When Tal emerged from the castle, his brothers and sisters at his side, the crowd that greeted them was far larger than what he had expected for the short notice. Rumor had spread quickly. The courtyard was packed to the brim; the only clear space was the path for the carriage to take Vanessa from their home back to her own kingdom and to her brother, who was, in Emerick’s words, quite angry. Knights and soldiers ringed the perimeter, guarding the royal family, and courtiers and nobles filled the empty spaces behind Tal’s family, milling about to watch the spectacle. With the keep’s doors flung wide, people from the village flocked in, and they whispered behind their hands as they saw Tal in the line of his siblings, very much alive, if not worse for the wear.
Standing at the top of the stone steps, surveying the courtyard packed with hundreds of onlookers, Tal was filled with a kind of dread he hadn’t experienced before, the kind that he’d been fortunate to avoid, sequestered away all the years prior.
“You look like you’re going to faint,” Kest said from Tal’s right, voice dipped low.
Tal glanced at him. “So do you.”
“Well, I was shot with an arrow a few days ago.”
“Good point.”
Kest huffed a laugh at the unintentional pun. “Is everything all right?”
No. It wasn’t. Athlen was hurting. The sea witch’s magic was failing. His debt was due. And he wouldn’t allow Tal to pay it, even if he could.
“Nervous,” Tal said in reply.
Kest nudged him. “I’m right here. As are Isa and Garrett and Corrie. You’re not alone.”
“I know.”
Corrie elbowed him, and he shot her a glare. She jerked her chin, and Tal spotted Athlen slipping from the doors behind them, joining the gathering of castle residents at their backs. He looked awful, his skin translucent save for the feverish bright spots on his cheeks. His hair was wild and untamed from Tal running his fingers through it, and he hobbled and grimaced with each movement.
“What did you do?” Corrie whispered with the bite of accusation.
Tal frowned. “It’s none of your business. Pay attention to what’s happening in front of you.”
A murmur ran through the crowd as Queen Carys stepped through the castle arches. Her crown sparkled in the sunlight, as did the swords of the knights on either side of her. Chin lifted, shoulders back, her dress flowing behind her as she walked, she was the picture of royalty—steel and grace personified.
Tal straightened his own posture as she took her place over the proceedings.
A hush fell over the crowd as his mother spoke. She talked of the treason, of Tal’s kidnapping and presumed death, of Kest’s injury by a failed assassin. She spoke of the evidence against Princess Vanessa of Ossetia and her handmaiden.
She didn’t speak of magic or mermen.
After the queen finished, guards brought Vanessa from the castle, her wrists clapped in iron chains, her hair unkempt, her dress tattered and dirty. The crowd greeted her with jeers and rotten fruit.
Corrie laughed when a tomato hit Vanessa in the cheek.
Tal’s stomach churned at the parade as she was trotted out and humiliated. His skin crawled with every taunt, the memories of his time on Zeph’s ship still fresh.
The guards paused at the doorway to the carriage and waited for the queen to grant permission for the prisoner to board.
“Any words before you depart?” she asked, a courtesy, a chance for Vanessa to begin healing the rift between their kingdoms.
“Yes, Your Grace. I would like to express my apologies to the prince,” Vanessa said thinly, the words ground out. Her smile was more a grimace, but she inclined her head in Tal’s direction primly, deliberately.
The queen narrowed her eyes. “Very well.”
Tal descended, leaving his family at the top of the stone stairs, and the small crowd dispersed around him, the way a school of fish react to a shark. He stopped at the bottom.
“I am sorry,” she said, eyes glittering, “that I didn’t kill you myself.”
Tal was not surprised. “You’ve lost,” he said evenly. “I survived. My family survived. And we’re stronger for it.”
“Yes, you did, unfortunately,” Vanessa breathed, features twisted in a snarl reminiscent of that of her maid. Her voice dropped to the sound of a breath. “What will all these people do when they find out what you are? Do you think your mother can stop the other kingdoms when they storm in to kill you? To take you away? No. She cannot, and your magic will be your family’s downfall.”
“I’m not hiding anymore. I’m not afraid.”
“You should be. People fear what they don’t understand. Fear becomes hatred so easily.”
Vanessa wasn’t wrong. He and his family were at the beginning of a hard few months as the political landscape changed and Tal’s magic became known, but they had one another. “I have my family.”
Vanessa’s expression hardened, and her sharp gaze cut to the carriage that awaited her. “Yes, they’ve already killed for you once.” She clenched her jaw. “I’m certain they will again.”
Tal stiffened.
“I’m not usually so petty,” she said, lifting her chin. “But you took someone from me. It’s only fair I return the favor. A sister should do.”
Tal’s blood ran cold. He followed her line of sight to a turret and caught the glint of the sun on an arrow tip.
“Isa! Corrie! Get down!”
He couldn’t move fast enough. He thrust his hand out and released a blaze of fire, but he merely singed the arrow as it thrummed through the air.
Chaos erupted. Women screamed. Guards swarmed. The knights swept the queen away into the castle and tried to corral Tal, blocking his view of the stairs, where the rest of his family stood. He fought through them, pushing people aside, shouting orders until they parted, and Tal ran to the steps.
He skidded to a halt, heart seizing. Blood spattered the stone. Corrie screamed, hysterical, blood spray across her face, pinned to the ground, Athlen sprawled across her.
“He pushed me,” she sobbed. “He pushed me.”
Athlen.
Tal gained his senses and vaulted up the steps, meeting Garrett at the top. Garrett slid Corrie from beneath the limp weight of Athlen, then passed her off to a guard standing by, and they both dropped to Athlen’s side.
Tal’s world narrowed, his senses fuzzing out save for those focused on Athlen, the absolute chaos around him mere background noise. The bolt was as brittle as ash from traveling through Tal’s magic fire, smoke curling around the wooden shaft. But the head of the arrow had struck true and lodged deeply in Athlen’s chest. Blood bubbled around the wound, slowly spreading across the fabric of Athlen’s shirt. Tal’s signet ring lay in the hollow of Athlen’s throat, the gold chain coiled around his pale neck, a rivulet of blood pooled in the dip of his collarbones, staining the emerald crimson.
“No,” Tal breathed, hands fluttering over Athlen’s body splayed across the stone, limp as a doll. “No. No. No. Athlen?”
His eyes were half open but staring at nothing. Tal gripped Athlen’s hand in both of his own, pulling it to his chest.
“Athlen, please. Garrett? Do something. Can you do something?”
Garrett’s expression was grim as he tapped Athlen’s cheek with his thick, calloused fingers. “Come on,” he said. “Come back for a moment before you go to your rest.”
His words shivered down Tal’s body. Come back to say good-bye. Garrett’s words confirmed what Tal feared—it was a mortal wound. For all the magic that lived under his skin, for all the power that inhabited his body, he couldn’t defend against a single arrow, he couldn’t rewind time, he couldn’t save Athlen from bleeding out from a sharp point of metal.
Athlen blinked sluggishly, eyes roving until they settled on Tal, gaze slowly focusing.
“Tal?”
Tal squeezed Athlen’s hand. “Yes. I’m here. I’m here. Why did you do that? Why would you do that?” He brought Athlen’s knuckles to his lips, tears slipping from his eyes and cutting tracks through the blood staining Athlen’s fingers.
“For you. Your family.” He grimaced. “Had to leave anyway.” Each word was a labor, stuttering out of him in tortured gasps. “Bargain…” He trailed off, coughing, red bubbling in the crease of his lips.
These were the last moments between them, and Tal wouldn’t be plagued by their argument from that morning. He shook his head. “No. Please. Athlen. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Athlen’s fingers spasmed in Tal’s hand. “Beloved,” he murmured. His expression twisted in pain, and his body jerked.
“Can the sea witch save you? Athlen? What should I do?”
Athlen’s eyes rolled in his head and his body went limp.
“Athlen?” Tal gasped. He shook Athlen’s shoulders. “Athlen?” Tal held his hand above Athlen’s parted lips and cried at the soft, slow puffs against his skin. “He’s breathing.”
She’ll bargain with anyone who calls her name with a desire in their heart.
“Take him to the beach.”
“Tally,” Garrett said, voice sad and full of resignation.
“No!” Tal lurched across Athlen’s body and grabbed the lapel of Garrett’s shirt in his bloodied hand. “Take him. He’s a merman, which means he is hardier and heals faster. He will survive a little longer. Take him to the closest beach, the one by the castle wall. You must! Promise me.”
Garrett’s mouth was a grim line. “I promise.”
Tal shot to standing, tense as a bowstring, desperation and grief compelling him forward. He stumbled on the stone stairs, trusting Garrett to complete his task.
Her name.
He needed her name.
“Whoa, Tally.” Kest caught him as Tal ran through the arches. “What’s happening? Are you injured? Why are you covered in blood?”
“Let go. I need to know her name. I need her name.”
“Whose name?”
“The sea witch!” Tal twisted out of Kest’s grip and ran. Athlen’s blood grew tacky on his hands, and it smeared along the stone as Tal stumbled toward the dungeons. His heart raced and his legs were weak, but his resolve only grew as he ran down the twisting steps and burst into the dungeons. He ignored the guards, called fire to his hand, and concentrated on the lock. It shattered under the force of his panic and despair.
“Poppy!” he yelled as he shouldered through the door, the guards yelling at him. “Poppy!”
He skidded to a halt in front of her cell.
She stared at him through the tangled strands of her hair. “What do you want?”
“Tell me the name of the sea witch.”
She narrowed her eyes into slits. “Why?”
“I don’t have time, Poppy. Do you know how to call her?”
Shrugging, she stood from her mattress and walked to the bars. “You’re covered in blood, but you’re still not dead.”
“Poppy, please.” Anguish welled in him. She didn’t know. Or she wouldn’t tell him. He’d wasted precious time. He’d run away on a fool’s quest, and Athlen was going to die without him.
“Let me out and I’ll tell you.”
Tal didn’t hesitate. As he had with Athlen’s fetter, as he had done with the door, he concentrated fire on the metal lock until it heated to a cherry red, and it melted from the iron bars. He wrenched the door open, the fire licking across his skin.
“Tell me, please.”
“Morwen. Most call her Morwen.”
Tal turned and ran.