The Queen of Agility took the Silver Coin under tow. Qelmar and the few survivors from his crew were bound and dragged below deck, where the hatch was barred from the outside.

  The sun had already slipped beneath the horizon, and the lamps aboard the Dusughbarian ship flickered to life.

  Pulled from the water, Kelen thanked the two boys who had saved him from drowning. He was still shaking, water dripping from him in thin streams onto the deck. His lungs burned. Every breath was shallow and ragged, as if they had to relearn how breathing worked.

  Someone threw a rough, thin blanket over his shoulders. The violent shivering eased. The cold evening wind now bit only at his face. His fingers were so stiff he couldn’t clench them at first.

  Voices around him sounded distant, muffled, as if he were still underwater. The world swayed, and it felt like the deck moved differently from the sea beneath it.

  He was stunned when he realized the boys were the same ones meant to join him on Belara’s first assignment. The prince thanked them wholeheartedly—and immediately took a liking to all four little rogues.

  Then a barefoot princess rushed at him and wrapped her arms around him. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  He felt her cling to him—and to his surprise, she was trembling just as much as he had been. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, and he felt the tension slowly drain from her. She had truly been afraid of losing him.

  “Hush… it’s all right,” he murmured, awkwardly patting her back. Then he remembered something Meradan had said, and the question slipped out. “I heard you told them you wanted to marry me. Is that true?”

  “It is,” she said, meeting his gaze.

  “There’s gonna be a wedding!” Moose squealed. “We’ll stuff ourselves with cake!”

  “As if he’d give you any,” Bones elbowed him.

  The young couple heard it all. “If you want, the whole cake can be yours,” the princess promised.

  “Better not. We’d puke,” Bones said flatly.

  “I love these boys,” Kelen laughed.

  “So do I. Even though they broke into my chambers in the middle of the night and woke me up. They saw your abduction and wanted to tell only me.”

  “Proper troublemakers,” Kelen praised them with a wink.

  “I hate to break up your celebration,” the admiral said behind them, with Jhalen beside him, “but what do we do with him?” He pointed at Meradan.

  The surrounding crew and soldiers stepped back, and silence washed over the deck. The air thickened.

  Those who had opinions kept them to themselves, shifting nervously and glancing around. Everyone understood Meradan held far too high a position to be condemned lightly. Speaking up could be dangerous.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  A hush fell. For a heartbeat, Kelen felt time itself pause. He stood between the warm glow of the lamps and the darkness of the sea. For the first time since Meradan had thrown him overboard, he actually felt himself breathe. He drank in the salty air greedily. Water still roared in his ears. Salt clung to his tongue. The weight of the ocean at his back still lingered in his shoulders.

  And through all of that, Meradan’s whispered words echoed: for the good of the realm…

  The same mask. The same poison. If not for those four little scamps, they would never have caught theSilver Coin. If Belara hadn’t reacted instantly, if the admiral hadn’t rallied the crew—if, if, if—he would be dead, lying somewhere in the black deep. The thought squeezed his heart—not just the cold of it, but the realization that his time with Belara would have been stolen. And Meradan would have sold the whole thing as a necessary sacrifice. He might even have returned to Dusughbarah hailed as a savior after negotiating… whatever lies he planned.

  That thought fanned Kelen’s anger into something volcanic. It lit something in him he thought long dead. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t courage. It was the will to decide his own fate—a choice the world expected from him, and one no one else could make. Not this time. Not after everything.

  And in that brief moment, he understood: responsibility now lay with him. Kelen crossed the threshold into a man who could become a king. His next words proved it beyond doubt.

  “Throw him back into the sea.”

  “That’s an execution,” the admiral objected.

  “He deserves nothing less. And because he put me through that hell, bind him. Let him feel what it’s like to sink and be unable to fight back.” His final words came out not as speech, but as a raw, unbroken shout.

  “I’m not sure we have the authority to execute a royal adviser,” Jhalen said quietly.

  “Death,” Kelen declared. Belara, standing beside him, barely recognized him. Where was the timid young man who had been afraid to pass false judgment during her second task? This was reality—and he demanded death. Prince Kelen. She stared, speechless at his transformation.

  “Mercy!” Meradan screamed, throwing himself at the prince’s feet. “I acted for the good of the realm!”

  He crawled across the wet deck, dignity abandoned. “I was the only one brave enough to act! I feared for my homeland—if you had seen—”

  He reached out to Kelen in desperation, but a nearby soldier shoved him hard, sending him sprawling.

  “Let me explain,” he begged, tears welling as he tried to kneel again. “Kelen, you know it wasn’t personal… I have nothing against you. I only acted for—”

  He never finished. Kelen snapped. Leaning on Belara for balance, he kicked the kneeling man in the head. Meradan collapsed, writhing as blood trickled from his nose.

  “And I’ll rid Dusughbarah of you—for your‘good of the realm’,” Kelen spat.

  “So what now?” the admiral asked helplessly.

  “Listen to Kelen,” the princess said. “He has the right. And he’s right. For the good of the realm, Meradan must never return. Today he saw the sun for the last time.”

  The adviser stared at her in terror, unable to believe this was real.

  The admiral nodded and gestured to two men. They grabbed Meradan, tied him, and forced him toward the plank whose far end hung over the dark water.

  He wailed and refused to step forward.

  “Give me that,” Kelen ordered Rascal, who had recovered the plank Meradan had used earlier to strike them. The boy handed it over without thinking. Kelen took it and bounded toward the plank in two quick steps.

  He swung immediately, slamming it into Meradan’s side. The man yelped, staggering and rocking the plank.

  The sun had vanished completely now, and Meradan finally realized—with absolute horror—that he would never see another sunrise. The sea beneath him was ink-black.

  All four boys stepped back instinctively. Bones and Moose turned their eyes away; they couldn’t watch anymore.

  Meradan teetered. His foot slipped. He fell onto his back, rolled—and vanished into the void. A scream burst from him, shifting into panicked shrieking. It lasted only a heartbeat before a splash swallowed it, and his voice was gone forever.

  Kelen stood frozen, absorbing what he had done. The princess came to him, took his hand, and whispered, “You did the right thing. We can go home now.”

  The admiral stared into nothing, shaken. The execution had marked him. He and Meradan had served Dusughbarah together for years, and yet it ended like this.

  The crew stood in total silence. The sea kept whispering, claiming the last echoes of what had happened.

  “I still hate passing judgment…” he said bitterly into the quiet.