Chance did not misunderstand her. “But will you?” he inquired.

She squeezed a handful of wet sand, hesitating. “Show me who you really are.”

He was taken aback at first, but then he slowly nodded.

First he became the human Yao: a young man, pale-skinned with yellow-white locs, inheritor of his mother’s smooth skin and his father’s fine bones, bearing a clouded, careful look in his violet eyes. Next he revealed the indigo lord: cold, proud, and terrifying, marked by unearthly beauty and the deep hue of moonlit midnight. For the last, as the world came to life around them once more, he showed her his undying essence infusing every grain of sand and drop of ocean and breath of air in the labyrinth he had made from and for himself.

Everything stopped—the waves, the sound of the ocean, the breeze, Julian’s sobbing, and the voices of the others as they debated over him. The only movement was the startled blink of the Mermaid’s eyelashes, and the only sound her faint gasp.

“Is that enough?” he asked her.

She was crying. He thought—he hoped it meant that she understood him just a little, but she began to speak, and he realized her tears were for herself.

“I wished for so much from life. I told myself not to be greedy, to focus on one thing. Skill wasn’t enough, so I asked for fame. Well, I got it. No one knows my name, but everyone talks about me. I’m . . . a thing made up by people craving something memorable. I didn’t know I’d get tragedy wrapped up in my wish. If I could wish again, I’d be content with just skill—not genius, but just the honest, ordinary skill of someone who loves each and every small miracle of order created from chaos.”

She was silent, the waiting silence of a woman who has shared much and is hoping for a similar gift. Chance cleared his throat and made an effort.

“I was never allowed wishes.”

She touched his hand. He rushed on to avoid her unexpected, unwanted pity.

“But I am in children’s rhymes and grandmothers’ tales. I understand what it is like to be made into a thing by the power of words.”

She nodded as if it was enough. “Come with me.” She pushed off the soft sand into the water.

He wavered, fearful at last of what lay ahead. “I . . .”

Her look was implacable, tears and all. “You must see this.” She softened. “Please.”