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Until recently, information about the so-called High Court of Dreamers said to rule over the primitive continent to our west was difficult to obtain. Imperial scholars all agreed that whatever powers these so-called gods might possess, they paled in comparison to the might of the Imperial Court. Having now met the Lover, I must state definitively that Imperial scholars were gravely mistaken.

Untitled Manuscript in Progress

by Guildmaster Klement

Naia had the nicest cabin on the ship.

It was spacious, as far as these things went, and well-appointed. A large berth fitted with a soft feather mattress lined one side of the room, while a desk and chest of drawers, both of dark, exquisitely carved wood, sat on the other side. The walls had been covered with thick paper in a rich blue hue striped with gold leaf, and the little luxuries scattered about were of a quality—and quantity—usually reserved for the captain of a vessel.

Or very important guests. This was the cabin Dianthe used when she traveled on the Kraken. The Siren’s sigil, a cresting wave, was everywhere—carved into the head of the berth, inlaid into the top of the desk in mother-of-pearl, embossed onto the leather cover of a handbound journal that rested on one of the shelves. It was even embroidered on the corner of the bed’s coverlet.

Naia had counted fourteen tastefully discreet uses of the sigil throughout the room, and she was fairly certain she’d spotted them all, since she’d mostly remained in this room for the last two days.

She wasn’t avoiding Einar. She simply wasn’t seeking him out.

The lie drew her gaze back to the bed. The maddening sailor had managed to proposition and reject her in the same breath. It shouldn’t have seemed possible, yet he’d done it several times now. Einar was like that—one moment, he would casually invite her to join him for a romp in his cabin, and the next, would be so carefully solicitous of her comfort that it felt like being singled out with special regard.

And so it went, up and down, back and forth. He could be cool toward her, detached. Then he would serve her favorite dish at dinner—though she suspected he didn’t much care for it. A less charitable person might have proclaimed that Einar was a changeable wind, blowing hot and cold.

For her part, Naia was mostly confused. A little dizzy. Who was he, truly? A ne’er-do-well pirate who lived only for the simple pleasures of cold drinks and warm bodies? A dedicated servant of the Siren, waging unflagging war against the Empire and all its evils? Achingly competent commander of the greatest ship—and crew—to ever sail the North Sea? Perhaps he was all of those things ... and none.

And what did he want with her? From her? There was what he professed ... and then there was the way he looked at her sometimes, with a softness and wonder that she recognized not from her own experience, but from the memories of others. From eons of distantly remembered longing and love affairs.

No, that would not do. Ascribing to Einar desires that he had not expressed was folly. He had told her what he wanted, all he wanted, and she had no choice but to take him at his word. In Einar’s mind, the undeniable physical attraction between them merely warranted a bit of carnal indulgence—enjoyable but ultimately ephemeral, and quickly set aside.

And she was tempted. Oh, was she tempted. There was nothing wrong with exploration, with casual pleasure motivated only by lust and curiosity and fondness, unencumbered by doubts and expectations for the future. But when Naia contemplated sharing a single night with Einar, one emotion thrummed in her chest more strongly than the others, a caged bird beating its wings against her bones.

Sadness.

That really wouldn’t do. But it was all Einar seemed capable of offering her, hence the reason she’d spent the last few days staring at the walls of her fancy cabin ... and trying very hard not to ponder its soft bed and silk sheets.

Had he given her this cabin because she was serving as Dianthe’s emissary? Or had he been thinking about Naia and those damned sheets?

She had just returned to pacing the plush carpet when the muffled sound of a bell drifted down from abovedecks. It had happened several times during the voyage—once, when a passing ship’s captain hailed them to deliver news from the Empire, and again when the third mate had spotted a pod of whales and thought everyone might like to see them.

Naia grabbed a thick woolen cloak. She was already dressed more warmly than usual, in heavy layers of embroidered velvet, but the sea air had been especially frigid ever since they’d passed Dead Man Shoals. If she were human, even the soft wool might not protect her from the cold.

She hurried up to the foredeck. Aleksi stood there, his arms crossed, the chilly breeze tousling his hair. Naia followed his gaze out—and stopped where she stood.

They had reached Akeisa. Its icy shores spread out before them, rocky and barren, dotted with cliffside dwellings as well as fishing huts. In the distance, the incongruously delicate spires of the Grand Duchess’s palace rose from the snowy landscape to pierce the clear blue sky.

The parts she could see were built of white stone, enormous columns topped with ornate domes that had been painted or otherwise decorated with bold colors and delicate panes of glass. It was breathtaking, and she would have strained to see more.

Except that a wall of ice stretched in front of the ship, blocking the mouth of the harbor.

“A warm welcome,” Aleksi observed dryly.

“A warning,” Einar rumbled behind them. “The Empire has always liked its ruthless displays of strength. The Imperial lackeys will make us wait on their pleasure just to teach us our place.”

Aleksi seemed to ponder that, then turned to Naia. “What do you think?”

She thought both Aleksi’s sarcastic observation and Einar’s assessment were accurate. Worse, she thought the Empire’s assumption was that the ship would have no choice but to wait. That this new representative of the Sheltered Lands would be powerless in the face of such might.

And she didn’t like that one bit.

“There are several possible explanations,” she said finally.

“A circumspect answer,” Aleksi shot back. “Very diplomatic.”

“Very honest .” Naia shrugged. “It could be an oversight. We have made excellent time, and are arriving ahead of schedule. It could also be a slight, a display of power wrapped in a sly insult directed at you. Or ...”

His eyes gleamed. “Yes?”

Naia’s pulse quickened. “It could be a test.”

“All valid interpretations, and ultimately unimportant.” He pursed his lips. “The real question is ... what will you do about it?”

Startled, Naia very nearly took a step back. “Me?”

He hummed. “Yes, you.”

Her heart continued its lively dance, driven not by surprise or fear but ... anticipation? Because Aleksi was right. Why this wall stood before them was incidental. They could never truly know the answer, nor could they change it. All that was left was to decide their next move.

“We mean to enter the harbor, yet a wall of ice blocks our way,” she answered. “So we should remove it.”

“Tear it down?” Aleksi asked lightly. “Just like that?”

Naia met his gaze. “Just like that.”

He stepped back, gesturing to her with a flourish. Einar clenched his fingers and opened his mouth, but said nothing when Aleksi laid a hand on his arm.

Naia swallowed hard as she stepped forward. Indignation burned in her middle, a hard knot that tempted her to lash out in anger. Instead, she breathed deeply, held her arms out to her sides, and called the water.

It rumbled and roiled, rolling up the sides of the ship until it washed past the railings and onto the main deck in sheets. The crew’s protests died as Naia drew the water closer, keeping it away from the vulnerable hatches and the others standing on deck.

She closed her eyes as the icy water converged on her, surrounding her in its freezing grasp. Instead of waiting for her whispered instructions, it washed over her, caressing her skin, the way one might embrace a beloved friend. The droplets seeped into her, until she had become one with the sea.

The ice imprisons us, she murmured. Wash it away.

The water surged back over the railings, leaving behind dry wood and Naia, alone and bereft, as it swirled back into the sea.

For a moment, nothing. Then a chorus of dull crackling noises filled the air, punctuated by sharp pops. Naia opened her eyes in time to see cracks begin to form in the ice wall, dark shadows snaking up its length until great sheets of it began to break apart. Waves buffeted the ship as those giant chunks of ice slipped beneath the water’s surface, once more subsumed by the sea.

Silence reigned as the unobstructed harbor revealed itself.

“Well,” Aleksi breathed. “You are handy to have around, aren’t you?”

Naia tried to exhale, but her breath left her on a shuddering sigh. The power of the ocean still flowed through her, trapped by flesh and bone too restrictive and delicate to contain it. It seethed within her, desperate in a way she couldn’t understand, couldn’t control—

“Relax.” Aleksi’s fingers slid into her hair and cupped the back of her head, comforting and commanding, all at once. “And breathe.”

It took several moments, three pounding heartbeats that she counted off in agonized silence, before she was able to nod in his grip. “I’m fine.”

Two more heartbeats, and he released her. “Good.”

The sudden crack of Einar’s voice shattered the quiet. “What possessed you to do something so reckless?” he snarled, stalking closer with a wild look in his dark eyes. “The sea is too powerful! She could sweep you away. You should not endanger yourself like that just to make a point!”

The fear in his voice felt like biting on metal, and Naia’s chest ached as she reached for him. She touched his face, stroking away his stormy frown. But the ache only bloomed , replacing everything else with a sweet, familiar pain.

Her voice echoed in her ears as she soothed him. “You always worry too much.”

“I don’t—” He froze when the words brushed his lips against her fingertips. His entire body went rigid, and something stirred behind those eyes—not so dark anymore, but electric, the way they looked when he used his power.

The way they looked when she tested his control.

The moment ended as he shuddered and tore away, jabbing a finger in Aleksi’s direction. “Keep her from getting herself killed,” he growled, already storming off.

Einar shouted orders, instructing his crew to take them into harbor as he once more took the wheel. Naia stood, unsure of what to do until Aleksi grasped her hand.

“You scared him a bit, love,” he murmured. “Doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. Now—are you ready to face the Empire again?”

The words worked as he so obviously intended—to remind Naia of the stakes of their mission. She squared her shoulders and looked up at him. “This? Is just a friendly visit.”

“Precisely.”

Grand Duchess Gwynira waited for them on the docks, which were constructed of white stone and weathered gray wood. She was flanked by a smiling man with pale-blond hair and refined clothing and a hulking man, handsome but severe, clad in leather and metal armor.

A diplomat and a guard, no doubt. There were others on the docks, workers and a handful of courtiers that whispered as the gangplank was lowered and Aleksi, Naia, and Einar disembarked. Only Gwynira stood, unmoving, her face frozen in an expressionless mask.

Like stone, Naia thought. Like ice.

She did not come to meet them, instead forcing them to cross the entire distance from the end of the docks. Only when they reached her, making their bows and curtsies, did she finally speak.

“Welcome to Akeisa.” Her voice rang out like the cracking of the ice wall. “I hope the rest of your sojourn on our lovely island will not be as needlessly aggressive as your arrival.”

Naia tensed. Shit.

But Aleksi only smiled warmly. “My apologies, Grand Duchess, for the dramatic entrance. I was led to believe we were expected.”

“You were.” A pointed silence. “In several days’ time.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? We enjoyed fair winds and calm seas for the duration of our journey.”

“Of course.” Gwynira smiled, a chilly, scant movement of her lips, and turned to Naia. “I remember you.”

The last time they had faced each other had been on the battlefield, during the High Court’s final confrontation with the Betrayer. Gwynira had been the first of Sorin’s court to take to the field for close combat, and Naia and Einar had fought hard to keep her ice magic from overwhelming the others. It had taken all of their combined might to keep her distracted and at bay. “I remember you, as well, Grand Duchess.”

Gwynira tilted her head. “It seems you’ve been practicing.”

“Yes. I realized I needed to improve my skills.” She paused, then gave credit where credit was due. “ You taught me that.”

This time, Gwynira’s smile thawed a little, and she chuckled quietly. “Fair enough. Lord Aleksi, Lady Naia, and Captain Einar, all of the Sheltered Lands. This is Sir Jaspar Astile, my seneschal. And Arktikos, my personal guard.” Her introductions complete, she turned for the palace courtyard. “You’ll be wanting to rest, of course. Sir Jaspar will show you to your rooms.”

She vanished through an archway, trailed closely by her guard, leaving her seneschal to smile broadly at them. “Shall we?” He offered Naia his arm, and she took it without thought.

Sir Jaspar led them through another entrance, and Naia seized the opportunity to study the architecture more closely. The stone exterior gave way to wooden beams and hammered metal. These items seemed to be used decoratively as well as part of the structure itself, creating a uniformity that she had not expected but found pleasing to the eye.

Then Naia did a double take. What she’d assumed from a distance were panes of glass were actually sheets of ice. They had been placed into the curving casements just like windows, and Naia had to marvel at the amount of sheer power it must have taken Gwynira to do this. Not to create the ice, but to have it persist without constant conscious effort.

She shivered.

“Are you cold, Lady Naia?” the seneschal asked, though he did not wait for a response. “I’ll have the steward arrange for ample fuel in your quarters, and extra furs for your bed.”

“Thank you, Sir Jaspar.”

“Just Jaspar, please.” His smile widened. “We shall be great friends, with no need to stand on ceremony.”

Judging from the slightly dazzled way he was looking at her, becoming Naia’s friend wasn’t necessarily his primary goal. Still, he kept his attentions respectful, even when he covered her hand with his and patted it lightly.

Behind them, Aleksi smothered a cough. Einar simply glowered.

“Now,” Jaspar murmured. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Everything, of course.”

This time, Aleksi’s muffled sound was definitely a laugh .

Naia shot him a sharp look. As she did, she noticed two young women outfitted as maids hovering at the end of a cross hall, whispering to one another. When they saw they’d drawn her notice, they paled and broke apart, vanishing out of sight.

Why had Naia immediately chosen the boldest, showiest option when faced with that damnable wall of ice? Now she had to deal with whispering servants, a starry-eyed admirer, and—worst of all—a suspicious hostess.

A grand start to their diplomatic mission.