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The green scanty is a fish commonly found in large numbers in cold oceans. Its taste is so pungent that those of the Empire have only ever used it as bait for more palatable fish. But one of the most popular Akeisan dishes is a stew made from green scanty that has been dried and preserved. While the taste is decidedly unique, I must caution you that it can be overwhelming for the more refined palate.

Akeisa: A Study of Flora and Fauna

by Guildmaster Klement

Einar couldn’t remember the last time he’d had the captain’s table set for guests.

Most of the time, he was happy enough to eat in the mess with the rest of the crew. On the rare occasions when he needed to have a serious—and private—discussion with his officers, they brought their food to his personal dining room with little pomp or fuss.

Tonight, the table was all pomp and fuss.

“Was all of this truly necessary?” He tugged at the edge of the tablecloth his cook had spread out over his perfectly acceptable Witchwood oak table. The deep violet was the same color as the banners that flew above the Villa and at Dragon’s Keep whenever the Lover was in residence. There had been no warning that Aleksi would be joining them, and no time to take on custom supplies in Seahold, which left Einar wondering if Harlen had been hoarding tablecloths in the colors of the entire High Court, just on the off chance he’d have the honor of serving them at Einar’s table.

Harlen swatted Einar’s fingers and smoothed the fabric back into place before casting a judicious eye over the entire spread. “I won’t have it said that my galley doesn’t know its duty to the High Court,” he grumbled as he leaned forward and laid his hands on either side of a metal tureen. The air shimmered, and a cool breeze tickled past Einar as Harlen drew heat from the air and transferred it to the dish.

The strong smell of salted fish and herbs rose on the steam from its contents, a scent that took Einar back to his childhood. “Is that the stew I asked for?”

“Yes. And it took hours to get enough salt out of that dried fish to make something palatable from it.”

Einar imagined so. There had been no fancy cooks to delicately prepare the dried fish on that first tiny fishing boat. There had only been Petya and Jinevra and Einar himself, not quite ten and already learning the trade. There had been weeks where they’d had nothing to eat beyond what they could catch and what they’d dried and stored. The salty fish stew had been a staple of Petya’s youth, and sometimes she still enjoyed a bowl. Elevia, who always showed great respect for Petya when she visited Dragon’s Keep, had prepared the dish on their last visit—much to Einar’s dismay.

And much to Naia’s delight . At the first taste of it, she’d rolled back her eyes as if caught on a wave of pure nostalgic bliss. Now he understood why—she might have dozens of memories of it from people just like Petya, people who associated it with warmth and home and love and the pleasure of a full belly.

In that moment, Einar had come very close to envying a stew . But Naia’s enjoyment made it the perfect peace offering. Perhaps Naia would savor the dish enough to forget his unkind words from the previous night.

“Well.” Harlen adjusted two more serving dishes before polishing a fork on his apron. “If that’s all you need ...”

It was a cue to express his fervent gratitude, which Einar would do without reservation. He might grumble over the table settings, but he couldn’t risk actually irritating Harlen. The man might decide to finally accept one of the many generous and prestigious postings he’d been offered over the centuries. No one—least of all Einar—wanted to go back to Jinevra’s culinary experiments. “It looks fit for the High Court,” he said with honest appreciation. “I’m sure Lady Naia and the Lover will appreciate the time and effort you put in.”

“I can only speak for myself,” Aleksi said from the doorway, “but I certainly do. Harlen, you set a lovely table.”

Harlen beamed, his pale cheeks flushing at the praise as he bowed. “My lord, it is an honor to serve you. Especially now. I have a special menu planned tomorrow in your honor.”

“You shouldn’t have. This feast is more than enough.”

“Ah, but it’s no trouble.” Another bow, this one even lower, and Einar began to worry that his cook would bob himself into an outright swoon. “The crew expects it. The Siren and the Huntress may be the captain’s particular patrons, but we hold faith with the entire High Court on this ship. We always celebrate the first day of a new moon.”

Einar gave Harlen an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “And we are grateful to you for making those celebrations possible. If you need extra help preparing for tomorrow, have Petya assign you a couple of assistants. She’ll know who can be spared.”

“Yes, Captain.” Harlen made it two steps toward the door before bowing again. “My lord Lover.”

“Have a good night, Harlen.”

When the cook was finally gone, Einar rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I’m sorry if they pester you. But they are very excited to have you on board. And Lady Naia, as well.”

“Your crew’s manners are delightful , Captain.” Aleksi tilted his head as he sank into a chair at the table. “It makes me wonder what happened to yours.”

Had Naia complained to him? Or did the Lover simply know ? His worshippers would certainly ascribe that power to him—to know of every romantic entanglement or lustful proposition, as if his will alone dictated success or failure. Einar had known the High Court for long enough to winnow truth from myth most of the time ... but Aleksi’s perception could be as uncanny as his wit was cutting.

Einar pulled out the carved chair at the head of the table and sat. “I find pretty manners can get in the way of getting things done.”

“It can seem that way,” Aleksi agreed. “If you view courtesy as a sort of prescribed ceremony, unique to circumstances rather than people.”

Einar frowned and waved a hand at the table, with its endless silverware and truly ridiculous number of glasses, each of which had come with a stern lecture from Harlen about what liquids they could or must not hold. “What else would you call it? All the trappings are just there to remind some of us that we grew up rough and never had a chance to learn all the rules.”

Aleksi plucked a fork from the table and twirled it between his fingers. “Would it bother you if I ate the meal tonight with my hands?”

“I mean, the stew might be a little awkward, but even that works with a bit of bread.” Einar shrugged. “It’s how I’d be eating it if you weren’t here, more likely than not.”

“I’ll take that as a no , even though you didn’t actually answer my question.” Aleksi held up the fork. “You wouldn’t be offended, but there are others who would be miserably uncomfortable watching me do that. So I would never do it in front of them. That is the key to courtesy.”

Discomfort cracked the perfect armor of Einar’s confidence. “And if it makes someone miserable to sit at a table and be judged for not knowing which fork to use? Most of the fancy lords I’ve met wouldn’t care if they were making someone uncomfortable.”

“Because they’re discourteous, Einar. Pay attention.” Aleksi leaned forward. “Knowing your companions and demonstrating care for their feelings—that’s all it is. Anyone who tries to make it about forks or what someone’s wearing is perverting the very simple concept of thoughtfulness.”

There was little Einar could say in response to that well-placed verbal slap. And he’d certainly earned it, though he’d turn the table on its side and risk Harlen’s wrath before admitting it.

“But you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Aleksi gestured to the tureen of stew. “You had Harlen prepare this dish, even though you loathe it and it rather smells. Why? Because it’s one of Naia’s favorites.”

Oh, he’d do worse than upend the table before confessing to that . He’d toss this entire disastrous dinner into the sea first, and let the fish have joy of it. How Aleksi had known—or guessed—his dislike of the damn stew ...

No. Thinking about it would only risk revealing more. Reaching for a bottle of wine—the regular kind, not the Lover’s vintage—Einar poured himself a glass and took a sip. “The stew is a favorite of Petya’s.” His easy drawl sounded almost casual. “Don’t make something out of nothing.”

“You’re an abominable liar.” Aleksi’s smile softened the sting of his words as he held out his own empty glass. “So. You and the nymph. It’s predictable, but there’s a certain charm in that, I suppose.”

He was a terrible liar, so he busied himself filling Aleksi’s glass before bluffing with the truth. “Only a fool would have designs on Dianthe’s protégée.”

“We are all fools when it comes to love.”

Einar snorted and thumped the bottle of wine back on the table. “Fools, maybe, but I still have some survival instincts. Anyone who wounds Naia’s heart will find themselves in a watery grave so deep, even I couldn’t survive it.”

“Then the trick, I imagine, will be not to wound her.” Aleksi retrieved his glass and raised it in a jaunty salute. “Lesser men have done right by their lovers. So can you.”

Einar accepted the unsubtle jab and responded with a teeth-baring smile. “Haven’t you heard the songs? Most of the people who write and rewrite them make their home at your villa, after all. You should know that the Kraken has no heart.”

Aleksi’s next words were low, earnest, with no trace of amusement. “It is never too late to teach them a new song.”

The flicker of yearning in Einar’s chest was as unexpected as Naia’s sudden arrival. She hurried into the cabin, snow still clinging to her hair, dressed in a warm gown with long quilted sleeves and a plain skirt. The fabric was light teal, the color of seafoam, and double-woven with hints of midnight blue peeking through the top layer. The combination made the colors shift with every movement, until Naia’s dress seemed to ripple like water.

“Sorry I’m late. Petya was teaching me how to do a chain splice, and I lost track of ...” She trailed off, and her cheeks turned a deeper pink as she took in the formal table settings. “Should I have changed for dinner?”

With Aleksi’s lecture on manners fresh enough to sting, Einar shoved his chair back and rose. “Not at all. My cook is just happy to have someone to show off for. Take a seat.”

She met his overtures with a brilliant smile. “Thank you.”

Once she was settled in a chair, Einar poured her a glass of wine before resuming his place at the head of the table. Candlelight danced over the dozens of dishes and threw sparkling rainbows from the tiny crystal glasses waiting for him to pour the Lover’s special vintage. It was as elegant a presentation as anything seen at Seahold, and Einar felt awkwardly out of place presiding over it.

Aleksi and Naia simply looked at home.

Well, that’s why they were the diplomats and he was the hired muscle sent to protect them. But this was his dining cabin on his ship. No amount of frippery or number of forks could change the fact that the Lover and the nymph were now in his domain. On the Kraken, only one master ruled.

Lifting his glass, he wrapped the monster around him like armor and gave his laziest smile. “Dig in. If you don’t enjoy your dinner, Harlen will be heartbroken.”

Naia’s smile turned mischievous. “Does that mean he’s finally forgiven me for beating him at dice?”

Einar felt his eyebrows fly up before he could stop them. “You were dicing with the crew?”

She avoided his gaze. “A lady never tells.”

“I believe that applies to something other than gambling,” Aleksi pointed out.

“Hush.”

Einar pulled the cover from the dish closest to his elbow, unsurprised to see large shrimp swimming in a spicy chocolate sauce. “Did anyone warn you about the final day of the Witching Moon, Lady Naia?”

“No.” She leaned toward him, her chin resting on her hand and her eyes sparkling. “Tell me.”

He tilted the dish toward her, letting the decadent smell fill the air between them. “It’s all about chocolate. I assume you’ve had some?”

“I did visit the Witchwood during the consort’s progress.”

The one place you were guaranteed to see chocolate no matter the time of year. Einar had never been to the fanciful palace deep in the woods, but he’d heard plenty of stories. “Well, outside of Inga’s domain, most people only have chocolate for one moon out of the year. We eat it on festival days during the Witching Moon. But my cook assures me that it is bad luck to have any left when the new moons rise on the first day of the Lover’s Moon, so ...”

“Bad luck on a ship? We can’t have that.” Naia turned to Aleksi. “Well, my lord? Are you up to the task?”

“Of eating too much chocolate? Always.” He grinned rakishly. “I helped Inga perfect it, you know.”

“ You invented chocolate?”

“I helped . I was her last resort, you see. Elevia thought it was frivolous, Dianthe salts everything, Ash kept burning it, and Ulric can’t eat the stuff.” He lowered his voice to a seductive rumble. “I was her only hope.”

Naia’s bright laughter filled the cabin, and Einar worked to keep his expression even. Aleksi probably wasn’t even trying to flirt; the Lover couldn’t help if everything he said came out sounding suggestive. Einar certainly shouldn’t give in to the unpleasant stirrings of competitiveness.

There was no hope for him and Naia. She wanted more than he had to offer, and breaking her heart could well break his relationship with Dianthe—or worse. Flirting would be disastrous. He should not think about how her dark eyes sparkled by candlelight, or how the flush of pleasure in her cheeks made him wonder where else she might flush if he—

“There’s also soup,” Einar rumbled, nodding toward the dish he’d placed to the left of her seat. “Fish stew.”

She gasped. “Is it ...?”

“The same,” Aleksi confirmed, betraying Einar cheerfully and with obvious enjoyment. “Einar knows how much you love it, so he had Harlen prepare it just for you.”

Her smile softened, and her expression was almost shy as she met Einar’s gaze. “Did you really?”

Oh, no. Those soft, sweet eyes were the last thing he needed. He’d learned a thousand years ago to avoid anyone who looked at him like some sort of hero out of myth—those were the lovers who built dreams out of a single night and gave their hearts too recklessly. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, and he certainly didn’t want to hurt Naia.

But after last night, it felt so good to see her smiling. And he swore that he could feel the shift in the sea itself, as if a door she’d closed against him had cracked open. The water caressed the hull of his ship again, teasing and playful. Her power, so vast and so deeply a part of her she probably didn’t realize she was doing it.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away, not even to cast Aleksi an irritated glare. And he couldn’t be cruel to her again, not with the song of her humming in his blood. “It was nothing,” he said gruffly. “I remembered that you enjoyed it. Petya does, as well. It’s based on an old family recipe of hers.”

“I’ve missed it,” she whispered. “So thank you.”

Something funny twinged in his chest. Not quite a flutter, not quite an ache, somewhere in the vicinity of his supposedly absent heart. He cleared his throat and looked away. “The flatbread is good, too. Another of Petya’s favorites. Harlen is a much better baker than she is, though.”

“I won’t tell her you said that,” Naia offered as she dished the stew into her bowl. “But you’ll owe me a favor, and I will collect.”

Einar quirked a teasing eyebrow at her as he began to fill his own plate. “First you gambled with my crew, now you’re blackmailing a notorious pirate captain.”

“And I’m just getting started.”

“Who knew Naia would turn out to be such a knave.” Aleksi smiled over his glass of wine. “How does our journey progress, Einar?”

“We’re making better time than expected.” Einar didn’t point out why—either Naia was aware of what she was doing already, or the acknowledgment might make her self-conscious. See? He could be courteous. “We should be traversing the Western Wall within days. If the weather is nice, it’ll be a good time to come up on deck.”

“Will we finally see the arctic whales that Harlen promised me?” Naia asked.

“Hopefully.” He smiled, imagining her joy at watching the majestic creatures surface. “Most people imagine the Western Wall to be barren, but undersea mountains tend to have thriving populations of smaller creatures. That attracts the large predators, of course. You could see a few sharks as well.”

“Perhaps we’ll be lucky and see them all.” Naia winked at Aleksi. “After all, we have the Lover on board for the dark of his moon. That is lucky, indeed.”

“Don’t let the crew pester you too much,” he warned Aleksi. “We’ve never been able to make it to the villa for the first day of the Lover’s Moon, so they’re very excited to have you here.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

If anyone knew how to deflect the attentions of an adoring mass, Einar supposed it was Aleksi. The Lover might be the most beloved figure on the High Court, the only one who attracted veneration untouched by fear. So he accepted Aleksi’s assurances and let the matter drop. “Once we’re past the Western Wall, we should be able to catch the northern current. We may make it to the island within a few days after that, if the weather holds.”

“Good.” Naia unfolded her napkin across her lap. “I’m looking forward to seeing Sachi and Zanya again.”

“Unfortunately, you won’t,” Aleksi told her quietly. “They’ve already decamped for the mainland.”

“Oh.” Naia tilted her head, the speed of her whirling thoughts clear on her face. “So it’s serious, then.”

“I think we can assume so.”

The mission ahead took on a new weight. “And the situation in Akeisa?” Einar asked.

Aleksi met his gaze, but he did not smile. “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?”

Einar’s conscience twinged again. If there had ever been a time to confess the truth of his history with the island, it was now. The proper thing to do was to arm Aleksi with every available bit of information possible. Even if the island had forgotten its own history, there were people on this ship who remembered. Maybe some scrap of knowledge from Petya’s or Jinevra’s childhood could—

No. If there was one thing at which the Empire excelled, it was obliterating the past. The Ice Queen and her Imperial Court would have their own religion, their own customs. Their own world , one where Einar meant less than nothing.

The secrets of his past had no value here. The best thing he could do was look forward. Ash might be forgiving enough to believe that a viper raised to leadership in the Betrayer’s Empire could be an ally, but Einar knew the truth.

You could not trust an Imperial noble. Sooner or later, they’d betray you.

Einar’s job was to make sure that betrayal wouldn’t prove fatal.