The first sounds of morning came to quickly.
No storm.
No bells.
No screaming.
Just a pale gray sky stretching over the Water Kingdom and the soft crunch of snow beneath my boots as I crossed the courtyard toward the outer gates.
It almost felt wrong.
Like the world had forgotten what we were about to do.
I hadn't.
The dagger at my hip felt heavier than usual.
Not because of its weight.
Because of where I knew it would end.
The former Water King was alive.
Hiding.
Breathing.
Waiting.
And I was going to find him.
Tadewi stood at the gates before I reached them.
Of course she did.
Wind tugged at the edges of her cloak, but she didn't move with it. She stood still, calm, rooted in a way that always made her seem less like a woman and more like a mountain pretending to be one.
In her hands was a rolled map.
"You're early," I said.
Her mouth curved faintly. "You were never going to wait until sunrise."
Fair.
I stopped in front of her.
She held out the map.
"His last known location," she said. "A coastal fortress north of the capital. Old. Half-abandoned. It was once used to monitor shipping lanes before the harbor expanded."
I took it carefully.
The parchment was thick, marked with several routes, patrol points, and notes written in Tadewi's precise hand.
"Scouts counted more guards than expected," she added. "Not an army. But enough to suggest he still has loyalists."
"Of course he does."
Kings like him always did.
Power attracted cowards.
Tadewi's gaze sharpened slightly.
"There are side entrances here and here." She pointed. "The lower eastern wall is damaged. If you want quiet entry, that is likely your best route."
I nodded, memorizing every mark.
Every detail.
Every weakness.
"Thank you."
Her hand came down on my shoulder.
Firm.
Warm.
Surprisingly gentle.
I looked up.
Tadewi held my gaze, and for a moment, the calm in her face softened into something almost maternal.
"We will be waiting eagerly for your return," she said.
Something in my chest tightened.
Not painfully.
Not exactly.
I swallowed and nodded once.
"I'll come back."
"I know."
She said it like fact.
Like the wind had already told her.
I wished I believed it as easily.
I tucked the map beneath my cloak and turned toward the gate.
And stopped.
Three figures crossed the courtyard toward me.
Muir.
Revik.
Willow.
At first, I thought they had come to see me off.
Then I saw the bags.
One slung over Revik's shoulder.
Another across Willow's back.
My eyes narrowed.
"No."
Revik grinned. "Good morning to you too, lovey."
"You are not coming."
"You should have known you weren't going alone."
"I did know," I said. "That's why I didn't invite you."
"Rude."
"Accurate."
Willow stepped beside him, adjusting the strap of her bag. Her green eyes met mine directly.
"I can help," she said.
No joke.
No teasing.
Just truth.
"I know the northern terrain. And if this fortress is as old as Tadewi says, roots may have already breached parts of the stone."
I looked at her.
Then at Revik.
"You?" I asked.
He placed a hand over his chest like I'd wounded him.
"I'm hurt."
"You are loud."
"I'm improving."
"You once knocked over three weapons racks trying to sneak up on me during dinner."
"That was one time."
"It was last week."
Muir sighed quietly beside him. "I've been drilling him tirelessly."
Revik pointed at him. "Exactly. Blame your king."
My gaze shifted to Muir.
And something in me changed.
The humor faded.
So did his.
He noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
He always noticed more than he let on.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The air between us filled with everything I didn't know how to say.
I was leaving to kill his father.
Not just a king.
Not just a monster.
His father.
The man who had taught him to swim.
The man he wished he could hate.
My throat tightened.
"Muir—"
He stepped forward before I could finish.
Then his arms came around me.
Careful.
Protective.
Solid.
I froze for half a second.
Then hugged him back.
His mouth lowered near my ear, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet enough that only I could hear.
"I love you more than the man he became."
My breath caught.
His arms tightened just slightly.
"And I promise you, I always will."
The words broke through something I didn't realize I was still holding.
I closed my eyes.
For one second.
Just one.
Then he pulled back.
His hand lifted, brushing lightly against my cheek before he pressed a soft kiss there.
Not romantic.
Not dramatic.
Just affection.
Family.
When he stepped back, there was a smile on his face I had never seen before.
Small.
Sad.
Gentle.
A king's smile.
A friend's smile.
"Thank you," I whispered.
His eyes softened.
I forced my voice steady.
"I'll be home soon."
Home.
The word slipped out before I could think better of it.
Muir's eyes lit slightly.
Not much.
But enough.
Enough that I knew he had heard it.
Enough that I knew it mattered.
"See that you are," he said.
Revik cleared his throat loudly.
"Well, now that everyone has emotionally devastated each other before breakfast, shall we?"
Willow elbowed him.
He grunted.
I laughed despite myself.
Small.
Brief.
Needed.
Then I turned toward the open gate.
The path beyond waited.
Snow.
Stone.
Sea wind.
And somewhere beyond all of it—
judgment.
"Let's go."
Willow shifted first.
Her body expanded in a powerful surge of green scale and earth-fed strength, wings unfurling wide enough to cast a shadow across the courtyard.
I stepped forward and let my own change come.
It was easier now.
Still painful.
Still consuming.
But no longer terrifying.
Bones shifted.
Skin gave way to iridescent scales.
Wings tore free.
The world sharpened.
Snow.
Wind.
Blood beneath skin.
Magic beneath stone.
When I lowered myself, Revik approached with far too much confidence.
"I feel I should mention," he said, climbing onto my back, "that if you drop me, I will haunt you."
I snorted smoke.
Willow huffed beside me.
Revik settled behind the base of my neck, gripping carefully.
"Comforting," he muttered. "Very majestic."
I launched into the sky before he could say more.
His curse vanished into the wind.
Good.
The flight north lasted hours.
The city shrank behind us.
Then the camps.
Then the roads.
Snow-covered forests rolled beneath us, broken by black rivers and jagged cliffs that cut toward the sea.
The air grew colder the farther north we flew.
Sharper.
Saltier.
The ocean appeared eventually, dark and restless beneath a pale winter sky.
Willow flew beside me in smooth, powerful strokes.
Revik stayed quiet longer than expected.
Either from nerves—
or because the winds of flying on a dragon had finally silenced him.
A miracle.
After another stretch of coastline passed below us, he leaned forward.
"Few miles out," he shouted against the wind. "We should land and go on foot from here."
I angled my wings downward.
Willow followed.
We landed in a snow-covered clearing bordered by twisted pine and gray stone.
Revik slid down behind me and immediately dropped to one knee.
I shifted back, boots sinking into fresh powder and raised a brow.
"Dramatic?"
"Ground," he said, pressing a hand to the snow. "Beautiful, reliable ground."
Willow shifted back beside us, brushing snow from her sleeves.
"You complained less than I expected."
"I was conserving energy."
"For what?"
"Complaining now."
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Then I pulled the map from beneath my cloak.
The fortress was close.
Very close.
We moved on foot from there.
The trees thickened as we approached the coast, twisted by wind and salt. The snow beneath them was patchy, broken by exposed rock and frozen roots.
Revik took point.
Surprisingly light on his feet.
I watched him step over a branch without disturbing it, pause at a narrow ridge, then signal us forward.
My brows rose.
"Look at you," I whispered. "Almost stealthy."
He glanced back, offended.
"Almost?"
"You're improving."
"Muir wasn't joking when he said he drilled me tirelessly on it."
"I can tell."
"That sounded dangerously close to a compliment."
"Don't get used to it."
Willow moved behind us, one hand hovering near the ground every so often, feeling through roots and stone.
"The fortress is ahead," she murmured.
We crouched behind a ridge.
And there it was.
Tadewi had called it old.
That had been generous.
The fortress clung to the cliffside like something the sea had tried to claim and failed. Weather-worn stone rose in uneven walls, sections cracked, towers leaning slightly beneath years of salt and storm.
Lanterns burned along the outer walkways.
Too many.
Guards moved in clusters of three and four.
Also too many.
My eyes narrowed.
"Scouts underestimated."
Revik's mouth flattened. "That's more than a handful of loyalists."
Willow studied the fortress carefully.
"Enough to defend him until transport arrives."
"Or until he decides where to run next," I said.
My fingers drifted toward my dagger.
Revik noticed.
Of course he did.
"Stealth first."
"I know."
"Do you?"
I looked at him.
He held up both hands.
"Just checking."
We circled east.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The damaged wall Tadewi marked was exactly where she said it would be.
Part of the stone had collapsed inward, leaving a narrow gap half-hidden beneath frozen vines and fallen debris.
Willow knelt beside it, pressing her palm against the earth.
"The roots have grown through," she whispered. "I can widen it quietly."
"Do it."
The vines shifted.
Barely.
Slowly peeling stone apart just enough to create an opening.
No crack.
No collapse.
No sound.
Useful.
Very useful.
We slipped inside one at a time.
The interior smelled of damp stone, old smoke, and salt.
A corridor stretched ahead, dimly lit by wall sconces.
Voices drifted from somewhere above.
Male.
Careless.
Unworried.
Good.
Let them stay that way.
We moved silently.
Mostly.
Revik stepped over a broken chain.
Willow ducked beneath a low beam.
I led us through the passage, following the faintest traces of sound and warmth.
At the first corner, two guards appeared.
I froze.
Revik's hand touched my arm.
Wait.
The guards passed without looking down our corridor.
We continued.
At the next stairwell, one guard wasn't so lucky.
He turned too fast.
Saw us.
His mouth opened.
Willow moved first.
Roots shot from cracks in the stone, wrapping his legs and arms, pulling him tight against the wall before he could make a sound.
Revik caught him under the jaw with the hilt of his blade.
The man dropped unconscious.
Quiet.
Efficient.
I looked at Revik.
He shrugged.
"Muir also taught me restraint."
"Impressive."
"I know."
We moved on.
Higher.
Deeper.
Through narrow halls and half-collapsed rooms.
Once, we had to flatten ourselves behind a broken statue as six guards passed close enough that I could smell leather and wine on them.
My hand hovered near my dagger.
Revik shook his head once.
Not necessary.
Annoyingly right.
We kept going.
The fortress opened into an inner passage lined with faded banners bearing the Water Kingdom crest.
I stared at them.
Blue silk.
Silver waves.
Symbols of protection.
Of leadership.
Of trust.
My stomach twisted.
He had hidden behind those symbols while selling children through his docks.
My grip tightened.
Willow's hand brushed mine.
A silent reminder.
Not yet.
Right.
Not yet.
We reached a heavy wooden door near the upper level.
Light spilled faintly beneath it.
Voices drifted through.
One low.
One nervous.
And then—
laughter.
A familiar laugh.
Smooth.
Self-satisfied.
Sickening.
My entire body went still.
The Water King.
Revik's gaze snapped to mine.
Willow's jaw tightened.
The voice came again from beyond the door.
Alive.
Comfortable.
Mocking.
"I told you," he said, amusement curling through every word, "my son never had the stomach to do what was necessary."
My dagger slid silently into my hand.
And this time—
no one told me to wait.