Aramis drew in a shaky breath—and then yanked Galen into a hug. He winced, and hugged her back, burying his face in his sister’s shoulder. With their twin circlets, they were mirror images of each other. They’d offered Aramis the original Skybreaker crown at her coronation—a monstrous, gaudy thing of terrible weight, constructed of solid gold waves. She’d politely declined, opting to keep the plain gold circlet she’d worn her entire life.

Aramis looked over Galen’s shoulder at Percy and jabbed a threatening finger at him. “If anything happens to my baby brother…”

“I’m a minute older than you,” Galen complained.

Percy’s eyes were only on Galen. “I’ll protect him.” He cleared his throat. “I promise.”

Ranka nudged him and muttered, “Useless.”

He glared at her and batted her hand away.

Galen clapped his hands together, his entire face alight. “Well, that’s it, then. Ranka stays, and I go with Percy. It works out perfectly.”

Aramis edged closer to Ranka until their fingers were brushing. When Aramis looked at her, her eyes held a question, and Ranka wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her days proving the depth of her yes.

“Yes,” said Queen Aramis. “I suppose it does.”

Aramis and Ranka followed the ship on foot, walking along the coast as wind carried the vessel toward the pale horizon. At first they could still make out Percy and Galen—one tall and lanky, the other short and stout, never leaving each other’s side. The clouds churned overhead, twisting as if manipulated by a goddess’s hand. Yet it was not some distant deity meddling with the sky, but a prince.

When they reached the beach and could follow the ship no farther, Ranka and Aramis kicked their sandals off and sat, burying their toes in the warm sand. Aramis watched the horizon with a quiet intensity, as though willing her brother back to shore.

“They’re going to get in so much trouble,” Aramis sighed, wringing her hands. “I wonder if Galen will be scared. Or bored. It’s an awfully small ship.”

“I think he’ll be plenty distracted with Percy aboard. He likes him.”

“So? Galen likes everyone.”

Ranka turned to stare at her to see if she was kidding. “For a girl as sharp as you are, you are terribly dense.”

“You can’t possibly mean—Galen and Percy—you’re sure?”

“Aramis,” Ranka said slowly. “They are quite literally sailing off into the sunset together.”

“That little worm. He didn’t even tell me!”

On the horizon, the ship had shrunk to a smidge of color against an endless blue. It could have been a painting, the sails growing smaller, and the clouds settling as the winds resumed their normal paths.

“Do you envy them?” Ranka asked softly.

Do you wish you were leaving too?

Aramis paused and shook her head. “Do you?”