“Stop!” the sea king yells, and rather than shout a spell, he orders the two closet soldiers after me.“Sœkja!”
The men do as they’re told, their eyes blank with blind determination. Warriors in their first life, they are relieved of their weapons, but not of their skill.
But I have skills too.“Sjo∂a!”
A thick current of water rushes forth to meet the soldiers as they descend, seething, streaming, boiling. It hits their marble-white bodies with a certain fury, immediately singeing their exposed skin. I was unsure when the spell left my lips whether the ghost soldiers would feel pain, and now I have my answer. The pair of them arch back, trees bowing to a summer storm. They don’t make a sound as the smooth tone of their skin erupts into a mottled mess of boils and blisters.
“Gœ∂alauss!”I scream three more times, disarming thelast of the mines. Then, I turn to the crowd below. “Good people,your kinghad plans tonight to detonate a string of mineshe set, to win your favor for a war against your best interests. All he cares about is power and revenge—to him, your lives are pawns to be spent.”
The sea king’s voice grows louder. “Says the witch who brought us the black death and the famine of abundance! You’re an evil monster.”
“My reputation is all of those things, and yet I’m fighting against you for the lives of your people. What does that say about you, Your Highness?”
He explodes, a mutilation spell on his lips.“Meizi!”
But I’m ready.“Skjoldr!”
His spell ricochets off my shield. Two soldiers swim into the line of fire, hurtling toward the sand the second they’re hit.
The sea king gathers himself from a lower position, hair singed by magic, crown tumbling straight off his head, itself taking the brunt of the spell. I could stun him now, but I want these people to see the desperation on his face. The cruelty. I don’t want them to miss a second of who their king really is.
From below, he tries again, his mother’s favorite spell shooting from his fingertips.“Fœra!”
I twist and dodge, red laser lights shooting past me, taking out an ear on the statue of Niklas in Alia’s garden. The merpeople crowding the paths of the garden dive intobeds of rainbow flowers, hands over their heads as they scatter.
“The sea witch speaks the truth!”
My heart leaps—Eydis.
The sea king’s second set of daughters lines up next to me, their faces defiant, daring once again to leave their tower. The three of them facing off against their father is more powerful than anything I could ever say.
Eydis catches the eyes of the merpeople congregating below. She addresses them.
“Our sisters were not maimed by human-made mines. Alia sought freedom to love a human by asking the sea witch to help her go above. Runa went up to bring Alia home once she knew the mission was doomed to fail.” Audible gasps rise from the streets, windows, and cracked doorways. “We lost our sisters to love, not hate.”
More gasps. More eyes.
“Ask Alia yourself. Her ghost swims before you,” Eydis says.
Yes, ask her.
I push my magic through the waters between us. Reaching only for Alia. Reaching for the bonds that tether her will to her father’s. In my mind’s eye, I gather them up, bunching them, and rip them clean.“Bresta! Sjálfvili!”
The bond breaks, and Alia’s eyes go wide. As the cord is cut and her free will is renewed, the sea king flinches hard, his body convulsing in actual, physical pain.
I haven’t just freed her—I’ve severed a thread of his power.
The polypi generals swim around me. I have two dozen more strings, tied straight to the strength he has left.
As her father writhes in pain, Alia finds the voice he’s been stifling. “I am Alia! I am! Eydis speaks the truth!” she says to the people below, arms wide. “Runa did not die—the magic binds her to the earth now. She’s working with human witches to take back what our king has stolen from the earth and from you.”
There’s a loud gasp—both at Alia’s admission and the sea king visibly suffering. I see now that Queen Bodil and the older princesses and their families are out of bed, pressed against the exterior walls of the castle. Though they are silent and shadowed, the sea king’s eyes stray to them, desperation sinking the corners of his mouth.
“She left us for humans! She betrayed our kind!” he screams, desperate.
“I left for myself!” Alia snaps. “And Runa left for me.” She looks from him to the crowd. Her people. “Runa will continue to make the world safe fromyou, Father, restoring the balance of power thatyoutipped toward the sea. Power you keep foryourself, Father, stabilized by the ríkifjor.”
With each word, the sea king winces. It’s as if she’s ripping what was left of his control grain by grain from his skin.
