Sea Witch(25)

“No, I’m not finished with you.” She crosses her arms for a moment, looking stern, but then backs away from the door, leaving a sliver for escape. “But you are just as stubborn as your mother, and if you fight me as long as she would have, I’ll be in this doorway until dawn.”

I take another step toward her and lean in as much as my belongings will allow, planting a kiss on her papery cheek.

“Good night, Tante Hansa.”

I stride past her, past her smelly inks, and out the door. I’m not one step beyond the threshold when I hear her call, “Don’t grant all the prince’s requests, darling girl. Men are always asking for more than they should.”

Though I’m not with Father on one of his fish deliveries, it seems too strange to walk through the main entrance of ?ldenburg Castle. There are some things that are just not for me as a commoner. Malvina Christensen and her ilk might think I don’t know my place, but I do. It’s evident every day.

I’m angling through the tulip garden, the trunk dragging along at my feet, when I hear my name.

It’s nearly midnight, but Queen Charlotte looks just as regal as ever, still in the full evening gown she wore at the festival, crown nestled in her perfectly styled hair. I catch Nik approaching behind her.

“Evelyn,” says the queen, the distaste in her voice not hard to miss. “Niklas told me you’d be joining us.” She eyes her son, and I know he had to fight for me to stay. “It was gracious of Friherrinde Annemette to suggest you stay in the same room.”

“She’s very gracious indeed, as are you for having us, Your Highness,” I say. The queen nods as if I’ve passed a test—I know how she prefers to be praised.

“My pleasure,” she says, and steps away. But then she pauses and turns. “Please stay within this wing.”

I nod. Yes, I know my place.

Once the queen is gone, Nik rushes to my side.

“Let me help you.”

“I’ve got it.” But just as I say it, he’s snuck a hand on either handle and hoisted the thing to his chest, as effortless as can be.

“You shouldn’t. You’re still recovering!”

“I’m fine. It’s practice for the rock carry—I have to defend my title.”

“Since when do you care about winning so much?” I goad him so we don’t have to talk about his mother.

“Turns out a taste of victory is all I needed to care.”

“Or the need to impress a girl. Speaking of . . . where is she?”

Nik takes a step toward the door, and I rush ahead of him to open it. “Mette was so enamored with her room; it was so sweet, I didn’t want to disturb her. Besides, Mother . . .”

His voice trails off as a guard comes to help, taking the trunk from Nik’s hands. Nik grabs the edge of the door above my head, relieving me of my duty. For a moment, I stand there trying to read his face, because it’s not as clear and open as I’m used to seeing. His emotions are all muddled, like Hansa’s magical ink swirling across the surface of water.

Nik looks over at the guard. “Take her trunk to the Baroque Room, please, Oleg.”

Oleg nods, and Nik pulls me back outside and onto the steps. He sits down on the top step, and I follow. His shoulder nestles next to mine and his voice is low.

“Apparently coming of age means more than giving speeches,” he says without preamble, his eyes on his hands.

My heart starts pounding and my hand finds his shoulder. “Nik . . .”

“Mother is pleased because Annemette is the first of her ‘girls’ to arrive.”

My mouth goes dry. I should’ve seen this coming—among so many other things these past few days. Annemette must have passed the queen’s scrutiny, my aid unneeded.

“She had her ladies send letters to every high house in Denmark, inviting every princess, komtesse, and friherrinde to the Lithasblot Ball and God knows what else. Now that I’m sixteen, I should be courting, but Mother thought it wise to bring the girls to me.”

“Oh, Nik—” I start, but then he stares up at me, and the look in his eyes makes my throat catch.

“Lured them in with Iker’s presence, too . . .”

Of course: the playboy prince, two years older, with brave tales of the sea. I bet every last girl with a title is on a steamer right now.

“Two princes for the price of one—we’re the market special,” he says. “No wonder Iker’s still at sea.”

He’s careful to smile at his joke—he’s trying to save my feelings. But I can’t grin back, not even a little bit. I want so badly to turn to stone like the statues in his mother’s garden. There must be a spell for that, no? At least then I wouldn’t have this rot of disappointment creeping up inside me. It turns out knowing better doesn’t always help. It makes it worse.

It’s funny, though—maybe funny isn’t the right word, but Nik and I are both trapped. I’ll forever be the fisherman’s daughter, caught in a web of whispers and lies spread by those too scared to open their eyes and see beyond what’s in front of their faces. And Nik—he’ll be locked in by royal traditions, forced into a loveless match with someone only out for the crown. Nik will always be in the shadow of the castle. And nothing I can do will save him from that.