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I remember a day when a young girl asked for the goddess’s blessing. She was sick, her father said, and would not linger for much longer.

The goddess denied this. She kissed the girl’s brow, held her hands, and told her that she would be strong and lucky, and would live many years yet.

And so she did. Hers was a charmed life, that first goddess-touched child of Rahvekya.

from the unpublished papers of Rahvekyan High Priestess Omira

Aleksi had taken to spending most of his waking hours in quiet conversation with Gwynira. It was his mission, after all, to get to know the Grand Duchess, and to let her know him. True diplomacy always stemmed from finding common ground, and there was but one way to do that. It was a time-intensive process, but he was glad of it.

It meant that he could avoid Naia.

Not that he wanted to avoid her. Things were just simpler this way. She had been so concerned about the wound he’d suffered while defending the village from invasion that he didn’t want to see her again until it was healed. Which would thankfully be soon—the process was still far more sluggish than it should have been, but much faster than for a human.

It seemed he still had some power left.

But the delayed nature of his healing would, at best, prompt uncomfortable questions. At worst, it could shift all her tender concern into far more dangerous territory.

He should not have flirted with her the night he’d found her in the library. But he’d been a bit tipsy, and so pleased that he’d been able to protect Einar and once again secure Gwynira’s good will. At the time, it had seemed harmless. A bit of casual late-night conversation between friends.

Naia had been so lonely . The emotion had filled the room in icy, pale-green pulses that mimicked the beat of a heart, and he’d had only one thought: to bring her whatever comfort he could. So he’d spoken of his own difficulties, and how he’d overcome them.

And, eventually, he’d spoken of Alysaia.

That had been a mistake; he could see that now, in hindsight. Before that night, sitting in front of that hushed fire, Naia had looked at him as most others did. He was the Lover—sincere but distant, caring but inaccessible. A force as constant as gravity, and just as unlikely to be considered except for moments in extremis.

Now, when she looked at him, she truly saw him. What’s more, she seemed interested in what she saw.

And that posed a problem.

Aleksi had no doubt whatsoever that Naia was in love with Einar. She had been strongly drawn to the pirate lord from their first meeting, and Aleksi had watched that interest deepen over time into a regard whose strength he could feel in his bones. But monogamy had never been particularly prized by Dreamers—their lives were too long for their hearts to be so tightly bound. Love came in many shades, and it was possible to feel them all. Naia’s two closest friends were living proof of that.

The freedom to love however and whomever one chose was all Naia had ever seen, and her attachment to Einar did not preclude her developing feelings for Aleksi, as well. And that simply would not do. His failing health had made that much perfectly clear. He might not be dying , as he’d initially suspected—at least not anytime dreadfully soon—but there was something wrong with him. And he wouldn’t be a fit partner for anyone, not until he figured that out.

No. If he could remove himself from Naia’s notice, the sparks between her and Einar would have time to combust. And the resulting conflagration would leave the little nymph far too busy to think about Aleksi anymore.

The realization hurt , sharp and aching all at once, like falling and skidding over rough stone. But he had never resented watching love flourish from the outside, and he could not start now.

He would not.

A knock at the door pulled him from his reverie. So far, everyone had respected the wrapped knocker as a signal to leave him be ... but emergencies did happen.

He hauled open the door, his heart in his throat. Einar stood on the other side, tight with nerves but otherwise calm.

Aleksi stepped back. He could not hide from everyone, not for long, and Einar was far from likely to accidentally fall in love with him. “Come in.”

“Aleksi.” Einar nodded his thanks as he entered, but wasted no more time on pleasantries or small talk. “You’ve been making yourself scarce of late.”

“Diplomacy is hard work, and there is much to learn about the island.” The truth, such as it was, just not the whole truth. He had immersed himself in learning about the island’s people—Einar’s people, the natives of Rahvekya, not the Imperial colonizers. He gestured toward a stack of books on the low table in his sitting area. “Your parents were fascinating people. I regret that I never had the chance to meet them.”

“So do I.” Einar hesitated, as if reluctant to go on. Finally, he did. “Do the people here truly remember them so well?”

“Yes, it seems they do.” The volumes he’d borrowed from Gwynira’s personal collection invariably spoke of the enduring respect for Rahvekya’s last reigning queen and her king consort, regardless of when the books had been written. “What can I do for you, Einar?”

Einar heaved a conflicted sigh. “It’s about the ball Gwynira is holding tomorrow. I don’t know if I should attend.”

“Whyever not?” Naia was almost certainly looking forward to it, and it was unlike Einar to willingly disappoint her.

He began to pace like a big cat in a too-small cage. “Most of the Imperial Court fears me. At best, I will be a distraction we can ill afford. At worst, it will be that disastrous dinner all over again.”

“Most of Gwynira’s court isn’t worth considering, and she’d be the first to tell you so. In fact, she has .” Aleksi tilted his head. Einar was far too upset for this to be about any of the Imperial Court’s horrible, self-centered nobles. “What’s wrong? The truth, if you please.”

Einar stopped abruptly and ran a hand through his hair. Defiance clashed with the clear thread of self-consciousness that vibrated through the room. “I haven’t spent my time in ballrooms and palaces. But Naia went on progress with Princess Sachielle. She knows about fancy parties.”

It was a bit of a stretch, describing the consort’s progress as fancy . Mostly, the journey involved living in tents or ancient rustic cabins for weeks on end. Most of the formal festivities happened at the various seats of the High Court, and Einar had spent plenty of his time visiting those.

But that wasn’t really the point, was it? Aleksi dug past the surface of Einar’s words and into the sentiment that motivated them. He was unsure of himself, intimidated by the foreign customs of the Akeisan court ... and worried about looking a fool in front of Naia.

Only one thing mattered to Aleksi. “Do you want to go to the ball?”

Einar didn’t answer. He frowned, his unease deepening into something that bordered on vexation. “Would Naia be disappointed if I didn’t?”

“Honestly? Yes, probably. I imagine she would very much like to put on a lovely dress and dance with you again.”

It was clearly the answer that Einar wanted and feared in equal measure. His momentary delight was quickly supplanted by what Aleksi could only identify as dread . “I don’t even know how to dance. Not the kind you do in a ballroom,” he clarified.

That, at least, was easily remedied. “I can teach you. Enough to get by, anyway.” Aleksi winked, hoping to ease some of Einar’s discomfort. “You’ll have to rely on your relentless charm to do the rest.”

Einar huffed out a wry laugh. When Aleksi did not join him, he raised one eyebrow. “What, you mean right now?”

“Well, the ball is tomorrow.”

Einar stared at him for several long moments, reluctance warring with his dawning gratitude. Then he shrugged out of his heavy jacket, tossed it aside, and stood there in leather pants and a loose shirt of finely woven black cotton.

“All right.” He held both arms out at his sides. “I am in your hands.”

Aleksi circled him slowly, admiring his form even as he made minute corrections to it. Einar cut a fine figure, as always—his back straight, his stance relaxed, his shoulders thrown back with confidence. He was as beautiful as he was rugged, a devastating combination.

Here was Aleksi’s chance to tip the scales and solidify the Kraken’s seduction of his chosen lover. His heart ached, but the pain was tempered by his resolve. This was the right thing to do, so he would do it, and peace of mind would surely follow.

He moved to the corner, where the music player, an ornate cage-like machine made of finely wrought silver, rested on a carved stone table, wound and ready to play. Aleksi flicked the switch, and the crystal cylinder seated in the middle began to spin.

Music filled the room as he returned to circle Einar once again. “You don’t have to learn all the most popular court dances. Naia won’t know them, either. But that does not mean you cannot dance with her properly.” He stopped in front of him. “One classic step, with a little added flourish. You can master that.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Sheer nonsense. If you can keep your feet while your ship bucks through a storm, you can do this.” Aleksi took one of Einar’s hands in his, then guided the other to his hip. “Step forward with your right foot, then simply follow what I do.”

Aleksi moved with the music, coaxing Einar through a basic box step followed by a half turn. It was simple but effective, beautiful if executed well. His pupil moved haltingly at first, gazing down at their feet, but after a few repetitions, his steps smoothed, and he looked up once more.

“Excellent,” Aleksi praised. “Now, it is imperative that you remember what a dance is —a physical expression of what we discussed previously. Consideration.”

Einar’s brow furrowed. “I don’t see how wanting to make Naia happy will keep me from stepping on her feet.”

“Think of it like sex, then. I know you’re good at that.”

Einar almost stumbled, but he recovered quickly. He eyed Aleksi arrogantly, though a hint of a blush colored his cheeks and the tops of his ears. “That was over two thousand years ago.”

Einar had been human then, brash and fearless, with a reputation for fishing treacherous waters no other captain dared to sail. He’d brought that same arrogance to bear when visiting Seahold and Blade’s Rest, showing true deference only to Dianthe and Elevia. He’d mingled with the High Court as blithely as only a secret prince in exile could have.

But what Aleksi remembered best were the small moments, the ones he imagined no one had been meant to witness. Einar’s solicitous care for Petya, whom he treated like a mother rather than a first mate. His crew distributing the Imperial goods they had plundered, without any particular regard for enriching their captain or themselves. The clear summer afternoon that Einar had spent repairing a tiny, battered boat, as meticulously as he’d ever maintained the Kraken, for a family that could not pay him for his labor.

These were the things that had caught Aleksi’s attention, but it had not taken him long to realize that Einar’s heart could not be touched. The man guarded it zealously, a dragon with his proverbial hoard of gold. So Aleksi had taken the considerable pleasure that Einar had offered freely, and then he’d moved on.

But he still remembered.

“It has been a while,” he allowed, “but few people put in as much practice as you have only to get worse at something.”

A hint of a smile curved Einar’s lips, though it quickly faded. “True. But it’s been so long since I had to try .” He grimaced. “That sounds terrible, but you know how it is.”

“How what is?”

They danced in silence for several moments before Einar answered. “Once people began to see me as a god, they chased me .” He shook his head and corrected himself. “No, not me. They chased the Kraken.”

“Ah. Now that, I do understand.” How many potential lovers had Aleksi been obliged to turn away because they fancied themselves in love with him, when what they really wanted was some vague ideal rather than him ? “It can be difficult, being seen as an idea. But ... that does make it all the more intoxicating, doesn’t it?”

“What?” Einar asked, puzzled.

“Having someone truly see you. Not the god, but the man.”

“Intoxicating, perhaps, but also terrifying.”

It was so unexpected that Aleksi was the one who almost stumbled this time. “Why would that frighten you?”

“Because I haven’t been trying. They’ve chased me for centuries now. And I’ve never let them catch me unless I knew they wanted only what I had to offer—a night of pleasure. It’s all I’ve ever given.” Einar growled, low in his throat. “Maybe all I have to give.”

Baffled, Aleksi shook his head. “Why would you think that?”

Magic surged through the room, and Einar’s eyes began to glow a luminescent teal. “Because, Aleksi,” he said gently. “Even in my human skin, I am the Kraken now. A creature of the deep. My blood runs cold.”

“Not when you look at Naia,” Aleksi countered.

“No. I want her. I crave her like I’ve never craved anything else, until it’s an ache in my bones. She sings in the sea and in my dreams. I could drown in her.” Einar shuddered, his glowing eyes haunted. “And I could break her.”

So that was the part that truly terrified him.

“The ones who came before, they wanted to fuck the warrior or the pirate or the monster. I couldn’t hurt them, not really.” Einar closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, they were their usual brown. “But I’ve never had gentleness inside me. Only lust and rage.”

It was so far removed from what Aleksi saw that he barely managed to quell a snort. “You have lust and rage in you, certainly. But it’s not all you have, Einar.”

“How can you be so sure?”

The insecurity and fear in his voice threatened to break Aleksi’s heart, but he smiled through it. “Because I happen to be an excruciatingly good judge of character.”

Einar stopped dancing, his expression one of grave intensity. “You can see into a person’s heart.”

It wasn’t a question, but Aleksi answered anyway, a knot forming in his gut. “If I must.”

“Do it.” He caught Aleksi’s hands and pulled them to his face. “Tell me there’s something inside me that’s worthy of her. That there’s a chance I won’t shatter her.”

Aleksi’s first instinct was to yank his hands away, but he couldn’t. Not with Einar staring at him with such desperate determination. But neither could he do what the man asked—no, demanded.

He shook his head. “Einar, trust me—the fact that you worry about that is answer enough.”

“I am not afraid of what you might see,” he insisted fiercely, holding Aleksi’s gaze. “Only of what you might not.”

“Only a fool would not be afraid.” Aleksi had to make him understand. “You don’t know what you’re asking. Your entire soul would be laid bare to me. Nothing hidden, nothing kept sacred. Men have cried like babies, Einar, knowing all that I have seen.”

Einar’s answer was short and resolute. “Better my tears than hers.”

So brave, almost to the point of foolhardiness. Here was the undaunted pirate who sailed into ferocious, icy seas without a second thought. He might claim that the notion of having someone see him was frightening, but it would not stop him from opening himself. And not just to mortal examination, either, but to having a god peer into his very soul.

Einar would do it—for Naia.

As would Aleksi.

“For her,” Aleksi agreed in a whisper followed by a warning. “Breathe. And try not to fight it.”

Einar didn’t flinch, even when Aleksi gripped his face tighter and leaned closer, staring into his eyes. Beyond the rich brown flecked with gold, into the darkness of his pupils.

The rest of the world fell away.

Aleksi’s breath bubbled out around him as he plunged into that darkness. It was cold and deep, the blackest depths of the ocean at night. It pressed in on him from all sides, the chilly pressure threatening to crush his very bones.

Then, a light.

Aleksi swam toward the wavering glow, closer and closer, his lungs burning, until the light resolved into a scene playing out in the dark water before him.

A woman and a man cradled a swaddled child between them. They were both dressed in royal finery. The woman wore a hammered metal crown, and the man resembled Einar so strongly that, had he been able, Aleksi would have gasped. These could only be his parents. They bent over their infant son, whispering all their hopes and dreams for his future.

It could have been a memory, a tiny scene that had once played out right where Aleksi stood. But it had the hazy, too-bright quality that he associated with longing.

This was Einar’s hope, his vision of the past.

The heartwarming, heartbreaking scene dissolved before Aleksi, swept away by a warm eddy that swirled and then settled, forming a more vivid image. In this one, Einar sat at the captain’s table on his ship, surrounded by his crew. This one had the familiar, lived-in feeling of memory, only crisper. Something exactly like this had happened hundreds of times before, and this was its distillation.

Einar’s present.

Then it, too, dissipated. Aleksi blinked in the pitch black, until a song reached his ears, lilting and gentle and beckoning.

The ocean’s song.

Flashes of light pierced the darkness, images that came and went as quickly as Aleksi could process them. Naia, her golden skin and dark hair spread across a pillow. Her lips curving against Einar’s hand. A kiss scored by the soft sounds of waves lapping at the shore.

Einar, reaching out to Naia, desperate to close the distance between them. Water spun up between them, keeping them apart even as they strained toward one another. Finally, their fingers touched, twined, and a brilliant light washed everything away.

This was Einar’s future, one he did not yet know how to grasp, and the thwarted yearning of it threatened to break Aleksi’s heart.

He didn’t know how long he stood in his borrowed bedchamber, his hands trembling on Einar’s face, only that he could see Einar’s worry even through the unshed tears veiling his vision.

Finally, Einar shook him gently. “Aleksi?”

He blinked, and the tears fell.

Einar brushed a thumb over Aleksi’s wet cheek and grimaced. “Is it that bad?”

In that moment, still awash in Einar’s reflected emotions, all Aleksi wanted was to taste that yearning. He moved without thinking, slid his hand to the back of Einar’s head, drew him close, and captured his open mouth in a kiss.

Shock held Einar still, but only for a heartbeat. Then he moaned and slipped his fingers into Aleksi’s hair, pulling at the short strands.

It had been centuries since their last embrace. Einar kissed with more skill but less polish, somehow, as if raw desire lent a hard edge to the caress. His tongue stroked over Aleksi’s, pleading and commanding all at once.

It was mere steps to the bed. Aleksi burned to close the distance, to fall onto the soft surface and into all the other ways Einar had changed over the past two thousand years. But this was the opposite of what he’d intended, to remove himself from the situation as a potential complication.

Conscience—and no small amount of shame—led him to break the kiss and take a step back. “My apologies,” he rasped. “I should not have done that.”

Einar moved slowly, as if in a daze. He rubbed his thumb over his lower lip, then licked the spot. An absent gesture, quickly supplanted by sheer curiosity. “Why did you?”

Fuck. It was a complicated question, with an even more complicated answer. Because I’m lonely, and I’m scared. Because you need her so much, and I know what that’s like. And because I wanted to feel it, too, just for a moment.

Because I could have loved you once.

But Aleksi could not say those impossible things, so he settled for a simpler answer. “I got carried away. It will not happen again.”

Einar seemed to accept that. “As long as you weren’t trying to distract me so you don’t have to tell me that I’m hopeless.”

“Not in the least. You can love her.” You do love her. “All that is left now is to show her.”

Some of the tension melted out of Einar, and he closed his eyes in vulnerable, unguarded relief. Then he opened his eyes once more, and the cocky, arrogant Kraken had returned. “I suppose that’s where the dancing comes in.”

“Don’t try too hard,” Aleksi advised. “Remember that she doesn’t want you for who you aren’t, but who you are.”

Einar nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Aleksi.”

He had to bite back an automatic denial, which was madness. He had helped, and he was happy to do so. But as he murmured words to that effect around the lump in his throat, he could not quell the feeling that he’d done something irrevocable. That his world had shifted off its axis.

He shook away the thought and clapped his hands together. “Well, are you ready to continue? You need to practice until you can hold a conversation instead of counting off the beats.”

Another cocky grin. “Do your worst.”

“I would not dream of it.”

And yet, somehow, Aleksi suspected that perhaps he just had.