"Call it Kidolian's blessing, Prince. Or maybe we just got damn lucky," the old man said, leaning against the ship's bulwark. "Even when you made that request, we never truly believed it possible. Surely you understand how extraordinarily difficult it is to acquire intact Spiral Whale Bones or horns."

  "They say such treasures can only be claimed after a Spiral Narwhal's death? I've never witnessed one with my own eyes."

  "One could, theoretically, slay such a creature through brute force, but I doubt any man possesses such capability—save perhaps the Sons of Kidolian. Those warships fortunate enough to bear Spiral Whale Bone adornments invariably acquired them from carcasses that had already met their natural end. We happened to be at sea that day when we spotted a dead Spiral Narwhal washed onto a sandbar."

  "Which sandbar?"

  "Lobster Beach."

  Wally Laren Ctiton's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Fortunate it didn't wash ashore on one of our six neighboring islands."

  "Had that occurred, the consequences would have been most dire, Prince," Henris replied. "These Spiral Narwhal carcasses decompose with alarming rapidity, particularly their magnificent horns. I immediately ordered the crew to approach the sandbar and preserve the juvenile whale before putrefaction could claim it."

  "A juvenile specimen, then. That explains the modest length of its horn," Wally observed thoughtfully. "Did you employ a mage?" Magic-wielders were as scarce as horses throughout the island realms.

  "Bah," the old man spat contemptuously into the churning sea. "Where are we going to find a mage in this godforsaken place? We carried Mafolin Water for preservation purposes. I had ordered it brought along as a precaution—after all, our prince had expressed his desire for Spiral Narwhal adornments. Who could have foreseen we'd encounter the genuine article?"

  "Luck," the prince remarked. "Extraordinary luck. Perhaps this expedition will enjoy similar good fortune."

  "...Prince." A delicate voice sounded behind him, prompting him to turn. "Ah, Siv," he addressed her with unexpected warmth. "I nearly forgot—your constitution isn't well-suited to the harsh sea winds. Let us board without delay." He approached, offering his arm for support. Henris barked orders to the deck crew to lower the gangplank.

  "There remains an opportunity," Wally whispered against her ear. "If apprehension fills your heart, you may still withdraw, my lady."

  "No... I harbor no fear." (How many refusals have crossed my lips today?) She ascended the gangplank with measured steps alongside her husband as the surrounding multitude erupted into renewed cheers. "To reunite with my sister, I would face any peril." She detected a subtle alteration in the prince's countenance at the mention of "sister."

  Upon the deck, sailors bustled with activity, and children barely ten years old struggled with cargo disproportionate to their slight frames. "Will these youngsters accompany our voyage?" the princess consort inquired, indicating the children.

  "Certainly, Siv," the prince affirmed, drawing her close. "These are our youngest warriors, newly inducted into the seafaring brotherhood."

  Lydia supervised the transportation of Siv's personal effects to her quarters, while Wally and Siv proceeded to the stern deck, which afforded an unobstructed view of the entire harbor.

  "My beloved subjects!" Wally raised his hand, eliciting a cascade of enthusiastic response. "Today our fleet embarks upon its sacred mission. As you well know, verbose oration isn't my particular talent—unlike my venerable father." He performed an exaggerated inhalation, triggering scattered laughter throughout the crowd. "Therefore, I shall be concise. We're going to kick the asses of those arrogant, stuck-up Southerners." (Thunderous acclaim erupted from below.) "We shall deliver Cynthia from peril and ensure the queen's safekeeping." (The ovation diminished markedly.) He accepted a golden oar from a nearby guard, brandishing it aloft. "We shall sail with favorable winds and return crowned with victory!"

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  The assembled throng exploded into a dissonant symphony of jubilation. Henris exchanged meaningful glances with several youthful deckhands, who promptly retrieved their instruments and commenced playing. The ensemble—comprising lutes, flutes, and seven-stringed harps—was woefully imperfect, with the harp notes consistently deviating by half to full tones. Nevertheless, the gathered sea folk joined in the musical tribute, their voices rising in The Song of the Seas.

  ("...From distant shores, oh sea wind, what treasures do you bear, what burdens do you take?

  From distant shores, oh sea wind, you bring us shells, waves, and the breath of life itself. Yet your whispers at my ear remain an enigma!

  From distant shores, oh sea wind, you carry away our sorrows, our tears, and ultimately our very lives. Yet the meaning of your constant presence eludes my understanding!

  Oh, in that transcendent moment, I transformed into a seagull, soaring upon your currents. At last I comprehended your language, omnipresent sea wind. You revealed that only by becoming all things could I truly commune with your spirit. And mysteriously, all things converged into my being.

  Upon our reunion, tears streamed unbidden down my face. For you carried the ocean's voice, the ocean's will, the ocean's deepest yearning! How magnificent you are, and how insignificant we remain. You are life's wellspring, while we are merely its vessels.

  No longer do we wander lost. We tread upon your broad shoulders, listening to your eternal song.

  Beneath your protection, we know no fear.")

  Prince Wally accepted a second oar from his guard, this one painted pristine white. Gripping it firmly with both hands, he raised it skyward. The singing ceased abruptly as expectant silence fell over the gathering.

  With a dramatic gesture, he snapped the white oar in twain and cast the fragments into the depths. "Beneath your protection, we know no fear. Let our journey commence!" he proclaimed in stentorian tones.

  The assembly erupted into unprecedented jubilation. Siv Grace offered a perfunctory farewell wave. The crew retracted the gangplank and unfurled magnificent sails emblazoned with the emblems of a trident and Spiral Narwhal. She shielded her eyes from the glare, gazing upward toward the heavens.

  Beyond the sun's brilliance, only expanses of white clouds populated the firmament, stretching endlessly to the horizon without a trace of azure.

  The wet nurse defied Kristina's preconceptions entirely. She had anticipated a crone with deeply furrowed features and mammoth breasts resembling a dairy cow. The woman before her, however, diverged significantly from these expectations—her face bore only modest lines, and her bosom exceeded average proportions by only a slight margin. "I am Renee Hubbard, wet nurse to Princess Rebecca."

  "It's my profound honor to serve under your direction, Mistress Hubbard," Kristina responded courteously. "I understand another handmaiden has been assigned to the princess?"

  "Indeed," Mistress Hubbard confirmed, maintaining a brisk pace. "Her Majesty has decreed that the young princess must receive unparalleled care. With two attendants at her disposal, should one become indisposed for any reason, the other can fulfill all necessary duties without interruption."

  "Her Majesty demonstrates remarkable foresight," Kristina murmured. (Damnation! I had assumed exclusive responsibility for the princess.)

  "Your concern is unwarranted," the wet nurse remarked lightly. "The other handmaiden isn't some old hag, if that's what you're worried about. She's about your age." (This complicates matters.)

  "How peculiar and unprecedented. The appointment of two youthful attendants simultaneously contradicts conventional practice. Traditionally, the arrangement would include one senior and one junior servant. However, as the baroness has rendered this decision, I'm hardly positioned to question her judgment."

  "I shall endeavor to prove my worthiness."

  "Excessive anxiety serves no purpose," Mistress Hubbard advised with a gentle smile that deepened the fine lines around her eyes. "Simply attend to the princess with your utmost capability. Though my appearance might suggest otherwise, advancing years have taken their toll. Beyond nursing duties, my physical limitations have grown pronounced. Since my unfortunate tumble down the staircase, my body has betrayed me in countless ways."