“Will no one cheer for the first-place horse? Am I so hideous?”
At this, every girl in the crowd, save Annemette, screams his name. It’s the same chorus that I picture when he lands aground anywhere in the ?resund Kingdoms.
Iker’s grandstanding costs him, though, and I touch down on the dirt just after he’s mounted his log. He calculates that he’s made an error in timing and immediately sprints for the other side, half leaping to stay in front of me.
I’m tempted to speed up and take longer steps, but I hold back, the log even slicker than before.
So I take my time. Quick steps, eyes only for the log, breath steady and calm.
I’m in the lead at the midpoint, a second victory in my sights. And that’s exactly when someone in the crowd decides a prince can’t lose yet again, and a branch whizzes through the air, catching me across the neck.
The pain is sharp, and I lose my balance. I’m falling toward the water and Iker’s log before I can do anything physically or magically to stop it. As I’m falling, I think for a split second of Annemette’s floating spell, and I almost say the command, but I can’t do that here. Still, I hang in the air for the slightest of seconds before I catch Annemette’s eyes. I see them shift to the look of concentration I saw in Greta’s Lagoon. Don’t do it, I glare. Not here.
I fall into the river and am pushed under Iker’s log by the current. There’s shouting above the rush of water in my ears, but I can’t make out what’s being said. Then comes a flash of white and navy followed by a great whoosh and water droplets splashing upon my face.
The crowd is making a hearty noise, but it’s not until strong fingers tuck into the back collar of my dress do I realize Iker jumped in the water. He’s clinging with the other arm to the log, in an attempt to keep from rushing downstream.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, somewhat shocked by the water as much as by the fierceness of his voice.
Iker gives me a gentle push, and I swim the final yards to the edge, working hard against the downstream pull of the current. Annemette is leaning over, reaching for me, her beautiful dress hemmed in mud.
Nik is on the bank, yelling. More than that—he’s yanking the boy who threw the stick out of the crowd and tossing him from the competition. I’ve never seen Nik so angry.
Annemette tugs me up the slick bank. Iker follows, hoisting himself up, hands sinking in the mud. We’re a mess, the two of us, dripping water and globs of mud everywhere.
The crowd is silent and so are we. Nik joins us and we turn without a word toward the trail. Not even Nik says anything, the anger still simmering off him.
As we walk away, Nik keeps glancing back at me, muttering to himself. He almost looks as if he wants to grab my hand, but Iker’s arm is around my shoulders, and so all he says is, “I’ll see to it he never competes, never attends again.”
I don’t know what to think—Nik isn’t one to throw around his royal power like this, but I won’t deny it feels good. Of course, it’ll only make the whispers continue. More reasons for the townspeople to say I don’t know my place. I rub at the bruise forming on my neck, a parting gift from the stick, and look over at Annemette. Her expression is withdrawn, her mouth in a line and her brow furrowed. She’s walking a few paces from Nik’s side, giving him room, leaving him be.
I’ve done it again, though, haven’t I? Found another way to distract Nik from what’s important. I just want to be alone, let everyone go on without me, but when we make it to town, Iker tugs me back, taking a moment to scrape the mud off his boots on the jumbled edge of a cobblestone. Boots clean, and Nik and Annemette out of earshot ahead, he grabs my hand.
“Why did you stay here?”
I blink at him. “What do you mean?”
“When I left to go whaling a few days ago—why did you stay where you knew people would throw sticks and say awful things about you?”
Iker could give Tante Hansa a run for her money in the observation department, but his words also ring hollow. “It’s not anything different from before,” I say. “Besides, your offer wasn’t real. You and I both know that.”
He shakes his head, his eyes fierce. “That’s not true, Evie. And it’s real now, whether you believe me or not. The moment my duties at the ball end, let’s leave. Just you and me on my boat. And if we catch a whale, all the better.”
It sounds perfect. My dreams flash before my eyes—of freedom, of Iker, of the sea we could conquer together, one whale at a time. But it’s too perfect. I can’t go, even if it’s only for a few weeks—why can’t he see that?
But at the same time, Annemette fills my thoughts—she’s risked everything for the one she loves and I’ve risked nothing. Even if she dies—and it hurts just thinking that—she will have lived more in these few days than I ever have.
I look up at Iker. My imperfect Iker. The right choice couldn’t be clearer.
“Let’s catch ourselves a whale,” I say.
Iker pulls me in for a kiss, and I sink into him, my mind already thick with dreams of days on the sea and nights snuggled together with my cheek to his chest.
FOUR YEARS BEFORE
The raven-haired girl couldn’t stay on the beach. She couldn’t just lie there while the people she loved like family were in the water.
She pushed herself upright but felt as weighed down as if the tide still held her. Her feet stumbled and her lungs seized, and she fell back into the sand.
The townspeople who watched didn’t help her up, didn’t rush to her aid. They whispered into their hands but weren’t quiet enough. She’d heard it all before, and the words played in her ears like memories.
That girl—she’s allowed access to the castle and she’s dull enough to think she lives there.
The prince isn’t your brother, girl.
Wouldn’t put it past her to be behind this whole tragedy—social-climbing cow.
The raven-haired girl forced herself to her feet again, eyes on Iker’s form, swimming deftly through the water. Her fingers flexed at her sides. There was so much she wished she could do.
She took a step forward. And then another. Moving under her own power, breathing deeply to push herself along. Her heart pounding in time with the names of her loved ones—Anna, Nik, Anna, Nik, Anna, Nik.
And Iker. So strong. He had to save them.
Her toes splashed in the water and she stopped. Fingers flexing again. What she wouldn’t give for her mother’s inks and crystals, for her aunt’s books and knowledge. For a world where she could use their magic—and not burn or be banished for trying.
Iker surfaced. He threw his head back, pulling in a long heave of air, and then dove, his feet splashing over the top of the churning waves.
He’d found one of them. Maybe both of them. How long had they been under? Could it be too late?
The girl looked to her toes, to the minnows swirling about her ankles like the worst thing in the world wasn’t happening right then in their slice of the sea.
Like her friends weren’t dying and it wasn’t her fault.
Though it was. She’d been the one to suggest to Anna that Nik might be impressed by her bravery. That he always seemed thrilled with hers—why wouldn’t it work for Anna? Anna, who had such a crush.
It was the girl’s own fault. She’d suggested the race. She’d planted the idea of bravery in her friend’s head. And now it was all so wrong.
Anna. Nik. Anna. Nik. Anna. Nik.
But she wasn’t powerless, was she? A memory crashed forth in her mind and suddenly the words slipped onto her tongue. Old and dark. And worth a try. She didn’t have inks or potions or crystals. But she had these words. They were a breath of life. And they were all she had.
And so, the raven-haired girl stood in the shallows, reciting the last spell her mother ever cast.
Immediately, her skin grew hot, the seawater there evaporating into dry salt streaks. Her blood sang with magic, her back to the people who would have her burned or banished. She knelt into the waves, put her hands in the water—the more of her touching, the more power there would be.