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“ W hat’s the use of being a Seer,” Rosana muttered as she jogged into the icy bay, “if you can’t See your own freaking future?”

She hadn’t had a hint the fae were coming. They could’ve been in the room before she’d known they were there. Why couldn’t she have a useful Gift, like being a healer?

“You don’t choose your Gift. It chooses you. Lucky us.” She could almost see Colm’s mouth twisting in a self-mocking smile. “And you know Seers almost never See what lies ahead for themselves.”

Colm had drilled several truths about being a Seer into her. Colm’s Rules, she called them.

Rule 1: A Seer almost never Sees his or her own future.

Rule 2: The Sight is unpredictable. You can train it, but it’s like trying to ride a tiger. You never know when it will turn on you.

Rule 3: Belief is as important as skill. To free your Sight, you must believe in its essential truth.

Freaking rules. As far as she could tell, being a Seer was worthless. People were wary of you, and they didn’t want to listen to you even when you knew you were right.

You couldn’t even use your Gift to save yourself. If Ula had Seen that King Sindre was laying a trap for her and Nisio, they wouldn’t have left on that trip across the ocean and Rosana wouldn’t have grown up without her parents.

She gave a hard kick and let the change take her.

Magic shimmered over her skin. For a timeless few moments, she was neither human nor dolphin, but colorful fragments of light and energy.

Then her legs fused, became a tail. Her face elongated into a river dolphin’s beak, and her arms became flippers.

She sucked air through her blowhole and with a powerful thrust of her tail, skimmed through the midnight sea. She was Rosana, and yet not Rosana.

Stronger, more supple. Wild. Free.

She remained beneath the surface for several minutes, not resurfacing until she was a few hundred yards out, the shoreline curving behind her in a giant C.

Ahead, the flash of the Harbor of Refuge Light marked Cape Henlopen and the Delaware Bay’s western boundary.

The Breakwater Lighthouse was a little before it, but unlike its sister lighthouse, it was dark, having been decommissioned years ago.

She set out for the Point on a path parallel to the shore.

That had been a night fae on the balcony. Or maybe the woman was a mixed-blood, because Rosana had never heard of a pureblood night fae with blond hair.

Fear tripped up her spine.

Somehow, that woman was connected to her vision. Nothing else made sense. But how?

She knew Prince Langdon was out for blood. His only living son, Tyrus, had gone missing last June after attacking Adric’s clan. The Baltimore fada had clammed up about what really happened, but everyone knew Tyrus was dead, with Adric the chief suspect.

But without proof, Langdon had done nothing. Yet.

Still, Adric wasn’t the type to wait around for the prince to attack. If he thought Langdon was a threat, he’d strike first.

But when? And more importantly, how could she stop it?

If only she knew more.

She gave a frustrated swish of her tail. Helpless, and hating it.

If what she’d Seen was true—and she’d never had such a clear, detailed vision before—Adric was going after Langdon soon.

And he’d die.

The swim to the Point took about fifteen minutes. Rosana navigated with sweeps of her sonar, emitting sound and interpreting the echoes: the curved shape of the shore line; the fishing pier that jutted into the water; a school of Atlantic croakers; a shipwreck dating to the 1700s.

A stack of huge granite slabs loomed before her, the half-mile-long breakwater that gave the lighthouse its name. She surfaced on the inner side of the breakwater a safe distance from the rugged slabs. The sky above was clear, the stars white pinpricks in its dark cloth.

She scanned the beach. No sign of Adric.

She slapped her tail against the water a couple of times. The breakwater blocked the Atlantic to form a calm, quiet harbor. If he was nearby, he’d hear her.

She waited a minute and then smacked the water with her tail again.

Still no Adric.

Her stomach clenched.

Stop worrying. The man’s an alpha. A big cat with teeth and claws.

A pod of three wild female bottlenoses appeared, drawn by the commotion. They were larger than Rosana’s six-foot length, but friendly. They greeted her with a mixture of squawks, whistles and clicks.

Rosana replied in their language, and they circled her.

Who, who who? whistled the eldest female, a motherly sort with small, wise eyes.

Visitor , Rosana replied. I mean you no harm.

Why, why why? the motherly bottlenose asked.

Meeting a friend. But he’s not here. Worried.

Sorry… We wait.

Their bodies brushed hers, offering comfort.

For the next quarter hour, the four of them swam back and forth in front of the lighthouse until Rosana had to face facts. Either Adric had been captured, or he’d returned to the B&B to sniff around some more. It was what her brothers would’ve done.

The smart thing, the safe thing, would be to head farther out to sea. No one but another water fada could track her in the ocean, and with the head start she’d had, even a shark would have trouble scenting her.

But fuck being safe. If Adric had been captured, it was three against one, and at least two of the others were fae.

Not just any fae. A night fae.

Damn, damn, damn. She didn’t want to go back. She wanted to get as far away as possible from that scary bitch and her henchmen.

But there really wasn’t a choice. She wished the wild dolphins a polite farewell and whipped around to head back to Lewes.