Einar placed his hand over hers, not to push the knife away. He was strong enough to overpower her. Was she waiting for him to do so? Why didn't he resist? Why did his warm hand on hers feel like the strongest counterattack she'd ever faced?

Severa shut her eyes tightly, fighting the storm within. She prepared to draw the blade quickly across his throat, desperate for release. He had deceived her. That look in his eyes, that feeling he gave her—it was nothing but a sinister force manipulating her.

If someone had to die, it had to be him. Not only was he the prince of Brimsjá, the kingdom that had ravaged her homeland, but he also had a connection to the vile creature that had killed her parents. There was no other explanation for the strange warmth he seemed to radiate.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Each beat felt like her last, as if her heart might shatter from the strain. Maybe that was why he deserved to pay the most—for the war he waged within her whenever she looked at him.

She kept her eyes shut tight. She wouldn't look at him anymore, and he would never again look at her. That warm gaze of his would vanish when she opened her eyes. His eyes would hold the cold emptiness of death.

She could still feel his hand on hers, light but heavy. As though he were already dead. Yet the warmth on her skin proved his blood still flowed. Voices screamed in her head.

"Let him go."

"He deserves to die. Get a grip."

"Don't do it!"

Were these the voices of her parents, haunting her? They blurred together into an unintelligible cacophony, yet they remained as loud as ever, even as their words faded.

Suddenly, Einar's grip tightened. The entire boat rocked violently, and Severa opened her eyes to push against him. But she had no chance to resist. The boat tilted so fiercely that she lost her balance, and before she could understand what was happening, the icy water engulfed her. The salty taste burned her throat as she gasped for air, water filling her lungs.

She kicked her legs desperately, hoping to find something solid beneath her, something to push against. But Severa knew the sea was often deeper than the mountains back home were tall. She let her machete slip from her grip, flailing her arms in an attempt to fight the water, but it swallowed her whole. Her mouth sank beneath the surface, and the last bit of air she had escaped in small, shimmering bubbles.

A strange, slimy creature brushed against her legs, and low clicking and rattling sounds filled her ears. Whatever lurked in the sea, nothing felt as terrifying as something as simple as water itself.

The cold numbed her arms as she stretched them toward the surface, where the stars and moons seemed to dance on the rippling waves. Suddenly, the stars and moons parted for a hand slicing through the water. It grabbed her wrist and pulled her upward.

Trembling, Severa clung to the edge of the boat and climbed back aboard, shivering from the cold. Her entire body felt numb. She coughed and retched, expelling the salty water from her lungs, and slowly began to catch her breath. Einar watched her closely, concern etched on his face.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently, once she had steadied her breathing.

Severa frowned. What was wrong with him? Something was clearly off. She couldn't get a grasp on him at all. How could she fight an enemy like this? "You... What are you doing?" she stammered, both irritated and confused.

Einar chuckled. "I'm sorry I didn't lead you to Brimsjá. Believe me, I never intended to deceive you." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I'm just Prince Einar, not Captain Einar. On the open sea, I have no idea where we are, especially after being unconscious for a while. I took a gamble. Besides, my guess is still better than yours, Veneficii."

Severa wrung out the bottom of her blouse. "Are you really willing to die just so I can have my revenge?" she asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

Einar chuckled again. "There's no escaping you, after all." He winked at her.

No escaping her? She'd nearly ended up at the bottom of the sea. She shot him a distrustful glare, but he casually looked away, feigning nonchalance. Yet she could tell he was hiding something—not his princely charm or noble intentions. She had long since realized those were just his best cards for winning her trust. He kept her alive for a reason he was less proud of.

Severa felt the quiver of arrows still strapped to her back. Her bow was there too, but now soaking wet, she knew it wouldn't work as well.

She let her gaze drift over Einar, studying him. Did he spare her simply because she posed no threat? She was nearly powerless now, having lost her machete. Meanwhile, the prince was armed with a sword tucked into his belt. She knew all too well what the swords of Brimsjá were capable of, but even if he were unarmed, she wouldn't stand a chance. Through his wet clothes, she could still see the outline of his muscular chest.

She sighed, staring absently at him. At least it seemed she wouldn't need to defend herself against Einar. He could have killed her long ago, just as she could have killed him. But she knew neither of them would do it—not yet, anyway. False hope or not, she couldn't bring herself to end it, not now.

"Are you admiring my muscles?" Einar teased when he noticed her staring. She saw him flex deliberately, and she quickly looked away.

"I was imagining how I'll kill you," Severa said as coolly as she could manage, though her heartbeat quickened.

Einar smirked, his expression smug. "Okay," he replied, clearly not believing her. "What did you have in mind?"

"On land, for starters." Severa grabbed the oars and began to row.

Einar leaned back, looking satisfied. "Sounds like a good plan," he chuckled.

Severa scanned the horizon, her eyes catching on a faint green glow in the distance. It could have been a rising planet, though she couldn't recall ever seeing a green one. It might not be Brimsjá, but in the darkness, it was her only point of reference—and thus, her destination.