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The retaining wall that supported the easternmost pier has crumbled inward. Massive blocks of dark stone tumbled into the shallows where they lay half-submerged. The wooden pilings that once held the pier above the tide jut from the surface at broken angles, snapped off at varying heights. Chains that once secured mooring posts dangle uselessly into the water, swaying with the current.

“When?” I ask, and my voice comes out harder than I intend.

“There was a small tremor the day before you were expected home,” Garret says, stepping up beside me. “Rattled some shelves, woke a few people, nothing more. We thought it was the usual settling.” He pauses. “Then the second one hit yesterday morning, once your ship was on the horizon. It was stronger and lasted longer. The eastern pier collapsed within minutes. Three fishing vessels were lost. No casualties, but only because the fishermen hadn’t launched yet.”

“But what about the first days after my departure? Were there any disturbances with the land, any tremors?” I ask.

“Nothing,” Garret repeats. “Not a tremor, not a shift, nothing. The land was stable.”

He reads my expressions almost as well as his brother.

“I know what you are thinking, my king. It seems the further away from home you are the fewer issues the land has.”

“I suspected this was the problem after seeing Purgatory. With King Zander living on the island now, there are issues.”

“What issues?”

“Fish washing ashore dead.”

“We’ve had that here.”

“No, not just a few. I mean thousands. We noticed upon arrival it worsened. They’ve banned civilians from fishing without a permit to stop hysteria, but I have a feeling that is why King Zander hasn’t gone back to Fenrune. No king has ever just stayed there. We have all traveled between Purgatory and our kingdoms when we’ve overseen the mainland, but he’s made himself quite at home.”

“He’s trying to minimize the damage to his kingdom.”

I nod slowly. “And stocking up on supplies. The entire island is living in poverty, and the weather has turned. Storms have ravaged the island, everything is frozen or dead.”

“Fenrune Kingdom is known for its wild storms and gale-force winds. His curse has followed him.”

“I’m next to oversee Purgatory . . .” I mutter. Me being there won’t help the island, but staying here could destroy ours.

“We still have a few months to figure that out,” Garret states.

“You’re right. I have to fix things here before I can think of fixing Purgatory.”

The water laps at the newly exposed stone where the retaining wall once stood, each wave rising higher than the last, tasting the ground revealed by the collapse. In the lantern light, I can see how far the waterline has crept. Two years ago, that water was twenty paces further out. A decade ago, the stone I’m standing on was well above the high-tide mark. Now the ocean touches it with every swell. I can feel the island shrinking beneath me with the same certainty that I can feel the bond pulling me back toward the castle, back toward her.

“How much territory did we lose?” I ask quietly.

“The eastern shore has receded by about fifteen feet. The southern cliffs show new fracture lines. The engineers estimate that we’ve lost two acres, mostly along the eastern and southern coastlines.”

I watch a wave crest over a stone block that six months ago would have stood dry, and the water retreats slowly, leaving behind a dark stain that glistens in the torchlight. Claiming it. Marking it as the ocean’s new property.

“Double the work crews on the remaining piers,” I say. “Reinforce the southern retaining walls. Use whatever materials we have, and if we don’t have enough, strip the abandoned buildings in the lower quarter. Those structures are useless anyway.” I pause, staring at the dark water. “I want a full survey of the castle’s foundation. If the ground is shifting, I need to know how far inland it reaches.”

Garret nods. “Yes, my king.”

I turn away from the collapsed piers.

“What next?”

“The human rations,” Garret says. “We’ve announced the reduced allocations since the granary loss. The current supply will last another three weeks if we maintain strict portions, but the humans have taken the news of the shortage poorly. Tensions are rising in the lower quarter. Two altercations broke out at the distribution point, one of them severe enough that a guard had to intervene.”

“Fighting over food,” I mutter, and the bitterness in my voice isn’t directed at the humans because I understand the desperation of hunger better than most. It is directed at the endless, grinding insufficiency of a kingdom that cannot feed its own people. A kingdom that relies on hostile alliances. The goodwill of other kings who have every reason to let us starve if provoked.

It makes mine and Zander’s conversation more confronting. If my kingdom is deteriorating this badly, then the others are too, and that will end in war when desperation sets in.

“The supplies from Purgatory will ease it,” I say, thinking of the ship we arrived on, its hold packed with provisions I bargained for. “Have Eagan oversee the distribution tomorrow. Standard protocol. Families with children first, then the labor force, then everyone else.”