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The years after the arrival of the Kraken were idyllic for Rahvekya. Never had the island’s goddess been more beautiful, more radiant, than she was with her heart full and cherished.

There were hardships, yes. But we learned the most valuable lesson: that there is no strength to equal that granted by loving and being loved.

from the unpublished papers of Rahvekyan High Priestess Omira

Ash had once told Einar that, if they concentrated, the High Court could see the glow around other Dreamers. The Dragon had been commenting on Einar himself at the time, and the moody midnight blue-and-green glow that supposedly trumpeted the Kraken’s power for the High Court to see.

In two thousand years, Einar had never caught more than glimpses of the colors the others seemed to see so easily. The only exception had been Princess Sachielle, who sparkled in the sunlight like diamonds. He’d been there, on the Imperial battlefield, in the moment she’d come into her full power as the manifestation of the Dream itself. She’d been radiant, shining with a glow that defied color and yet embraced them all.

But, even though he’d rarely seen the colors, there was still a feeling to the oldest Dreamers. Power that vast had a weight. When you drew close, you knew on some level that you were in the presence of someone whose hopes shaped worlds. The Lover’s power had been subtler than some, but vast in a manner beyond comprehension. How could you measure the size of love?

Aleksi lay still on the bed in front of him, his light-brown skin pallid and his chest rising in breaths that seemed far too slow. Einar rested a hand on that chest, next to Naia’s, and tried to feel the presence of a member of the High Court.

All he felt was feverishly warm skin beneath Naia’s trembling hand, and a silence that was terribly wrong.

Love was dying right in front of them, and they didn’t know how to stop it.

Naia drew in a shaking breath. “You heard him, didn’t you? What he said right after he was poisoned?”

“When he said—” Einar felt his voice crack, and swallowed. The idea of the god of love having doubts was bad enough. That he might have doubted them ... “We almost made him believe again. Almost.”

She moved her hand in slow, pleading circles on Aleksi’s chest. “He can’t die now. We still have to make him understand .”

“We will,” Einar promised, hating that it sounded weak even to his own ears. Could Aleksi have truly not understood? How could a man who had peered into Einar’s very heart not believe there was room there for him? That he and Naia might have only wanted to enjoy the thrill of dallying with the Lover before they moved on without him ...

Einar’s fingers clenched around the quilt, and he exhaled sharply. “How long can we wait for those messengers to find Zanya and Sachielle? What if they don’t ?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “But it can’t be much longer. Gwynira’s healers are trying, but ... he won’t make it, Einar.”

He reached up to brush dark hair back from Aleksi’s brow, fingers trembling when he felt the heat. The Lover’s body was struggling to fight off the poison, but he was too weak now. “Sunset,” he whispered. “If one of them hasn’t arrived by sunset, I’m taking Aleksi through the Heart of the Ocean.”

“What do you mean, you ?”

“It’s dangerous, Naia.” He made his voice firm as he met her startled look. “I’m not risking the crew. Or you. If something happens down there, I’m the one with the best chance of surviving.”

“It is dangerous,” she agreed. “And you will not face it alone. Your crew can stay behind, but if you and Aleksi go, then I go, as well.”

“Naia—”

“I’ve made up my mind, Einar. We go together.”

If she had been emotional or furious, he might have been able to argue. But there was nothing in her face but calm, unrelenting resolve. In that moment, she did remind him of Dianthe. Those who only thought of the sea as moody and uncontrolled forgot that in its vast and icy depths lived an unshakable stillness that even the wildest storms could never touch.

Naia had made up her mind. Fighting against her now would be futile. “All right. We leave at—”

The door creaked, and his heart leapt with hope—and fell just as abruptly when he realized it wasn’t Sachielle or Zanya, only the latest in an endless stream of quiet, robed healers. Naia released Aleksi’s hand, and Einar sat back to give the healer room to work.

But the healer didn’t step closer, and their focus was not on Aleksi.

“Hello.” Elegant hands rose and pushed back her hood, revealing a woman with pale skin, honey-blonde hair, and sharp blue eyes. “This will only take a moment, and I would greatly appreciate your cooperation.”

Something cruel lurked in the depths of those eyes, and Einar’s instincts screamed in warning. He tried to rise to block her path to the bed—

His smallest finger twitched. Every muscle in his body felt encased in ice. He couldn’t even fight whatever had frozen him in place—there was nothing to fight against . He told his body to move, and it simply did not obey.

He inhaled sharply—grateful that he could still do that much—but what he intended to be a roar of demand came out as a rasping whisper. “Who ... are you?”

“Shh.” The woman peeled off her gloves. “Be a dove and pick him up, would you? I don’t imagine your water witch can carry him.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Einar caught sight of Naia, equally frozen at Aleksi’s other side. Futile, furious tears streamed down her cheeks.

No. He tried to say it, but this time his lips wouldn’t even move. His body did, though, and without his permission. He fought the slow rise, a snarl of effort escaping his lips. But his arms moved—not jerky, as if controlled from outside his body, but with smooth grace.

They were being kidnapped, and Einar couldn’t stop it.

In moments, he had gathered Aleksi in his arms and lifted him from the bed. He struggled against the first step, but it was useless. He was trapped within his own mind as his body pivoted neatly. Naia was already following the robed woman out the door, her movements casual but still wrong .

If Einar had seen her moving like that, he would have known. It wasn’t her pace, wasn’t her rhythm. But there was no hope that someone else would notice and raise the alarm. The only people who knew her well enough to realize something was wrong were Einar ... and the unconscious man in his arms.

This woman could parade them out of the palace in broad daylight, with no one the wiser.

Once in the hallway, they made an abrupt turn through a small, nondescript door that led into a far less ornate passage. “The service corridors,” the woman remarked casually. “Fewer opportunities for mischief, but I do know how these locals dote upon the two of you. So to make it clear that I’ll tolerate no mischief ...”

Ahead of him, Naia’s steps faltered, and a gasp of pain escaped her. Fury raged through Einar, but nothing escaped his lips but a muted growl, and his fingers barely twitched.

“It’s so easy, you know,” the woman said conversationally as Naia’s steps resumed. Einar couldn’t see her face, but he could hear her panting breaths, and he raged for the pain in them. “To squeeze the heart. To pinch a little here, or there. The body is so delicate, and there are so many things that can go wrong. So if either of you attempts to cry out or signal the servants in any way, the other will die where they stand.”

A new emotion slid through him, as frigid as the North Sea. They’d reached an obscure exit to the palace before Einar recognized it for what it was—an emotion he had not felt in over two thousand years.

Helplessness.

Einar had never heard of a Dreamer with the power to reach inside another’s body and control their every movement, their every breath . But wasn’t that why they were in Gwynira’s palace to begin with? This island had been spared, but the shattering of the Betrayer’s power had awoken new Dreamers all across the rest of his Empire. Many had been twisted by dreams that had been left to fester for the thousands of years he’d stolen the will from his people.

What was the power of a god in the face of a woman who could stop the heart in the chest of the woman you loved?

Step by unwilling step, held hostage by his own heart, Einar began to walk.