Page 8 of A Dark and Drowning Tide

Someone good-naturedly jeered in the audience, and Wilhelm’s smile turned almost bashful.

A dream was certainly one word for it. Wilhelm’s father, King Friedrich II, had set out to unite every Brunnisch-speaking territory under one banner: his own. Lorelei had to admire his ruthless efficiency. Before his death, Friedrich annexed nearly all of them in an ambitious military campaign, then executed anyone who refused to swear fealty to him. Once the streets ran red with the blood of traitors, he seized their lands and redistributed them to those he deemed moreloyal—orat least more biddable.

At eighteen, Wilhelm had inherited both the crown and his father’s dream. By twenty, he’d seized the last free territories. Five years later, here he stood before them: the king of a tenuously united Brunnestaad.

“What unifying our kingdom has taught me is this: every Brunnestaader, no matter which province we hail from, no matter our class or creed, has a warrior’s spirit. We’re stubborn as hell. Few more so than my friends, which is more than half the reason I’ve chosen them to carry out this expedition. None of them needs introduction, of course, but for ceremony’s sake, I’d like to embarrass them.

“First, we have the lovely Heike van der Kaas, the expedition’s astronomer and navigator.” Wilhelm winked and extended a hand to her. “Join me up here, will you?”

Heike made a show of her ascent, tossing her hair over one bare shoulder and sliding her gloved fingers sensually along the banister. When at last she arrived at Wilhelm’s side, he took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Bracing herself with one hand on his arm, she stood on her toes and whispered something in his ear. He smothered a laugh and all but shoved her away.

Once he recovered, he continued, “Adelheid de Mohl, our thaumatologist.”

Wilhelm spoke Adelheid’s name with a startling, wide-open yearning. It was foolish, Lorelei thought, for a man like him to display a weakness so plainly. Adelheid, for her part, met his gaze with cool indifference.

When she strode forward, the crowd shifted as if making way for a queen. She was a statuesque woman, not quite as tall as Lorelei but built along strong, decisive lines: broad shoulders, thick muscles, and sharp, cut-stone features. Her hair, the yellow of a bleak summer afternoon, was woven into a coronet around her temples. Adelheid was pragmatic in a way none of the others were, from her simple white gown to her plainspoken manner. Growing up in the province Ebul, where little but the hardiest things grew, toughened even a noblewoman. As soon as Adelheid reached the balcony, Heike looped her arm in Adelheid’s.

“Johann zu Wittelsbach, hero of the Battle of Neide and our medic.”

Johann skulked up the stairs, his shadow cutting harshly across the marble. Wilhelm clapped him on the shoulder andsqueezed—whetherfond or possessive or both, Lorelei could not tell. Johann did not move until the king released him.

Johann went to stand at Adelheid’s right-hand side. He rested one hand on the hilt of his saber as though ready to draw it at the first sign of danger. The two of them were nearly inseparable, with Johann trailing after Adelheid like her shadow.

“Ludwig von Meyer, our botanist.”

Ludwig emerged from the crowd dressed like a poisonous species: noxiously, clashingly bright. Or, perhaps more accurately, like a man with something to prove. After greeting the king with a handshake, he wedged himself beside Heike. He whispered something in her ear, and she pinched him in what seemed to be retaliation. Adelheid stared repressively at them both.

“And last but certainly not least, our naturalist, Sylvia von Wolff.” As she made her way toward the balcony, Wilhelm raised an eyebrow at her. “Who is joining us directly from the field, I see.”

The crowd tittered.

Lorelei recognized the irritated look on Sylvia’s face. Clearly, the rest of the group did, too. They looked on with matching expressions of dread. Sylvia, however, gathered her waterlogged skirts in both hands and curtsied to him. It seemed even she had the good sense to refrain from bickering with His Majesty in front of an audience.

When she rose, she strode past the others with her chin held high. Johann leered at her with a strange, predatory smile that made Lorelei’s skin crawl. Sylvia pointedly ignored him and stationed herself beside Ludwig. He nudged her shoulder encouragingly with his own.

An awed hush descended over the ballroom. Even Lorelei could not find it in herself to feel bitter. It was, admittedly, an arresting sight. All of them were as strange and luminous as distant stars. When Lorelei first arrived at the university, its glittering splendor was entirely foreign to her. But the most striking of everything on campus were the Ruhigburg Five.

They were one year older than her, drifting through campus as a singleentity—likea hydra with warringheads—orelse a group of heroes stepped right out of a myth. Rumors about them abounded, from the laughably mundane to the wildly improbable. That they’d all fought in the war together (true, save Ludwig and Heike); that Johann was the sole survivor of the Battle of Neide (questionable); that Adelheid had gotten no fewer than ten students expelled for cheating (plausible); that Sylvia had once, impromptu, taken the place of a lead soprano who’d injured herself minutes before curtain call (God willing, false).

Until last year, when Ziegler had brought Lorelei onto the team, she’d never imagined they’d deign to speak to her.

“Our people are many,” Wilhelm continued. “But no matter which province we hail from, whether we’re of noble or common blood, we’re bound together by an invisible thread. Our magic, our language, and most importantly, our stories. Who among us hasn’t grown up on the tale of the Ursprung?”

He paused for effect, and murmurs rippled through the ballroom.

“Let it be known that it is no longer just a story. We’ve found it.” His voice rose above the swelling noise of the crowd. “Claiming its power will establish Brunnestaad as a unifiedkingdom—andan unassailable one. Nothing shall tear us apart again, either inside or outside our borders.”

The air seemed to thicken with tension. Lorelei scanned the crowd. For as many gazing hungrily up at Wilhelm, others had clearly taken his words for the threat they were.

“Tonight is just the beginning.” His voice softened again. “But before we dance and make merry, I’d like to give the floor to the leader of the expedition and my personal walking encyclopedia, Professor Ingrid Ziegler.”

Her smile was tight as she climbed the stairs and took her place on the balcony. For the first time tonight, Lorelei truly saw her. Even though she knew, mathematically speaking, that Ziegler was forty-seven, she looked somehow ageless with her unlined face and overbright expression. Ziegler credited it to how much she walked. Lorelei had her doubts, although she could offer no other explanation. She was a stout, ruddy woman with graying chestnut hair and clear, blue eyes. She wore a gown in bold red satin, trimmed with ribbons and pearls. Although the Brunnisch court had caught on to the latest fashion trends, they were still woefully behind the rest of the continent. Standing above them, Ziegler looked like an exotic bird.

“Good evening,” she said. “I want to extend my deepest gratitude to King Wilhelm for being a patron of the arts and sciences over the course of hisreign—andfor generously relieving me of my courtly duties for this venture. It is my great honor to represent Ruhigburg University tonight. Now I want to introduce the co-leader of the expedition. She will serve as my right hand in the field.”

This was it: the moment Lorelei had been dreading for months. She didn’t know if she could bear to watch Sylvia basking in the light of their adoration. She couldn’t bear spending another night as her shadow, wallowing just outside her brilliance.

She couldn’t bear it.