POV: Ravenna
The grand ball is that same evening.
Because apparently Thalassa doesn't believe in letting me REST after five days of travel. No. We must immediately throw me into formal court functions where I can be paraded around like a prize.
"You don't have to go," Theron says as attendants fuss over my hair.
"Yes I do," I mutter. "Refusing would be an insult. And I need to—" I don't know how to finish that sentence. Need to what? Make a good impression? Learn about Mother's homeland? Figure out how to escape my grandmother's suffocating attention?
All of the above probably.
The gown Thalassa provided is stunning. Deep blue silk that flows like water, silver embroidery that catches light and throws it back in ripples. Low back. Fitted bodice. Skirt that moves with me like waves.
It makes my white hair look even more striking. Makes my blue eyes—Mother's eyes—impossible to miss.
I look in the mirror and see Elara staring back.
No wonder Thalassa is obsessed.
Morgana appears in the doorway wearing emerald green. "You look beautiful," she says. Then, quieter: "Are you okay?"
"I don't know," I admit. "Thalassa is—"
"Intense?" Morgana suggests. "Possessive? Slightly terrifying?"
"All of that." I turn away from the mirror. "She keeps calling this 'coming home.' Like I'm staying. Like Cindravale isn't my actual home."
"We're only here a month," Morgana reminds me. "Two at most. Then we leave. She can't KEEP you."
Can't she though?
I don't voice that fear. Don't want to make it real.
Theron arrives wearing water kingdom formal attire that someone provided. Dark blue jacket. Silver buttons. It should look ridiculous on a fire kingdom warrior with scars.
It doesn't. He looks... good. Uncomfortable but good.
"I hate this," he mutters, pulling at the collar.
"You look fine," I say.
"I look like I'm playing dress-up." But he offers his arm. "Ready?"
No. "Yes."
***
The ballroom is UNDERWATER.
Not partially. COMPLETELY. We descend stairs into a massive space with crystal walls on all sides showing ocean depths. Bioluminescent creatures provide lighting—jellyfish drifting past, fish that glow blue-green, something serpentine and massive moving in the darkness beyond.
It's breathtaking and claustrophobic simultaneously.
The nobles are already assembled. All dressed in flowing blues and silvers and sea-greens. All watching us enter with barely-concealed curiosity.
Thalassa sits on a raised platform. When she sees me, her face transforms. Joy. Hunger. Pride.
"PRESENTING," the herald announces, "Princess Ravenna of Cindravale, granddaughter to Queen Thalassa of Aetherwyn."
The room goes silent.
Then Thalassa stands. Walks down to meet me. Takes both my hands in hers.
"My granddaughter," she says loudly. For everyone to hear. "Elara's daughter. Finally returned HOME."
There's that word again. Returned. Not visiting. RETURNED.
The nobles murmur. Watching. Judging. Assessing whether I'm worthy of being Elara's daughter.
"Come," Thalassa says. "Let me introduce you to court."
She keeps my hand. Possessive grip. Leads me through the ballroom like I'm a prize she's displaying.
"This is Lady Nerida, head of the healing guild. She knew your mother well."
Lady Nerida is ancient. White-haired like me and Thalassa. Kind eyes. "You have her gift," she says. "I can sense it. The healing magic." She smiles. "Elara would be so proud."
"This is Lord Castor, master of the merchant fleet."
"This is Ambassador Thalia, liaison to Pyrstone."
"This is Captain Aeson, commander of the water dragon guard."
Name after name. Face after face. All watching me with variations of curiosity, approval, suspicion, hope.
And Thalassa never lets go of my hand.
Finally we reach Theron. He's standing against a wall with Morgana and Saren, clearly uncomfortable.
"Your Majesty," a nobleman says to Thalassa. "Is it true Princess Ravenna is bonded to a fire warrior?"
"Unfortunately," Thalassa says coldly. "But bonds can be re-evaluated under certain circumstances."
"They cannot," I say firmly. "Dragon bonds are permanent."
"Are they?" Thalassa's smile is sharp. "There are... methods. Ancient magics. Ways to sever connections that should never have formed in the first place."
Ice slides down my spine.
"I'm not severing my bond," I say.
"Of course not," Thalassa says smoothly. "I'm simply educating you about possibilities. Options. Should you ever desire them."
She's talking about breaking my bond with Theron. About CUTTING the connection between us.
Over my dead body.
"Dance with me," I say to Theron. Loudly enough for people to hear. "Please."
He offers his hand immediately. We move to the dance floor. The music is strange—water kingdom instruments playing melodies that rise and fall like waves.
Theron holds me carefully. "Are you all right?"
"No," I whisper. "She wants to break our bond. She thinks—she thinks I should be with someone from Aetherwyn. Someone 'suitable.'"
His jaw tightens. "We can leave. Tonight. Just go."
"We can't." I look up at him. "Running would insult Thalassa. Would damage relations between kingdoms. Would make everything WORSE."
"So what do we do?"
"Survive two months," I say. "Learn what I can. Then leave." I swallow hard. "And hope she lets me go."
We dance in silence. Around us, nobles watch. Whispering. Judging. I see their faces—disapproval clear. Fire warrior. Common-born. Scarred. Unworthy of Elara's daughter.
"They hate me," Theron says quietly.
"They don't know you," I correct. "They see fire kingdom. They see outsider. They don't see what I see."
"What do you see?"
"The man who took an arrow for me. Who survived five rejections. Who loves me even when I'm being impossible." I squeeze his hand. "The man worthy of standing beside me no matter what my grandmother thinks."
His eyes soften. "I love you."
"I know." I smile slightly. "And I love you. Even if you look ridiculous in water kingdom formal wear."
"I DO look ridiculous."
"A little," I admit.
Across the ballroom, I see Saren and Morgana dancing. Or rather—arguing while dancing. Her face is flushed. His jaw is tight. Whatever they're saying to each other looks INTENSE.
"Those two," I mutter.
"Will figure it out eventually," Theron says. "Or kill each other."
"Probably both."
The song ends. We separate reluctantly. I'm immediately swarmed by nobles wanting to talk. Asking about my healing gift. About Solace. About Mother. About whether I'm enjoying Aetherwyn.
I answer politely. Smile. Perform.
All while feeling Thalassa's eyes on me. Watching. Assessing. CLAIMING.
Lady Nerida approaches. "Walk with me?" she suggests quietly.
I follow her to a quieter corner. Away from the crowds.
"Your grandmother loves you," she says. "But her love is... complicated. She lost Elara and never recovered. When she looks at you, she sees her daughter returned. She sees a second chance."
"I'm not my mother," I say.
"I know. But Thalassa—" Nerida sighs. "She's not entirely rational about this. She's been waiting twenty-one years to meet you. In her mind, you're not visiting. You're COMING HOME. Permanently."
"That's not happening."
"I know. But you should prepare for—" she hesitates "—resistance. When it's time to leave. Thalassa will not want to let you go. She may try to convince you to stay. Or—" she looks uncomfortable "—she may try other methods."
"What other methods?"
"I don't know. But I wanted to warn you. Be careful. Watch what you eat and drink. Don't go anywhere alone." She meets my eyes. "I loved Elara. She was my student, my friend. And I think—I think she would want you to be free. Not trapped by grief that isn't yours to carry."
She walks away before I can respond.
And suddenly this beautiful underwater ballroom feels like a cage.
Theron appears at my elbow. "Ready to leave?"
"Gods yes."
We make excuses. Exhaustion from travel. Need to rest. Thalassa reluctantly lets us go but makes me promise to have breakfast with her tomorrow.
"We'll talk about your training," she says. "About awakening your full water potential. About learning to be who you were MEANT to be."
Not who I am. Who I was meant to be.
As if I'm not already complete. As if I need fixing.
We escape to our assigned chambers. Separate rooms because propriety. But Theron stands guard outside my door like he's expecting attack.
"I'll be fine," I tell him.
"Will you?" He looks at me seriously. "That woman wants to keep you. And she's a queen. With resources. With magic. With connections."
"I know," I admit. "But we're here now. We committed to two months. We just—we just have to survive it. And then leave."
"And if she won't let you leave?"
I think about that. About Thalassa's hungry eyes. About her calling this 'home.' About her hints at breaking bonds and ancient magics.
"Then we fight our way out," I say finally. "Together."
"Together," he agrees.
I close the door. Lean against it. And try not to think about the fact that I might have just walked into a trap I can't escape.