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The goddess changed the day she met the storm god.

The stories speak of a god so dazzled by her bravery that he lost his heart and followed her home. What they omit is that she took that heart in trembling hands, held it close to her breast like a treasure.

The stories never say that she fell in love with him, too.

from the unpublished papers of Rahvekyan High Priestess Omira

Naia thought they might make a quick escape from the glittering confines of the palace. But as the first quartermark drifted into a second, she realized they would not get away so easily.

First, a man approached them. He was dressed like a sailor, only his clothes were made of delicate, readily damaged fabrics that would never hold up to the rigors of actual work. He braved Einar’s wrath to ask about the quality of the fishing beyond the Western Wall. Naia looked on in startled amusement ... until an older woman dripping with jewels cornered her to invite her to her estate on the eastern coast of Linzen. She extolled its virtues before finally coming to the point: could Naia help her design and execute a water feature that could take advantage of the property’s proximity to the waterfront?

These two encounters would have been just absurd enough to make for an entertaining story, only it kept happening . Half a dozen nobles were eager to demand Naia’s help, press her for information ... or beg formal introductions to the Lover.

On and on it went, with time only for her and Einar to share rueful smiles that inevitably gave way to looks of warm promise. By the time they managed to extricate themselves and head toward a somewhat sheltered exit to the side hall, Naia was almost giddy, breathless with ... what? Nerves? Anticipation? Arousal?

All that, and more. Still, she paused, her hand on the door’s latch, and sought out Aleksi one last time. He had insisted that he would be fine on his own, but she found herself strangely reluctant to leave him.

He was watching them, an inscrutable look darkening his eyes. Then he blinked and it was gone, replaced by a wink, a half smile, and a subtle nod toward the door. Einar opened it with a nod in return, and Naia left the dazzling lights of the ballroom behind.

Out in the darkened corridor, Naia slipped her hand into Einar’s. “Shall we hide in my chamber with a bottle of wine?”

A wicked smile curved his lips, making his dark eyes sparkle even in the dim light. “I have a better idea.”

He tugged at her hand, pulling her down the hall. Several turns later, Naia had no clue where they were, but Einar seemed to know the way. Finally, he shoved open a large, heavy door, spilling them directly out on the path to the docks.

Naia slowed to a stop. “You’re taking me to your ship?”

Einar turned, his grin melting into an expression of earnest solemnity. “I’m taking you to my home.”

Warmth curled through Naia. Einar wanted her in his bed—she understood the carnal truth of that now more than ever—but this was something else entirely. His crew, his family, was on that ship, and he was inviting her to spend time with them.

Whatever else, it was clear that Einar did not mean to keep Naia rigidly separated from his life, his real one, like he had with the rest of his temporary bedmates through the years.

She released his hand, but only to slide her arm through his and snuggle closer. “That sounds lovely.”

The ship was docked at the end of one of the floating piers. With the tide in, the ramp to its berth was almost level, though it rose and fell gently with the waves in the sheltered harbor. Another ramp led up to the Kraken itself, wide enough for Naia to navigate it even in her voluminous dress. Einar kept a hand at the small of her back all the same, steadying her when the ramp moved. He whistled once, a short, sharp sound that brought shuffling footsteps running across the deck.

Jinevra appeared, a frown creasing her brow until she caught sight of them. “Good evening, Cap. Lady Naia.” She helped Naia board the vessel. “Welcome home.”

Several others called out greetings, and Petya emerged from belowdecks. “Well,” she said, drawing out the word as she looked them over. “Aren’t you two all fancied up?”

“There was a ball tonight,” Naia explained.

“So I heard.”

“I decided that we deserve a night away from the castle,” Einar added.

“Good.” She gestured over her shoulder. “Jinevra’s on watch. Most everyone else is in the quarterdeck cabin. Gambling, I believe.”

Einar raised a questioning eyebrow at Naia. “Would you like to join them?”

She couldn’t quite smother a laugh. “You once warned me against gambling with your crew. Are you lifting that restriction?”

He leaned close enough to whisper in her ear. “Perhaps I’m learning not to underestimate you. And if they do ... well. They can pay for it. Quite literally.”

“Deal.”

Conversation and laughter and light and even a bit of music drifted out of the quarterdeck cabin, where the doors had been thrown open to the cool night air. When they walked in, a cheer of welcome rose from the round table in the center of the room.

“You’re back!” Arayda tossed a handful of cards into the middle of the table. “Does this mean we’re finally pushing off?”

Einar shook his head. “Not yet. Diplomacy takes time.”

Silvio fanned out a handful of cards, then nimbly flipped them back into a neat stack as he shuffled. “The game is Three Queens. Are you in?”

Borrowed memories supplied Naia with a vague notion of how to play. The goal was to be the first player to collect three queens from the specialized deck. Players could employ a number of tricks to steal a displayed queen from another, and the game involved no small amount of bluffing—and flat-out lying.

“Thank you,” Naia demurred, “but I’d rather watch.”

“Very well. Captain?”

“Of course.”

A sailor whose name Naia did not know jumped out of his seat and offered it to her. Einar held it as she sat, then brushed a lingering caress over the back of her shoulder as he pushed in her chair. She shivered, almost missing the glare he flashed at Arayda, who sat beside Naia.

“What?” she exclaimed. “It’s not my fault you put the pretty lady next to me.” She winked at Naia. “But I’m not moving.”

Einar growled. “You want me to tell your wife?”

“Not unless you want Jinevra down here, flirting with her, too.”

Einar’s growl turned into a grumble, and the person on Naia’s other side hopped out of her chair. “Here, Cap. Take mine.”

He slid into the seat, pulling it so close that his thigh pressed against Naia’s, warm even through the many layers of her dress. Ceillie, Petya’s cat, rose from her spot on the table, stretched, and waited politely for Naia to pick her up before settling into her lap as the game began.

Everyone tossed their coin into the center of the table, and Silvio dealt the first hand. Unlike most card games Naia had played, Three Queens did not pay out the pot until the very end of the game. Every hand had a higher buy-in than the one before, and running out of money to pay into the pot meant forfeiting the game. So even if you had a strategy for being the first to collect your three queens, you had to win as quickly as possible.

Einar retrieved his cards and began sorting them. It was a solid hand—no queens, but a jack and a king that could both be used to steal from another player. And that was all Naia had time to notice before his leg moved against hers.

She inhaled sharply.

Einar cleared his throat. “Has anyone been giving you a hard time since the attack on Jamyskar?”

Petya, who was still standing in the doorway, snorted. “A few Imperial brats with more bluster than sense came down to shout insults at us, but Gwynira’s guards chased them off.”

Bexi, who sat on the opposite side of the table, shook her head and clucked her tongue. “Too bad, too. I offered to come closer and let them say it again—with feeling, this time—but no takers.”

Her husband chuckled. “They did seem ready to soil themselves.” He paused and smiled. “It was beautiful.”

“You’re biased, Brynjar.”

“Yes, I am.”

Solorena, who wore her dark hair in intricate braids tonight, tossed down a queen with more force than was strictly necessary. “As if we would have attacked a village full of fishermen and old ladies. Or been so incompetent if we had .”

Einar started the next round by throwing more coins into the center of the table. “Everything else has been quiet?”

“I’d say more odd than quiet,” Arayda answered.

“Odd?”

“Jinevra and I went out for dinner one night,” she explained, “and you’d have thought we were gods. No one would let us pay for anything, and they kept asking us questions.”

“About what?” Naia asked.

“About the captain, mostly. But also about you, Lady Naia,” Arayda admitted, tossing her coins into the pile.

It made sense that the people who lived around the castle had heard about Einar’s return, and that they were curious about their fabled lost prince. But Naia was less certain about why they would be eager to hear about her .

Unless they’d bought into the idea that a god with an affinity for water— any god—must be their goddess, returned. The belief had to linger, or else who was keeping those lanterns up the hillside filled and burning?

Or perhaps Naia and Einar were simply so inextricably linked in the people’s minds already that curiosity about their prince naturally extended to his lover.

Naia dipped her head to hide the blush the word elicited, even in the silence of her own mind. Ceillie stared up at her, her green eyes unblinking.

“I hope you were circumspect,” Einar muttered.

“Don’t worry. We kept our mouths shut.”

Bexi laughed. “Oh, I doubt that. Ever since that night, the villagers have been leaving trinkets on the dock. Fresh fruit and little charms and all sorts of things. Almost like offerings.”

Nusaiba rapped on the table. “Stop trying to delay your inevitable defeats and play the damn game .”

The game went on. Cheers and protests alike went up all around the table as queens were stolen and then stolen again. With each hand, the pot slowly grew, while the much smaller stacks of coins in front of each player dwindled even further.

One by one, players began to fall. Cards were laid down, and still more were dealt. Einar lost his only queen, and soon after, the last of his coin. The others teased him mercilessly, always stopping short of saying straight out that he’d lost because most of his attention was focused on Naia.

The flurry of activity and the noisy, boisterous voices should have overwhelmed Naia. Instead, it felt like home . She could easily imagine whiling away the long evenings at sea like this, laughing over ale and cards until her sides ached.

And then retiring to the captain’s cabin.

Another blush heated her cheeks, then deepened when Einar’s hand brushed her thigh. Her gaze met his. His eyes were still brown, but a tiny hint of sea green and teal swirled near their centers, and Naia found herself leaning toward him.

She jerked back when Ceillie meowed a protest and jumped off her lap, having obviously decided that it wasn’t a restful place to be, after all.

Arayda laid down a third queen and shouted in victory. The others grumbled as she began to rake the huge pile of coins in her direction, and Silvio held up the cards. “Another game?”

But Petya stepped in. “That’s enough lazing about. Arayda, go buy your wife something pretty. Now, you all have duties, so be about them.”

“But I need to win my money back,” Solorena protested, only for Nusaiba to hustle her out of her seat with a grin and a murmur.

As Petya closed the doors behind them all, Naia stifled a laugh and began to gather the scattered cards. “Well.”

Einar groaned. “I’d say they’re usually more subtle than this, but they’re not.”

“Do they need to be?”

“Not on this ship. Not while I’m still captain.” He looked down at the cards in her hands, and another wicked smile curved his lips. “Lady Naia, what do you intend to wager?”

“Who says I’ll be gambling with you?”

“I was hoping you might consider it.”

“No. I managed to capture your interest, and that is luck enough for me. I don’t intend to push it.” She set the cards aside, then pushed the table over just far enough to clear a bit of space in front of Einar’s chair. Then she climbed in his lap. “I intend to focus on other things tonight.”

His hands settled on her hips. “I do like this much better than cards.”

With the endless layers of her skirt puffing up around them, it felt like they were surrounded by the sea and the sky. It felt right, and she wound her arms around his neck. “It must be nice for you, being back on your ship for a little while.”

His fingers swept up her spine, light and teasing, past the fabric of her dress to bare skin. “Like I can finally take a full breath again. It’s good to feel the rhythm of the waves.”

This visit had been so hard on him. She and Aleksi had no personal pain tied up in this mission; for them, it was just that. But Einar’s entire life had been shaped by the trauma of colonization, of losing his home, losing his parents. By the very circumstances that had led to Gwynira’s rule.

“You could stay here, with your crew,” she suggested softly. “I don’t mind, and I’m sure Aleksi wouldn’t.”

“ No. ” The word was hard and immediate, though his expression gentled a moment later. “I don’t think I could rest easily away from the two of you. I know you don’t need protection from mortals, and Aleksi can take care of himself, but ...”

“I understand. But I had to offer, you know that, right?”

Einar caressed her cheek. “And I appreciate it, sweet goddess.”

She brushed her lips over his, quick and light. It was sweeter than their first kiss in the temple ruins, but no less electrifying. “You’re welcome.”

He wound his hands in the hair she’d left down this evening, his thumbs grazing the back of her neck. “I may have been wrong before, when I said that all I can offer you is a single night of pleasure.”

Naia shivered. “Oh?”

He moved his hands higher, to the pins that secured the rest of her hair. Slowly, he plucked one pin. “I can’t offer you fancy castles or balls or any sort of proper life. But I could offer you this.” He tossed the pin on the table and tugged another free, followed by another. “The sea. This ship. A crew that adores you.” Her hair tumbled down around them as he liberated the final pin. “And me.”

Pretty, meaningless words could not have moved her half as much as this simple declaration, spoken with a sincerity that made unshed tears burn her eyes.

For a man who claimed not even a passing acquaintance with romance, Einar managed quite well.

“What more could a water nymph want than a life at sea?” Naia smiled and framed his face with her hands. “And a dashing pirate.”

But he did not return her smile. He remained solemn and serious. “That’s the question, isn’t it? Would you want more? Because the Lover can give you things I never can.”

It was so unexpected that it shocked a laugh from her. “I can’t imagine Aleksi wants to give me anything.”

“Then perhaps you’ve not noticed the way he looks at you.” Einar ran his fingers through her hair, taming the wild curls. “There were moments tonight when I thought I glimpsed envy in his eyes.”

It seemed impossible ... but Naia had made incorrect assumptions about Aleksi before. He had been pushing her and Einar together, that much was unassailably certain. In fact, his efforts had seemed to increase as the days passed, even as he himself seemed to pull away from them.

Naia had imagined that his matchmaking efforts had been driven by a desire to see them both happy—and she still fully believed that to be true. But she’d also thought his current emotional distance to be born of courtesy, a way to ensure that she and Einar were focused on one another instead of being distracted by the mission or Aleksi’s presence.

Perhaps that was not it at all.

“I care about Aleksi,” she said finally. “He deserves to be happy, maybe more so than most. He gives so much, yet expects so little. It doesn’t quite seem fair, does it?”

“No,” Einar whispered. “But I must confess something, Naia. I asked him to tutor me, so that I could dance with you at the ball. And, during the lesson, he kissed me.”

“He kissed you?” She pulled back a little and studied Einar’s face. In it, she found guilt, concern ... and a tiny shred of guarded interest. “It sounds more like Aleksi might be envious of me .”

Einar chuckled ruefully. “If the Lover yearned for me alone, he’s had centuries in which to act.”

“Timing can be everything.”

“So can circumstance. Perhaps the god of love saw little to intrigue him in the Kraken’s frozen heart.” Einar lifted her chin gently. “But it isn’t so frozen anymore.”

Naia’s heart shuddered, then resumed a faster beat. Here was everything she’d wanted, laid out before her—Einar, freely offering her his heart and his future. She and Einar could pretend they had not noticed Aleksi noticing them and move ahead together.

That path was safe ... but it would mean ignoring the loneliness she had glimpsed in Aleksi. It would mean shutting a part of herself off, and potentially a part of Einar, as well.

Or.

She and Einar could make themselves vulnerable—not just to each other, but to Aleksi—and find out the full extent of what their hearts could hold.

In the end, there was only one thing she could say. One thing that mattered. “Do you love him? Could you?”

He considered that. “Not so many weeks ago, I would have said I couldn’t love anyone.” He pressed his lips to hers in a lingering kiss. “Now, I say that I would be a poor excuse for a pirate if I could not take a risk when the potential treasure to be won is so great.”

“Then we take the leap,” Naia whispered. “And no matter where we land, it will have been worth it.”

Einar kissed her again, more deeply this time, his tongue begging entrance to her mouth even as his hand clenched in her hair demanded it. It went on and on until Naia was squirming on his lap, and he had to grip her hips to hold her still.

She gasped for breath. “How do we speak to Aleksi about this?”

“Leave it to me.” Einar licked her lower lip one last time. “I know the perfect place.”