LITMIR.BIZ

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Annemette made her choice? What did she sacrifice to come here? Or better yet, who? No, no, I cannot believe my dear sister would harm anyone, even to achieve her greatest desire. Annemette was driven by revenge, my sister by love—or so she thinks.

      Alia begins dancing again, and the crowd settles back into watching her—all but two boys, who manage to break away and walk onto the balcony. At first, I think I can stay still and unseen, but then they keep walking, all the way over into the corner right above where I’ve stationed myself.

      Of course.

      Careful not to let my tail make too much of a splash, I pull my body as far under the latticed balcony as possible, winding my fingers around the arcing pole that holds it up, taking care that my hands don’t show.

      One boy is tall, one is short, and both will be a huge problem if they happen to see me. But it seems to me as if they don’t want to be seen themselves—their voices are low, gestures short.

      “How many now?” the tall one asks, a handsome smile turning up at the corners of flushed cheeks.

      “The numbers are fresh to me as of last evening,” says the short boy, his hawkish features bending hard with each whisper. “Five U-boats.”

      I try to process a word I’ve not heard before. U-boat.

      “Shhh,” the tall boy says, nearly smacking the short one across the mouth. “Do not use that word.”

      “Oh, right, sorry,” the short boy replies. “Look, I know it’s not encouraging news, Will, but it’s what I have.”

      Will nods at this too. “Good work, Phillip. Thank you. The contract will be complete as of tomorrow.” His eyes search the waters. “My uncle—”

      Suddenly, Will cuts off and plasters a smile back on his lips. His whole voice changes, and he plants a hand gamely on the short boy’s shoulder, his broad back to the ocean now. “What a delight that your parents are making their way here, Phillip! It has been ages since I’ve danced with your darling mother.”

      It’s just then that I see Niklas striding their way. He’s got the audacity to wear a slender crown atop his head and more jewelry too—a brooch, cufflinks of shining gold, even a ring of blood-red stones that burn despite the weak light. I have a strong suspicion that this boy loves to collect shiny objects, my graceful sister being just the latest.

      “Ah, Will! I thought that was you, sneaking in the back and stealing kringle!” Niklas chides, doing more than simply clapping the tall boy on the shoulder—instead he brings him in all the way for a real embrace.

      When they part, guilt flashes across Will’s features. “There are some things I’ve never been able to outgrow, my friend, and kringle is one of them.”

      I angle myself a bit more so that I can see Niklas as he talks to his friends, but it’s then that another person comes into view. Alia. She places a hand on Niklas’s arm.

      “Oh, boys, this is my foundling. Isn’t she lovely? Did you see her dance?”

      The boys nod as Niklas gives her a little twirl and she falls into him with a ridiculous smile. She’s been topside for a day, and there’s already more color in her cheeks, though I suppose that might be Niklas’s doing more than the work of the September sun. “You’ve heard the story, of course, haven’t you? I’m sure it’s all the gossip. I found her yesterday on the beach during my usual walk at dawn. All torn up from a shipwreck and no voice. Lucky to be here, I’ll say. Now she’s my guest, and quite the dancer.” He pats Alia’s hand. “Things worked out just fine, didn’t they, my dear?”

      No voice? Relief floods over me—she gave up her voice instead of a life. But how? That doesn’t even make sense. And why would she give up her voice? How can he fall in love with her if he doesn’t even know her name? Wait, she could write it, couldn’t she? Surely. But she would have if she could, right? The questions tumble over themselves as the pleasantries continue.

      “Please meet Phillip—a distant cousin on my mother’s side,” he says, pointing to the shorter boy. “And Will, who I’ve known since boyhood, but, I don’t know—can I still call you friend, or is cousin now more appropriate?”

      Alia’s slippered feet move just so as she curtsies for the boys.

      “Oh, cousins. Don’t let formalities confuse you, my lady,” Will says. “Even though it won’t be official for two more days, who cares? We’ll be cousins for the rest of our lives.” Will laughs, and I hate that I like the sound of it. “Why not start now?”

      “Fine, cousin, then,” Niklas agrees.

      They laugh, once again too jovial as Alia looks from Niklas to Will and back, clearly confused. The joy crumbles from Niklas’s face, and suddenly my lungs stutter themselves shut as I comprehend what would make these boys cousins.

      Blood. Or oh, no.

      As it hits me, the boys must realize it too and excuse themselves on the pretense of wanting coffee. When they’re gone, Niklas removes Alia’s hand from his arm, clutching her fingers sweetly.

      “Dearest,” he starts, taking a deep breath almost as if he cares, “I am to be married the day after tomorrow.”

      Alia’s face falls. Her other hand grips his arm so tight, her fingers wrinkle the starched fabric of his tea jacket. My heart feels as if it’s in her vise grip, too.

      “Though it’s only been a day, I … I feel like I know you. It’s strange, this kinship that we have—both of us lost as sea. Washing ashore on the same beach, some miracle, my little foundling.”

      Alia nods, close to him, a look on her lovely face so pure that it says a thousand of the words she cannot. Willing him to see. Willing him to know that he does know her. That she saved him. That it wasn’t an act of his God that rescued him from the wreck that drowned his brothers and father; it was her.

      I hold my breath as I feel it coming. He’s leaning into her and she’s still clutching him for dear life, looking up to him with eyes that contain whole oceans of blue, her lips and cheeks rosy from dancing.

       Yes. Kiss her. Please, kiss her.

      For the magic to work, she needs true love’s kiss—all the stories have been the same.

      Their lips touch, and my arms give way as I slide down the pole from relief. It’s short, and sweet—but I realize before it’s over that it’s not enough.

      There’s no magic to it. It’s not transformative in the least. Whatever spell Alia has found to give her legs, this kiss doesn’t have the power to keep her on two feet.

      Too quickly they’re apart again, all of it rushing back to Niklas—the surroundings, the people just steps away in the dance hall, what he is bound to do in two days.

      “I’m sorry. I’m king now, and a king’s duty is to his people. With my father and my brothers departed … it’s up to me to do what’s best. There are so many uncertain things about the world right now …” He trails off, and I can only imagine how the war would affect a kingdom like this. “But what is certain is that despite what’s going on, I need to make the right decisions for Havnestad. And the right decision for a new king is to ensure the continuation of the monarchy.”

      Continuation of the monarchy. Anger singes my veins as my breath grows short. His monarchy would be dead if it weren’t for the girl right in front of him.

      The king weaves his fingers tightly in Alia’s. “But please, please stay. Sofie will love you—I’m sure of it.”

      Sofie. I hate her name already.

      He smiles softly. “Perhaps you can be one of her ladies and stay here as long as you wish.”

      Yes, yes, I was right—this boy just likes to collect things. His foundling on the beach. Now his dancing girl in the castle. There to entertain

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