The Girl Who Belonged to the Sea by Katherine Quinn

Chapter Thirty-Four

Margrete

“I need to see Bash,”Margrete yelled through the churning mist of her door the following morning. There were two guards posted beyond, and she shouted her demand over and over until she got a response.

After some minutes of grating shrieking on Margarete’s part, one of the guards bellowed, “Stop! I’ll alert his majesty. But please, for the love of the gods, enough with the screaming.”

Margrete smirked, triumphant. Now all she had to do was wait.

It was another hour before Bash emerged through the portal, dark circles bruising the skin below his eyes. Had he lost sleep over the failed trade? Of course, he had. He’d all but told her he hadn’t found another plan to reinforce the gates.

Bash walked closer, and Margrete stood from her bed, a book tumbling from her lap. She’d finally given up and opened the pages of Weaponry and Defense.

His eyes drifted to the stone he’d gifted her, openly displayed against her breastbone. She hadn’t taken it off once.

“I was told you wanted to see me, but I was stuck in a meeting for most of the morning,” he said by way of greeting.

Something between them was off.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, unease snaking around her heart and squeezing. He’d put his walls up again, and it was something she wouldn’t stand for. Not after she’d gotten to know the man behind the mask.

Bash finally met her stare, but the spark was gone from his eyes. He clasped his hands behind his back, his towering frame rigid. “Our scouts have reported no sightings of your father. Not even in Prias. His keep has been turned upside down, and the Heart is still missing.” He sighed, a muscle flickering in his jaw. “But I’m hoping to locate him soon. There are rumors that he’s hiding out in Haldion. We should find him by the week’s end.”

“What if the captain doesn’t have the Heart with him?”

“Then we torture him until he tells us,” Bash replied without a hint of emotion.

Margrete nodded. Unlike with Casbian, she felt nothing at the thought of her father enduring pain.

“Do what you must,” she said, knowing what was at stake. “And please, ask him about Birdie. If he knows she’s safe.”

“I will,” Bash promised.

Hopefully, her sister was under her governess’s watchful eye back at the keep. Margrete couldn’t afford to think otherwise.

“But tell me—” She dared a step forward. “What is it you’re not saying? I know the trade didn’t go according to plan, but something else is bothering you. I know it.”

She stood her ground, crossing her arms.

“I’m worried about the Heart, nothing more,” he replied, inching back toward the portal and away from her.

Margrete wouldn’t let him retreat that easily.

“I recognize a lie when I see one,” she snapped, closing the distance between them and grabbing his arm, forcing him to look at her. His muscles tensed beneath her fingers. “Bash, what is it?”

A flash of doubt crossed his features, his lips parting, but nothing came out. Even the sea star tattoo on his arm curled in on itself, once again hiding from Margrete’s eyes.

“I see.” She dropped her hand. “Well, at least let me ask about Casbian.”

Bash’s nostrils flared at her ex-fiancé’s name.

“I spoke with him yesterday, and—”

“You spoke with him?” His hands fell to his sides, fists clenching and releasing. “When?”

Her spine stiffened, and she lifted her chin, fighting a grimace of regret. Damn it, she hadn’t meant for that to slip.

“Shortly after we arrived. I needed to question him myself. He seems...sincere.”

Bash let out a mirthless laugh. “And what do you know about honorable men?” The moment the words left his lips, shame twisted his features. He ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, I didn’t mean that.”

“Maybe you did,” she muttered, but he shook his head in response.

“He may very well be honorable, but we need to make sure. If he’s working with the captain, then Adrian will know soon enough. He’s nearly done questioning him.”

“What does that mean?” She already suspected the answer, but she had to ask. As she so often did as of late, she reached for Bash’s necklace, the weight of it comforting.

He looked at her from beneath a heavy brow. “If Casbian is telling the truth, then there’s nothing to worry about. Once we locate the Heart, he’ll be free to do as he wishes, and…so will you.”

Margrete took a step back, reading the implication shining in his tone and in his eyes. “Bash. I have no plans on seeing the count after his release, let alone marrying him. Is that what you think I want? Gods, I thought we talked about this yesterday. I made myself rather clear on the subject.”

Bash shook his head, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Margrete, if Casbian is an honest man who dared defy your father and ventured across the sea to find you, then he is a worthy man. Worthy of you. And I believe…” He took a ragged breath. “If he truly is all you claim him to be, then you should go with him when he leaves. There’s nothing I can offer you here.”

An invisible band wrapped around her throat, cutting off her air as she processed his words. “Y-you want me to leave with him?” Her hand fell from her necklace. “I thought…”

What did she think? That the king of a mystical island would fall in love with her? A man who had the essence of a sea god coursing through his veins? She was a mortal, a human who wasn’t even of noble birth, and he was a damned king.

It was laughable. Truly.

Margrete’s cheeks heated with embarrassment. She turned, giving him her back as she hid her shame. She knew what they shared had been real, but she hadn’t thought about what would happen after they defeated her father and found the Heart.

A chill chased across her skin as he moved closer, until his heat was only inches away.

“Princess,” Bash whispered, his voice cracking.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t. I understand.” After a long moment, she opened her eyes but didn’t dare turn and look at him. Instead, she spoke over her shoulder. “There’s nothing more to say other than to profess my wishes for Casbian to be moved to more appropriate quarters until he can be deemed innocent.”

Silence followed, the air saturated with tension.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Bash had made his intentions clear. He didn’t want her. Or, he did, but he couldn’t.

“Please leave,” she asked when Bash didn’t utter a word. She needed him gone before the tears inevitably fell.

“Margrete—”

He was so close that she bunched her shoulders, trying to avoid the way his voice caressed her neck.

“Please,” she implored. “I need to be alone.”

Seconds later, his boots thudded against the stone floor. Margrete waited for the door to shut before she turned around. A foolish part of her expected to see him still standing there, an apology poised on his tongue.

But she was alone.

And Bash had made his decision.