"No need for 'please,' Your Highness. We're not worthy of such kindness." The handmaiden spoke with an expressionless face, the crescent pendants swaying rhythmically against her collarbone. "You should bask more often in sunlight or bathe in the salt waters." The sea-blue towel whispered across every inch of skin. "Your flesh is too pale, my lady," she remarked as the cloth brushed over Siv's breast. "White is an ill-favored color. Bones are white—harbingers of decay. Spiral Narwhals are white—omens of calamity. In essence," she draped the purple robe over Siv's shoulders, "white is annihilation."

  "I know..." The queen's voice was brittle and faint. (I am the embodiment of misfortune.)

  The handmaiden accompanied her to the threshold. "Prince Wally." Lydia bowed low, though her sidelong glance carried veiled intent. "The queen has completed her bath."

  "Very well. You may withdraw." Wally stood with hands clasped behind his back, facing away from them. Once the maid's footsteps faded, he turned. "Siv."

  "W-Wally... Prince Wally." She wavered, uncertain whether to meet his gaze.

  "Wally, or husband." He seized her hand, causing her to shrink instinctively from his touch. "Two years have passed, yet you still stumble over my name. Is such foolishness not beneath you?" Ignoring her feeble resistance, he pulled her roughly into his embrace. "Cinnamon," he murmured, inhaling her fragrance with unconcealed hunger.

  "I... I am rather foolish..." Her words remained barely audible. (I am utterly foolish.) She chastised herself silently. Siv had never been surprised by her marriage to a distant island prince. She'd abandoned all hope of a joyful life like her sister's—the handsome knight of her childhood memories or Cynthia's kind-hearted, curly-haired king were never destinies meant for her. Yet her husband continually bewildered her. Wally might be considered the perfect spouse, but his very perfection disturbed her most. She possessed none of her sister's virtues, nor could she match Claire's beauty. Such a flawless partner seemed as substantial as a colorful soap bubble floating before her eyes.

  "How fares your health today? Has the coughing worsened?" The prince pressed her delicate fingers against his cheek. "I feel well enough. The cold seems to have relented."

  "Splendid news, my ethereal elf." Wally's lips brushed her knuckles. "Come, I wish to show you something remarkable."

  They traversed a corridor of shadows, the rhythmic crash of waves against stone reverberating from their right. "Where are we bound?" The queen lifted her robe slightly, following her husband's silhouette up the stairway. "To the horizon," came his terse reply.

  "..." She couldn't imagine how far they might truly venture, but dared not ask again. Before a perfect husband, one must never repeat a question—such behavior betrayed dullness, unworthiness of an ideal match. She ascended three flights of stairs in his wake, turned right, and emerged onto a vast platform. Beyond stretched a lengthy wooden bridge, extending into the darkness.

  "You are dismissed for now." Wally addressed the pair of sentries. "You there." He delivered a sharp kick to a guard dozing against the wall. "Are you deaf? The Godma forces are attacking!"

  "Mmm..." The guard wiped drool from his chin. "Wha...? G-Godma!?" He leapt to attention, eyes wild with panic. "Sound the alarm! Alert the Sea King! Godma raiders are—"

  "No need for alarms. The battle has concluded." Wally clamped his hand over the man's mouth. "I've disposed of every invader myself."

  "All of them... Your Highness?" The muffled voice leaked between his fingers. "Indeed. There were merely a hundred thousand or so—a trifling effort on my part. Now," he grasped the guard's collar, "remove yourself from my sight."

  The guard stumbled backward and tumbled down the staircase.

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  "...Tsk."

  Wally regarded her with genuine surprise. "Did you just laugh?"

  "Ah... yes." Her lips curved upward.

  "How magnificent, my radiant goddess." He reclaimed her hand. "Come, we approach our destination."

  They stood upon the wooden bridge's center span, where fierce sea winds seemed capable of dispersing even moonlight itself, leaving souls exposed. Siv clutched her robe tightly, yet her body betrayed her with violent coughing.

  The prince encircled her shoulders with his arm. "Look," he commanded, gesturing toward the infinite darkness. "What do you perceive?"

  The queen drew ragged breaths, wrestling her cough into submission. "...The sea?"

  The ocean stretched beyond comprehension.

  "More than that." He urged her slightly forward. "Look deeper."

  "Hmm..." Siv narrowed her eyes in concentration. "...The moon?"

  The celestial orb hung unreachable above.

  "No, still incorrect." He pushed her forward again, her toes nearly at the bridge's edge. "Your vision fails you. You must observe more keenly."

  "...Forgive me, I cannot—" Everything changed in a heartbeat. Vertigo overwhelmed her as her perspective plummeted downward at terrifying speed. Moon, sea, jagged rocks, wooden planks—all flashed before her eyes in a fraction of a second. Her center of gravity shifted forward, heels lifting from the boards, followed by the balls of her feet, then her toes. She was falling.

  She had no time to scream. She remembered wanting to cry out her sister's name. A powerful grip seized Siv's right wrist, leaving most of her body suspended over the abyss. In the next instant, she was yanked back into a crushing embrace. "There now, you're safe," Wally's voice slithered into her ear. "A close encounter with fate, wouldn't you agree?" His arms tightened around her. "But you need never fear. While I stand beside you, no harm shall befall you."

  Her heartbeat thundered through her skull, drowning out even the roaring waves below. Though her body had returned to solid ground, her spirit remained suspended over the precipice. She remembered with perfect clarity—she had not stumbled, nor had her footing faltered. What she'd felt was a distinct force—a deliberate push from behind.

  (Could it be... could he have truly...)

  "Once more." The prince guided her toward the bridge's edge again, though with less obvious force. "Now what do you see before you?"

  She remained mute, paralyzed.

  "Fear nothing, Siv," he murmured reassuringly. "So long as I hold you, you cannot fall."

  She forced herself to banish the terrible suspicion. The queen steeled herself and gazed outward, her pupils contracting against the darkness. Moonlight spilled across the restless waters, transforming waves into sheets of pristine alabaster. "What vision greets you?"

  She inhaled deeply. "Death."

  "Pardon? What was that?" The howling wind scattered her whispered confession. "No matter. I see your eyes serve you as poorly as your mind." He gripped her shoulders firmly. "Yonder lies Cynthia," he breathed against her ear, "yonder waits your sister."

  A different shock jolted through her, striking directly at her heart. (Cynthia? Sister?) Siv's mind emptied of all else, every previous thought swept into nothingness. "You speak of... my sister?" Her voice quavered with sudden emotion.

  "Indeed." He straightened, observing her transformation.

  "Truly?!" The queen whirled to face him, her features illuminated with unexpected joy. "You consent to lead forces to Claire's rescue?!"

  "A prince's word is inviolable." He beheld her radiant smile with undisguised satisfaction. "I would summon the world's most exquisite poetry to kindle your happiness, but never would I offer falsehood." His lips claimed hers.

  She returned his kiss with unprecedented fervor, her actions suffused with gratitude and exhilaration. She surrendered to his warmth, their tangled tongues elevating her to a fleeting paradise.

  (He actually agreed.) Siv caught his upper lip between her teeth, a soft moan escaping her. (He actually consented to my impulsive, selfish demand.) She shuddered with pleasure as he suckled her lower lip. (The first true request I've made in all my years. He agreed! Praise be to Goria! Oh—perhaps I should thank the God of Ocean instead? Ah, such distinctions matter not. This man loves me—that alone suffices.)

  "Enough for now." The prince broke their contact, moonlight illuminating the gossamer strand of saliva still connecting them. "Let us depart."

  "To where?" The question left her lips before she could reconsider its foolishness.

  "First to our chambers." The prince swept her into his arms like a bride. "And thereafter, to Cynthia."

  The moonlight transformed the churning sea into a canvas of blinding white.