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I need to lose a dratted prince…

What a conundrum.

Most women would give anything to marry a prince.

But Seraphina Lyndon, known to friends and family simply as Sera, bent down to pick up a seashell that was clamped shut.

She didn’t want to marry a stranger, regardless of his royal title.

Two halves fitting perfectly together protected something precious inside like an oyster harboring a pearl; that’s what love ought to be—a genuine connection, not the cold arrangement her betrothal promised.

She held the shell to her ear momentarily and then tossed it back into the ocean.

She watched as the ocean spat the shell onto the shore, the waves crashing and leaving white foam across the beach.

Overhead, the sky was a hazy gray, with fog clinging stubbornly to the horizon.

Something far in the distance caught her eye, moving slowly across the horizon.

Sera squinted. Part of a creature emerged from the sea.

A whale!

Excitement bubbled up inside her as she spotted the small tail of a baby whale following close behind.

How extraordinary! Her gaze swept the beach, but, of course, there was nobody.

Alone, she grinned and strolled along the shore, occasionally glancing back at the whale and its calf until they completely disappeared.

The sand was cool and firm beneath her feet, and the occasional splash of water was a welcome relief.

Cornwall’s water was often warm despite the fog, or maybe her love for this place made it feel that way.

If only I could be as free as those whales.

She’d swim far away from this blasted engagement! Engaged since birth to a prince of a foreign land she’d never even visited.

A prince!

Why would she ever want to marry one? It might seem like something from fairy tales, but it was a royal travesty in real life.

First, he’d whisk her away to his distant kingdom, and she’d rarely see her friends and family—only on rare, brief occasions.

Second, there was no fairy tale aspect to it—no love, tender kisses, or romance leading to a happily ever after.

Third, and most importantly, she didn’t even know him.

Sera hadn’t agreed to blindly marry a stranger who would seize control of her life…

but her agreement didn’t seem to matter to her parents.

No, she had to wriggle her way out of this arrangement.

And that’s where her conundrum came from: How could she lose a prince this summer and forge her own life?

The very thought made her stomach twist.

The rules, the restrictions, the life of a princess in some distant European country where she might not even speak the language?

No, thank you! It had been easy to ignore her betrothal—and her betrothed for that matter—as the years passed.

After all, out of sight, out of mind. But now, with the date fast approaching, she could feel the cords of this weighty arrangement pulling tight.

Like a noose around her neck.

He ought to have arrived in England by now, right?

Urgh!

Sera’s feet left fleeting footprints in the sand, soon washed away by the waves, leaving only shallow imprints.

If someone whisked her away to a place she didn’t want to be, would Cornwall forget her?

She traced a line in the sand, wistfully thinking that she’d have to say goodbye to her beloved summers at the beach if she had to live in some faraway region in a distant country.

Did they even have beaches in Transylvania?

Snap out of it, Sera! You are a resourceful woman!

Indeed. All she needed was a plan. Her mind raced through various ways to escape the announcement of her impending engagement. Could the book that Ashley had given her help? What was its name again? Matters of the Heart . She should look for strategies to repel royal fiancés later.

Because one thing was clear like the Cornwall sky: she would not succumb to her parents’ pressure to marry a stranger, no matter how important his family was to her father’s business connections!

That prince would have to drag her away, caged and chained, before she would let him take her from her beloved England!

She walked faster, nearly stomping, as she pressed her feet into the sand to leave a deeper imprint.

She understood that her father had his reasons, but she only wanted a choice—a say in her own life.

However, she couldn’t simply break off this engagement.

Too much was at stake for her family. But if the prince were to end it…

wouldn’t that solve her problem? Then the backlash wouldn’t fall on her family but on his, right?

Sera suddenly laughed.

Yes, she would rid herself of this prince by becoming the most unappealing creature in his world!

Then he would be forced to find another match to take her place.

All she needed to do was figure out how to become the most undesirable prospect for such a man.

She glanced at a large rock formation in the distance, shaped almost like a sleeping bear, resolute and unmoved by the powerful waves crashing against it.

Sera would be that rock! Determination coursed through her as she marched on, her feet pressing deeper into the sand with each step.

She wasn’t about to let some prince dictate her life.

No, she’d ensure he saw her as the most unsuitable bride imaginable!

Sera squinted.

The mist made everything appear like a dreamy watercolor painting against reality. Hah! Much like the view before her, her future seemed just as obscured—uncertain and brimming with possibilities she couldn’t begin to predict.

Who enjoyed predictability anyway?

The waves roared louder as she approached the rock, and she spotted a distant figure on the beach—a young man in breeches and half-clothed, performing some form of peculiar exercise. She watched as he dropped onto his hands, his body a long plank, pushing himself up and down with powerful strokes.

A shiver swept over her as she imagined the strength in those arms.

Shaking her head, something else caught her eye—a seagull fluttering low, so close she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Sera blinked in surprise, watching as it struggled past her, a rusty object dangling from its beak.

Curiosity piqued, she followed the bird’s erratic flight.

It landed on a large rock jutting from the cliff’s edge, its wings tangled in a long, thin thread leading to a metal fishing hook. The sight tugged at her heartstrings.

Poor thing!

Without thinking, she rushed over and clambered up the low slope of rock, edging around to the part of the rock that disappeared into the sea.

She glanced down at the waves crashing up the rock.

Perhaps this was not a good idea, but she refused to turn back now after having come this far, so, once close enough, she reached out to free the struggling bird. But as she neared, the seagull fluttered away, just out of reach again.

Frustration bubbled up inside her. “I’m trying to help you!”

The bird settled higher up on the rock, and Sera tracked it further. She carefully maneuvered closer, reaching out again. She tried to catch the thrashing bird, but it was always just out of reach. Another seagull flew past her, its cry almost in her ear, as if warning her away from its friend.

Her foot slipped.

Sera cried out, losing her balance on the precarious edge of the rock she held.

Only then did she realize she’d scaled almost completely around the formation, farther and farther away from the beach.

No! Her fingers dug in deep as she tried to regain her footing, but the world around her tilted, and in a blur, she tumbled into the icy waters below.

A cry left her lips.

Only one thought filled her head.

I can’t swim…

*

Prince Alexander von Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen stood on the beach, gazing at the waves crashing against the English shore.

England had always felt foreign to him, a place he had only known through detached discussions at court.

Yet, he hadn’t crossed the channel to appreciate its customs. His purpose was far more pressing: locating his younger brother, Prince Stan, whose diplomatic mission in England had stirred rumors that their family could not ignore.

In truth, Alex hoped to delay his search for Stan as his brother had sent reports of various difficulties—none of which Alex wanted to consider.

Pressing matters, particularly those concerning lifelong partners, led him to seek out Miss Lyndon, the wealthy merchant’s daughter, his betrothed since age four.

He had never met her, or any member of her family for that matter.

Economic significance had necessitated the match, and at four and twenty, he was prepared to fulfill his duty.

They may not hail from aristocratic circles, but they are richer and more resourceful than anyone I have ever met , his mother had said before he left Vienna three months ago.

He wondered whether Miss Lyndon had been raised to embrace the role expected of her—the role of a princess.

Yet, he knew that elevating a woman into aristocracy was no easy task.

And royalty? That came with its own set of expectations and challenges.

Would Miss Lyndon suit him? The fact that he was marrying a commoner was remarkable in itself.

That his parents allowed it. Anything for business.

Another point of question, would he be suitable for her? Did that even matter, given that marriage was a decision made for them? He was a prince, expected to command, to search, to succeed. But beneath all the swath was just a man.

Yet he was determined to embrace his duty.

I must prove myself.

It was expected of him to prove himself.

Returning with Stan and a wife would accomplish that to a degree.

It would prove he was capable. It would prove his unwavering sense of duty.

It would prove him worthy of the title of prince .

Of course, he knew little about Miss Lyndon, but it was entirely possible she could be the anchor he needed to return to his home country with solid shipping influence, especially since his brother required his support in conflicts with the Prussians.

Still, Alex had lived in Vienna since University, and he wasn’t ready to return to Bran Castle empty-handed.

For now, he was at the beach.

The shore of England spread before him like an uncharted map, and his mission was to chart its course—starting with Miss Lyndon. Then he would find Stan to confront him with whatever truths had led him to flee.

He lifted his face to the sky and inhaled deeply.

He loved the smell of the ocean.

How could he not, growing up in the countryside at Bran Castle, surrounded by the lush landscape of the Carpathian Mountains. Rivers were lovely, but the ocean was a whole different kind of wonderful.

Cold water lapped at his toes as he stepped onto the damp edge of the shore. He’d discarded his boots some yards back; if he was lucky, the sea wouldn’t swallow them by the time he returned.

His hotel valet might throttle him otherwise.

His gaze followed the endless expanse of the ocean, the sound of the waves, a symphony that could almost lull one into a trance-like state.

Perhaps the possibilities in England were as vast as its blue sea in Cornwall.

He raised his arms over his head, stretching out the muscles that had just had a thorough workout.

The beach here felt like a slice of heaven.

Just then, a flash of white in the water caught his eye.

The fog hadn’t entirely lifted, so he squinted, trying to discern the shape. A slender arm. Panic shot through him as he realized it must be a child or a woman.

Why weren’t they swimming?

The head suddenly vanished beneath the surface.

With a surge of urgency, Alex sprinted toward the water.

The head resurfaced, but the person’s flailing limbs made their desperation clear.

His heart thundered as he dashed into the waves, the chill biting into him as he waded deeper.

Only that person mattered at the moment.

He was certain if he didn’t get to them soon, they’d been swept into the ocean and beyond his reach.

Purpose sharpened in his mind. He wouldn’t let someone drown, not while he was capable of acting.

He dove into the waves and swam, the cold seizing his muscles, but he pushed through the resistance, each stroke carrying a purpose, each heartbeat a countdown, and each breath a reminder of the stakes.

It didn’t take that long to reach the person—a woman.

“Hold on!” he shouted.

His fingers found her arm, and he pulled her up against his body. Her fingers bit into him momentarily before they went slack.

Please, no!

Had she lost consciousness?

Alex’s arm wrapped around her waist, her body slight and delicate under his grip.

Dark hair clung to her cheeks as he kicked toward the shore, her weight almost lifeless against the pull of the sea tide.

The shore seemed torturously distant, each stroke bringing exhaustion as much as progress. But he refused to falter.

Just a little longer.

Finally, his feet struck sand, and they washed out, sprawling onto the shore, the woman on top of him.

He lay there for a moment, catching his breath before he rolled over, settling her on her back while he rose to his knees, his fingers shaking as he searched for a pulse.

Alex placed his ear near her mouth, relief flooding him at the faint wisps of breath.

His training, both in Vienna and from his youth, kicked in, and he began chest compressions, his movements steady and deliberate.

If there was any water in her lungs, it needed to be addressed.

He pressed his lips against hers and blew air into her lungs.

“Come on,” he urged. “Let it all count.”

She let out a strangled cough.

He pushed her hair back from her face. “That’s it, cough it all up.”

Her eyes suddenly fluttered open, and Alex found himself gazing into a set of startling green eyes, and it felt as though he was the one submerged in water.

Had he just saved a siren?