I forget about Amanthara's suggestion and go on with my daily routine. It is a boring one, to be sure: checking the seas for fish, spying on the duke's ships should they come by, tending my garden. I have tried to have my father join me here, but every time I ask, he refuses.

"I'm too old, Sina," he tells me with a sad little smile.

For a long time, I have denied that statement, but the last time I saw him for one of our discrete meetings (done at great peril to us both), he truly looked old: lined face, grey hair, knotted joints. I send fish and lobsters his way, to keep him fed, and potions to ease his pains, but he still will not come.

At least I can be assured that the duke, no matter his hatred for me, refrains from harassing Papa.

I'm in my garden when one of the selkie guards approaches me. The garden is situated in the back of the castle, where the spires are the tallest. I can see it clearly from my tower.

Gardening was not a hobby I pursued when I was younger. All my dedication was fixed on my craft. But I soon realized that I needed something else to occupy my time and gardening fit the bill. Flowers and vegetables and trees of the fruit and flowering variety thrive here, their roots sunk deep into rich soil brought to the island by merfolk and selkies. Standing in the middle of this vast oasis reminds me of how colorless Farbarrow was, with its dull shades of browns and greys. While I am not happy here, at least I am somewhat content.

"My queen," the guard says quietly, respectfully.

I look up and push the wide-brimmed straw hat back from my face, wipe dirt-streaked hands on old canvas trousers. "Yes?"

"One of the duke's ships is arriving, waving the flag of parlay."

Duke Lucien sends a parlay ship about twice a year. We have never come to terms in this whole time.

"Very well," I sigh, stripping work gloves from my hands and settling them in a wicker basket next to a trowel, shears, and three-tined claw. We will do this dance again.

The guard trails me as I walk through the garden and into the castle. Tiny seashells and bits of glass are inlaid in the rock paths, a nice contrast to the black uniformity around me. It took me about four months to craft that particular spell.

We pass through the throne room, down the long hallway, and out the front doors. Statues of sharks, dolphins, whales, and other large creatures of the sea line the walkway to the lone dock. This part of the castle is stark, foreboding—just as I intended.

The duke's ship bobs just outside the rocky barrier, a white flag flying at half mast. A single tower rises above the archway over the dock. I climb the steps, the selkie guard not far behind.   "Gentlemen!" I call out, casually leaning on the balcony. "What have you brought me this time?"

The duke is not an imaginative man, I've learned. Over the last sixteen years, all he has offered me is safe passage through the kingdom to the neighboring, landlocked principality of Lortham. Tiny, insignificant Lortham, with its border on the Hallsig Desert.

No, thank you.

The first officer on the ship turns and gestures to some sailors standing next to a large, tarp-covered object. My eyes narrow as the selkie guard behind me tightens his grip on his spear. The sailors pull and the tarp spills downward, revealing the massive barrel of a cannon.

No. I squint. That's not a cannon.

Eight long, thin barrels are connected to each other in a cylindrical shape, mounted to a sturdy oak and steel base on wheels. A giant crank sticks up from the back.

A sliver of ice slides down my back. I don't know what this is, but I don't like it.

"Melusine Fisher!" a familiar voice calls out. My fingers bite into the black rock of the balcony as Duke Lucien strolls onto the deck, trailed by a tall, sturdy boy with close-cropped black hair. My heart leaps and for a moment, I believe that Klaus is here. The shape of his face, his chin ... so familiar. But as the boy draws closer to the duke, I realize that it's not Klaus, but his son.

The wind tugs at my straw hat and I lift a hand to adjust it. My fingers ache as they uncurl from the railing. "Your Grace," I reply tightly.

The duke smiles; even at this distance, I can see that there is no warmth in it. "What do you think of my grandson, sea witch?" He rests an arm around the boy's wide shoulders. Klaus's son glances at his grandfather, heavy black brows knitting together in confusion.

"He favors his mother!" I call back, which causes the duke to frown. I don't know what the boy's mother looks like, but I know that was not the answer Duke Lucien was expecting.  He means to use the boy to goad me.

I will not rise to the bait.

Duke Lucien drops his arm from around the boy and gestures to the not-cannon on the deck. "Then what about this?"

My mouth tightens. The selkie leans down and whispers in my ear, "My queen. Shall I rally the guard?"

"Not yet," I tell him. Not until I know what that thing is. I could sink this ship in an instant, but then I would bring the wrath of the whole kingdom down upon this island. I cannot afford the blood such a war would spill.

"This," the duke continues as his grandson looks on, perplexed, "is the latest technological wonder to come from Markenbourg." He names the duchy where most of the kingdom's manufacturing takes place. "Do you like it? More elegant than a cannon, more deadly, too. Able to fire hundreds of bullets in rapid succession."

The duke strokes the barrel of the gun like a lover. By the Grey God, he is mad.

He turns to the first officer and says in a voice that carries up to me, "The sea witch is in need of a demonstration."

The first officer nods and begins issuing orders. I pivot, face draining of color, to the selkie. "Hurry! Tell everyone to evacuate to the tunnels!"

He nods and races off. I turn back to the ship, feeling a storm ripple under my skin.

"Duck, sea witch!"

I throw myself onto the flat black rock of the tower as a massive, deafening explosion shakes the tower. It goes on and on and on: a rapid-fire rat-a-tat-tat. I hear rock crack and crumble, splashing into the sea. The sound buries itself deep into my very bones, curls up in my marrow. I can't even hear myself think. My soul quakes in terror.

Silence.

Shaking, eyes wide and staring, I slowly push myself to my knees and peer over the balcony. The duke stands proudly on the bow of his ship, grinning as smoke pours from all eight barrels of the gun. Two sailors stand behind the monstrosity, panting, sweating. The deck is littered with dozens upon dozens of tiny brass cylinders that roll around as waves lap against the ship's hull.

Off to my left, rock breaks off the archway and drops into the ocean. Slowly, I turn and see the ruins of the dock floating in the tiny bay, smashed to pieces. The duke's gun has completely obliterated the decorative arch, leaving nothing but jagged shards.

"That is what one gun can do, sea witch!" Duke Lucien calls out. "Can you imagine what a dozen ships outfitted with two guns can do to this abomination?"

I tremble to even think of it. My ears are still ringing and I have a hard time maintaining my balance.

"I'm tired of these games, Melusine Fisher! You have three days to surrender, otherwise I will bring this stinking rock down around your head!"

Slowly, I sink to the ground, pressing my aching head up against the cool black rock. What am I going to do?

I press both hands to my face and rock back and forth. I do not cry; I haven't cried in sixteen years. But I moan and wail softly, muffling the sound between my palms. I will not allow the duke to hear my anguish.

"My queen."

I lower my hands and look into the faces of three selkie guardsmen.

"The duke's ship has left, my queen."

Slowly, I push myself to my feet and peer over the balcony. The duke's ship fades into the distance, then disappears around the coast.

"What shall we do?" the guards ask.

I lift a hand to my face, feel the puffy skin around my eyes. I am lost. I could conjure a storm and sink them all, but more would come. More and more, more than I could possibly keep up with.

The duke has me cornered.

"I don't know," I tell the selkies honestly. "But I will find out."

I have to. This man will not fell me.

Swallowing hard, I lift my head and turn towards the stairs. The guards stand back, bowing their heads.

"Bippi!" I shout, calling for the octopus. I require his counsel.