Prince Rasmus was strolling across the deck in a military uniform, flanked by royal guards, a grim-faced Joran at his side. At the sight of the young drüskelle, Nina felt her rage return. She’d pushed it aside for Hanne’s sake, to keep them both safe, but there would be a reckoning. Hanne might wish for Nina to look to the future, but Nina couldn’t do that until she’d made peace with the ghosts of her past.

“What is the whelp doing here?” Redvin muttered. He managed a forced smile. “Your Highness, I had no idea you’d be joining us aboard Leviathan.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s only that it’s so much safer in Djerholm with the rest of the royal family.”

“Leviathan’s Mouth is safe enough for Commander Brum’s daughter. I think a fragile princeling like myself might dare it too. Especially when my country is at war. Besides, the Ravkans will need someone to surrender to. Come, Hanne, we will watch the invasion together.” He held out his arm.

Redvin stepped in front of Hanne. It was the move of a soldier, not a diplomat. One did not thwart a crown prince’s desires.

“What are you doing, Redvin?” whispered Ylva, panicked. “It is the prince’s right. Go on, Hanne. Mila—”

“Mila can remain with you,” said the prince. “I wouldn’t want to leave you alone, Ylva.”

At that Ylva froze, unsure of what to do. Hanne could not go with the prince unchaperoned.

Joran gave the faintest shake of his head, but Nina didn’t know how to stop this. She clung to Hanne’s hand.

“I’d prefer to have my friend with me,” said Hanne.

“But your friend is not invited,” said the prince.

“Your Highness…” Ylva began, taking hold of Hanne’s arm. But the prince’s stare brooked no opposition.

Hanne had never been alone with the prince before. It was not acceptable or appropriate. Unless he intended to offer her the promise of marriage. Was that what this was? Did the prince mean to make Hanne his bride or simply use her as a pawn in his ongoing struggle with Brum? Both could be true. If he took her to the observation tower without Mila there to act as chaperone, he would have to offer marriage or Hanne’s reputation would be ruined. No one would offer for her. And if he did propose, Hanne would have to say yes. Nina wanted to scream. They should have run last night, away from the palace, away from all of it. But this was the disaster she’d built. She’d placed herself and Hanne between the prince and Brum, a bulwark against war, and now they would break like Sturmhond’s blockade.

“It will be fine,” Hanne said. In Nina’s ear, she murmured, “We’ll find a way out. There’s something worth salvaging in him. I know it.”