Awakened.

He felt it thrum in response to the holders of that power who made their way inside.

The way it danced a welcome at the behest of the queen and Crown Princess.

The way it was snatched from that pattern and put into a new one by either Finn or Librus—Librus, he would bet, given the nod of what looked like thanks that Finn sent him.

Nothing from the three in chains, which made him wonder, as he noted the way the manacles glowed faintly blue, whether something about them constrained their magic.

He made no attempt of his own to influence the waters, even when he sensed them calling. Inviting.

He knew these waters. They were the same as the ones that caressed his own shores. That welcomed him when he dove off the cliff. That came gurgling up into his own pools and fountains. All one, all connected. They would come to him instead, if he called them. He could gather them where he pleased.

Not yet , he whispered to them, imagining a soothing hand sent over them. But I see you. I know you’re there. I thank you for your greeting .

At the look Ralia shot him as soon as she turned to face the gathering, he wondered if she’d noticed the exchange. Or if, perhaps, she’d expected a show of force and was surprised that he hadn’t made it.

He settled into the front pew, projecting ease despite the way his stomach clenched. Perhaps they’d think he couldn’t take control of the waters from Librus.

That would do. Let them underestimate him, if they wanted. Let Librus think they were allies, if he dared.

He nearly missed the way the High Priest exchanged a glance with Librus a few minutes later, as he took his position behind the altar.

Nearly. But he caught it, and it made Seidon sit up a little straighter.

Made him search the room, looking for the vestments that would denote other priests of the One.

They were everywhere—which wasn’t a surprise. He’d expected many of them to be in attendance, as their counterparts in Daryatla had been for his coronation. But these men didn’t much look like Enoch or the friars he knew best. There were no bowed backs, no gray hairs, no wrinkled faces.

They were all…young, or at least young-looking. Fit beneath their robes. And they weren’t standing there with their eyes on any of the religious items throughout the chambers, contemplating the divine. They were all looking either at the High Priest or at Librus.

The hairs on Seidon’s arms stood on end.

Were they really young—or were they Awakened?

He’d already mused to Arden that Ralia had likely neglected the priestly sector when tallying up who could challenge her or Mariana.

Had Librus done more than grow his own strength in her ignorance—had he seeded the priesthood with Awakened, who were operating right under the royals’ noses, totally unrecognized?

More speeches commenced, giving him plenty of time to contemplate the implications, if it were so.

He knew the strength of the Black Tails. He knew what new uses of their magic they’d developed and used in their tridents, in the wall.

But the priests—he didn’t know them. Didn’t know what they might have studied, what they might have learned. Had they been at this for centuries already? Had they been the ones to teach Librus? Or were they a new installation, led by him?

He couldn’t know, and the not-knowing wound him tighter with each droning minute that crawled by. Two more hours were eaten up by ceremony before a pipe rang out, and Ralia and Mariana stood, moving forward.

His stomach clenched when the three bound siblings were tugged into the center of the sanctuary as well.

Librus leaned closer, murmuring, “Now is not the time to tip your hand, Your Majesty. Brace yourself. You know how we mer tend to be on coronation days.”

Bloody, that was what. He couldn’t recall a coronation in the entire history of the mer that hadn’t involved bloodshed.

Did that mean he had to sit back and watch those three be slaughtered?

Finn, seated on the other side of Librus, clenched his fists together.

“Easy, cousin,” Librus murmured to him. “Trust me.”

Perhaps Finn did, but Seidon didn’t. Even so, the priest was right about tipping his hand too soon. If he was going to interfere with something, it had to be after the crown was transferred to Mariana. As her power surged, not before.

Ralia must have commanded her middle three children to kneel, because they all dropped to their knees before her. “Finn!” she called, far more loudly than necessary to reach her youngest son. “Come join your siblings.”

Finn crossed his muscled arms over his chest. “No thanks.”

Ralia snarled. Mariana edged to her side and whispered something in her ear. Whatever it was, it brought Ralia’s chin up, and though fury flashed in her eyes as she looked once more to Finn, she nodded and returned her attention to her less fortunate offspring.

From where he sat, Seidon could see a bit of their faces, and none of them showed fear. Nor hope. Just proud resignation.

Ralia unsheathed the ceremonial sword she wore, held it up. “It is for the good of the kingdom that I take this action now. For unity. For strength. For our future!”

The priests moved as one, with whisper softness, so smoothly that it took Seidon a long moment to process what was happening, what they were doing.

There were shouts, and there was a spurt of blood, which triggered screams throughout the cathedral.

Librus and Finn both leapt to their feet and out into the aisle in the next second.

Only when the crowd of priests moved again could he see that it was Ralia and her husband who lay slain—the three siblings were being ushered into Seidon’s pew.

He’d taken to his feet at some point, as everyone else had. Finn stood at the end of the pew, hugging his sisters and brother and then all but shoving them toward Seidon. The look he sent clearly said, Can I trust you to watch over them?

Seidon nodded. Finn did too, and then darted back up to the altar, where Mariana still stood, unscathed. Librus moved even then to her side. Finn charged up to flank the priest on the other.

What was going on? He’d known well there would be forces at play well beyond the information Kiyana had given them. Political—and religious, apparently—scheming at levels he couldn’t hope to guess before he got here.

But for a moment, he wondered if they’d had it all wrong. He dared to hope that Ralia had been the problem all along, Mariana just her puppet. That, with their parents dead, the Sael siblings would usher in an era of peace.

It was a fragile hope. One built more of wish than faith.

Which was probably why he felt only dread, not surprise, when Librus stepped away from Finn.

When he and Mariana turned as one toward the prince.

And when, with her mother’s sword, the princess drove the blade straight through her brother’s heart.

Seidon hadn’t yet sat and leapt now over the divider between the pews and the steps. His hands came up, the water all around them answering his silent call and rising to do his bidding, whatever it may be.

Too late. Even as he tried to form a plan, the High Priest set the mer crown upon Mariana’s head and she, with a roar, lifted the sword.

Librus’s hand covered hers. Seidon saw the spark, the blue, the electricity that surged up the blade. It sizzled in the air like lightning, wrapping round the blade until it shot straight up, into the ceiling of the cathedral. Through it.

When the priests charged Seidon’s pew, he acted more on instinct than thought.

Shoving at them with the water, holding off their own magic—definitely Awakened—with his own.

With a roar, he slashed back, breaking the glowing bonds that Finn hadn’t thought to take from his siblings’ hands.

A split second of a held gaze with Coral was enough—he saw the gratitude in her eyes, and the recognition that he’d answered her plea as best as he could.

He could feel her magic, and Shell’s and Reg’s, join with his to fight off the priests.

His gaze returned to the front, where Mariana screamed and fought, seeming unable to release the sword. She fell, thrashed, Librus going down with her—then rising in the next second, the lightning-spewing sword still in his hand.

The crown upon his head.

Too much happened in the next moment. The ear-piercing crack. The sudden change of pressure. The sound of rain—a sound never heard beneath the sea. A sudden jolt in his deepest self that said Arden!

And then the sea broke in.