Some hours later, Selida lay in Lydris's room, her pallet stretched across the floor at the foot of his bed. She could hear the deep, even breathing of a child in restful slumber. She timed her breaths to his so she would not have to listen to the cacophony of recriminations tumbling around inside her head.

First among these was that Ser Aegison had thronged the new passage to the treasure room with guards. Unless she found a way to turn herself invisible, there would be no easy way to return to the pearl. And if she did–her heart quailed at the implications. Tidemother, where are you?

Second was Lydris. He'd woken after his hot bath, just enough to shrink from Emmeline's tautly restrained relief and rage. He apologized for his deception about the practice yard "except I found this pearl, just like Lady Selida said. It was as big as my face and showed me visions of the ocean. There were creatures vast and tiny, and sea elves, and songs, mama, songs like a thousand harps pouring down like rain." When, unmoved, Emmeline listed all the ways he might have died, and let his people down thereby, he paled. Then he apologized and apologized until he fell asleep over his dinner of porridge and honey. This left Emmeline with nothing to do but sigh intermittently and rest her portentous gaze on Selida.

Beyond the bed drapes, Selida could see Emmeline, again robed in black and ensconced in furs. She sat on the padded bench beside her son's headboard. She was sewing, needle disappearing into and out of the fabric with a fervor meant to hold back all of what could have been.

Finally, after all parties had assembled and the boy was out of immediate danger, they had had a tremendous row over Lydris's copper tub.

"And you told me nothing of this?" Ser Aegison's fists and mustaches both trembled, though he exerted obvious effort to keep his voice muted. He glanced down at Lydris. "I could have gone to fetch him."

"Your place was on the wall," Emmeline had said, her usual warmth scraped thin. "Ser Kahldar and Lady Selida found him, and all is now well."

Ser Aegison rounded on Selida. "You saw the route to the treasure?"

Selida, still wet and stiff with salt, said, "I believe the original route is irrelevant now."

"Had she not been with me, Lord Lydris might have slipped into illness, or worse," Ser Kahldar said. He too was still wet, but at least had retrieved his tunic and breastplate from the cave deep under the larders.

"Aluna's priestesses must have hidden their treasure by using the Tidemother's blessings to part and then seal the stone." Emmeline's slow words trembled with equal parts exhaustion and wonder. "Only another cleric's prayer would have reopened the passage."

Ser Aegison's hand, gentle on Lydris's sleeping crown, moved to point at Selida. "So you're telling me a prayer burrowed through a six foot stone wall? What other stone might she breach?"

Selida glowered. "If I had wanted to make the keep fall into the ocean, I clearly could have done so by now."

"Or perhaps you simply never had the opportunity." He looked at Kahldar. "Keep an eye on her at all times."

Kahldar was expressionless. "We already do."

"ALL TIMES. Sleep inside her door if you must."

"For pity's sake, give us five minutes' peace of each other," Selida had snapped. And that was why she was now on the floor of the boy's room, in easy reach should Lydris or Emmeline have need of anything.

***

It was almost midnight when Selida heard heavy footsteps pause outside Lydris's door. Emmeline rose from her bench, crossed the room in a whisper of shadow, and cracked it. Selida squinched her eyes closed. If her unruly thoughts had somehow summoned Kahldar, she wanted to at least pretend to be asleep.

"I am sorry to disturb you," came Ser Aegison's voice. He sounded apologetic; courtly.

Oh for a noose of kelp. Selida opened her eyes again.

"He's sleeping," Emmeline said. "I'll speak with you outside."

From the crack in the door, Selida could see that Ser Aegison had found a washbasin and his best tunic. In Wyvernsvow's teal and silver livery, he was nearly handsome.

"I—am not sure this is a conversation for a hallway."

"Yet I am afraid that is where we must have it."

The Knight Captain inhaled, and Selida saw it in his face: the flushed, abashed grimace. Then he fell to one knee.

"Lady Magnus—Emmeline—I have long held my tongue about my feelings, hoping to bring my suit when your year of mourning had passed, but tonight, danger has made me reconsider."

"Ser Aegison—"

"Consider marrying me. I am a third son of a noble family. I have served the late Lord Lydris since I was a page. Given the unrest brewing in the Tidelands, the King, I am sure, will bless our union."

Emmeline's voice was low, but even in this moment, Selida heard how hard she strove to infuse her tone with kindness. "Do not do this, Garret."

"Think of the Tidelands, my lady, even if you are not inclined to think kindly of me. The people grow restless under the rule of a boy of seven. Together, we will of course hold the land for him, until he reaches his majority, but should, Exeroas forbid, something happen to him, the people deserve a clear succession."

"Garret, you must never suggest such a thing. I will not have it."

"My lady, I am only being reasonable. The Fox is only so bold because he knows that if he takes this castle, he will revive the Tidelander resistance. Do not give him and people like him reason to target your son."

"Rise up, Ser Aegison." Emmeline stepped back from him, gently but firmly detaching her hands from his. "In my husband's memory, I beseech you: never speak of this again."

Selida flowed silently to her feet, in case Sir Aegison mistook Emmeline's empathy for uncertainty. But he rose, his hands as open as his expression. "I... must do as you command. But please, My Lady. Consider it."

Emmeline stepped back into the room, and closed the door quietly in his face. She saw Selida standing behind the bed. Two bright red spots burned in her pale cheeks. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"I will pretend I heard nothing."

Emmeline went to Lydris's side, and brushed his bangs back from his forehead. "Garret is not a terrible man. Nor is it a terrible idea. But I could not do that to my husband's memory or imperil my son in that way."

"Do you fear Ser Aegison would not hold to his word and preserve Wyvernsvow for Lydris? Or worse, harm him, if he had the motive to do so?"

"No. Ser Aegison is loyal. Blindly so, sometimes." Her voice was slow, thoughtful. "But were I to remarry, I would not put it past my new husband's family to prefer their line to inherit, over Lydris's. So there will be no second wedding for me."

Selida pressed her fingers to her lips. "You prioritize the safety of your child over the stability of the Tidelands."

Emmeline looked up, eyes sad. "They are one and the same."

"Believing so puts you at risk as well."

Emmeline's brows rose. "Will the Grand Cleric and the rebels prepare a knife in the dark for their princess if you tell them I said so?" A black smile touched the edge of her lips. "They might be surprised. They already sacrificed me once, and yet here I still stand."

Selida spread her hands.

"Will it be your knife?"

"I pray not," Selida said, sitting back down on her pallet. "I have enough ghosts following me around."

Emmeline stepped around the bed, and knelt at Selida's side. "If Lydris is the only hope for peace, everyone, on all sides, must work to keep him alive. There will be no alternative."

Selida stared past her friend, up toward the ceiling. "Emmeline, I will protect you and him, and all the people of the coast as long as Aluna grants me breath. But do not make me pick. Your insistence on this one, narrow path forward consigns many to years of suffering and suspense."

"If I compromise before I must, the world my husband and I foresaw will never come to pass."

Selida shook her head. "And I cannot stand by while our people starve, literally or in spirit."

Emmeline covered Selida's hands with her own. "Are you sure your life has been simpler, following the Church instead of following a husband? It seems the Grand Cleric asks quite difficult things from you, after all."

Selida squeezed Emmeline's hands back. "What is this womanhood of poisoned choices? Where are the violins, and the silks, and the dancing?"

"They will return. I see them, just on the horizon, even if you do not." Emmeline was silent for a long moment. "There is one other matter."

"Yes?"

"Is it true that Lydris saw a vision of Aluna?"

Selida felt her heart stutter. "I don't know."

"What did you see? I presume you took the pearl from him."

"It is still with the treasure." Selida swallowed. "When I touched it, I fell into some sort of seizure. Ser Kahldar saw it fall into the water, and we did not retrieve it."

Emmeline's mouth pursed. "So you saw nothing?"

Selida considered lying. "I saw nothing that would give us a tactical advantage in this siege. If the pearl was once a communication device, nobody on the other side is listening."

"And Aluna?"

"Is not waiting inside to guide us, not in any material way." She stared at the ceiling. "It's just us."

"Ah." Emmeline's smile aged her a hundred years. "The wisdom and power she passes through your hands must suffice, then."

"That does not stop me from wishing for more."

"Don't we all?"

"I know she loves the Tidelands, Emmeline. But what if none of this—"she gestured to encompass the keep, the siege, the whole of the world "—matters to Her, as long as we return to Her in the end?"

"Then she will not judge us for our mistakes, either." Emmeline sighed. "Speaking of, I believe you owe both me and Lydris an apology, for endangering him so. I understand why you did it, but you cannot keep looking into the past for solutions, Selida. You will break your own heart in the process, and everything else, besides."

Selida felt her eyes get hot. "I'm sorry." The memory of Lydris's gold hair, floating in the water, stabbed her through. "I should never have imperiled him for so little."

"I accept your apology. And I thank you for retrieving him, when I could not."

She had to work to get the words past the salt and tightness in her throat. "Thank you, my lady."

"But Selida. Don't be so foolish again."

She met Emmeline's eyes. "I won't." But it was Kahldar's face that she saw.

Emmeline was silent for a moment. "You must choose every morning, which miracles you petition Aluna to grant. Do you always keep a prayer of stone shaping with you? Whatever do you do with it?"

In her mind's eye, Selida saw the arches of stone that held the back half of the keep suspended over the waves. With her mouth she said: "Strengthen bones. Seal mouse holes."

Emmeline smiled. "That is just as well. The castle needs no extra drafts."

"Of course."

"Good night, then." Emmeline released her hands and began to rise. "Or shall I tuck you in?"

"Don't be so kind to me," Selida said, as she slid down into the pallet and turned her back on the warm room. "I cannot possibly accept."

Emmeline's footsteps returned to Lydris's side. "One can always be kind, Selida. Kindness is a lens through which to view the world, not a bag of grain that empties."

Selida pressed her arm against her face in a futile attempt to stop the burning. "Wake me if you need anything."