The cool summer night air danced against the side of my neck as I walked slowly, my arms folded behind my back and my thoughts coiled tight enough to hurt. The grass was still wet from the afternoon storm, and even now, clouds still rolled in the sky above, promising more rain. I didn’t care; getting wet was the least of my concerns. My mind was still in the library, still spiralling over what Isadora’s confession had revealed.

  It wasn’t just the implications that Duke Miller and Blackwood were behind Caspian’s state; after all, I had known they were working together to remove Caspian as Crown Prince. It was hearing Yssac confirm it, of realizing that Blackwood’s reach for power possibly went further back than I could have imagined that made my thoughts race. Tritetia had mentioned the possibility that someone had merely told them about the poison, but that only deepened the pit in my stomach.

  Yssac offered to send a letter to his father, claiming interest in Caspian’s downfall, hoping it would bait the Marquess into gloating, or better, giving away the name of the poison. I hadn't said much in response, but I’d seen it in Yssac's face; the way his jaw clenched, the way he stared at the ink bottle too long before writing the first line. It bothered him. Whether it was disgust at his father's cruelty or at the idea he had once stood beside that man so proudly, I didn't know. But his anger was real, the kind that lingered long after the fire dies down.

  I wish I could say it made me feel better, but all it did was confuse me more. I didn’t like how little I understood, how useless my memories felt. I had lived this life before, had died trying to get revenge, and yet the more I tried to learn, tried to understand the web that had ensnared me and my mother, the smaller I felt. In my first life, I had been a child, too small and ignorant to see the warnings even as they were shoved into my face. But now I was in the middle of it, right where the same arrows were flying, and I still didn’t know what direction they were coming from.

  I exhaled, sharp and quiet, and my breath curled into the air, the mist catching a sliver of moonlight as it dispersed. My boots pressed gently into the softened grass, the sound of wet earth quiet beneath my steps. I had thought learning about Thorne would help me understand Isadora, or perhaps even the empress’s reaction to me, and while I understood why they had wanted Illythia to examine me, learning about the missing prince only confused me more. Who was his other parent and why had he been targeted? Caspian was easy to understand, but Thorne wasn’t ever going to inherit the throne with Isadora as the Crown Princess. So why kill him?

  “Drift, little current, curl through the sea, Stars on the surface are winking at thee,” a voice echoing over the grounds made me pause, and I noticed I had wandered near the guest rooms. The voice was airy, clear and soft, sitting in a higher range, but clearly not a woman’s voice. It almost sounded like a young boy singing, and it took me a moment to realize who it was.

  Tritetia.

  “Hush now, my spiral, my bright drifting thread, Safe where the kelp sings and salt dreams are fed,” Her voice carried on the soft breeze, and I could catch the hint of the sea riding on the wind as well as that new, unfamiliar scent I had noticed on the night of my debut. I materialized my horns, and the soft sounds of water told me Tritetia was likely in her bath. By the time we finished in the library Tritetia seemed to have switched from freezing to burning up, her dress almost soaked by sweat despite how chilly the palace had gotten. “Whispers of whalesong will carry you far, Past coral cathedrals and soft-sleeping stars.”

  I slowed down, stopping as I stood on the corner beside her window. I could see the light spilling onto the grass outside her room, the window likely open to help with cooling her down. Compared to my changes, it definitely seemed sea folk had a rougher transition than Draconids did, and I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of guilt and fascination as I listened. The only change I had ever found annoying were my scales, but thanks to Caspian, I had learned how to manage them, and how to calm myself down in order to control my shifting. Tritetia’s transformation seemed to unravel her, stretching her too thin and burning through her reserves before she even had time to understand what was happening to her.

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  And yet, she sang.

  “Scales of the sea-light will glimmer above, Guarded by fathoms and fatherly love…” Tritetia’s voice seemed to hitch a bit as she sang, and I noticed the word she stumbled over was fatherly. She had mentioned she looked like him, and considering she was born a boy, it was likely part of the reason. Did she miss him, or hate him for what his blood was putting her through? “No storm shall stir you, no hunger shall bite, While I coil round you through shadow and night.

  “So close your sea-foam eyes, don’t fear the deep blue—The tides know your name, and I do too.” The song grew louder as I heard Tritetia stand from the water and I pressed myself tighter to the stone as she leaned against the open window. The scent of sea was stronger now and I struggled to take a deep breath, not wanting to give myself away. I wasn’t sure if her senses sharpened in the way mine did, but I didn’t want to risk discovery. “I wonder what you would have done, Father. Would you have saved Mom? Would you have saved me?”

  Triteia’s words were heavy with grief, but not the loud kind. It was the soft, lingering kind, the sort that crawled in unnoticed and stayed pressed against your ribs. Her voice didn’t crack, but I could hear the tension, like she’d practiced keeping it steady, the way I had learned to keep my hands still when I wanted to break something. I stayed where I was, unmoving, my breath caught somewhere in my throat. I heard as her hand tightened on the window frame, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. But no sound came—no sob, no sharp intake of breath. Just a long, quiet silence, like the sea itself had gone still to listen.

  “I’m trying to be strong, but all of this is so terrifying,” she continued, and I realized she must have been talking to the clouds. Sea folk believed that sea beasts became stars, trading the oceans of our world for the ocean in the sky, the twinkling light reflecting off their scales. There were rumors that once Aehorus finally died, he would be the brightest star in the night sky, a lantern in the dark for all sea-folk to follow. I wasn’t sure what I believed; after all, time had reset when I died. “It was easier… to just be silent.”

  The wind picked up, and I felt the soft patter of rain as it began to fall again, but Tritetia didn’t retreat from the window. Her silhouette stayed against the faint glow of candlelight, unmoving, shoulders slouched in quiet thought. She didn’t flinch at the rain or even seem to notice it. Just stood there, eyes lifted toward the clouds as if the answer might be written between the stars waiting to break through. As if her father could hear her.

  “I’ll… keep trying.” she whispered, more to herself than anyone. Her voice was resolute this time, thin but held together by something brittle and sharp. “I… don’t want to be invisible again. I won’t let that future happen.”

  I covered my mouth to hide my chuckles, closing my eyes as the rainwater ran down my face. I was so caught up in my own fear and worries that I had forgotten why Tritetia was helping me in the first place; she was driven by the same fear. The fear of losing the one person who meant everything to her, the only person left in her life, her own mother. She was driven to help me save mine so I would help her save hers and I took a deep breath, listening to see if she would say more.

  Tritetia didn’t speak again; instead she starting humming the lullaby, the scent of the ocean fading as she stood and stared out at the rain. Slowly and carefully, I headed away from the window, knowing I needed to slip back inside. If Tavian or Nyssara found me soaking wet, I would never hear the end of it and considering they believed Caspian was merely sick, I didn’t need to give Isadora a reason to hover over me. Until we had the name of the poison, it was better to keep her away.

  The rain started come down in heavy sheets as it chased me across the courtyard, soaking through my shirt and plastering my hair to my face. I didn’t bother to rush, even as the gravel grew slick beneath my boots. The night was still warm, despite the storm, and the feeling of the rain against my skin was grounding. Cold, heavy, and real.

  The warm glow of the corridor windows came into view, and I circled around to the servant’s side entrance to avoid drawing attention. Compared to when I had left, I felt oddly calm, as if the rain and Tritetia’s conviction had washed away all my worries. We would wait for Yssac’s letter, and we would allow the Marquess to reveal the truth himself. Until then,

  I just had to wait.