How to Accidentally Fall for Someone Your Kingdom Is Colonizing

"A dozen kids are missing! Buy the latest newspaper!" A boy swings the newspaper high above his head, sweat trickling down his temple under the sun's heat at the peak of noon in the town square. "Breaking news! A dozen kids are missing!" he screams at the top of his lungs, loud enough for me to hear even inside the fabric store.

"The border is in turmoil again," I whisper.

"We used to live—OUCH!" Muiren begins to speak but is cut off by Ondine's elbow.

"What was that for?" Muiren asks, rubbing her side.

Ondine doesn't answer. She simply continues browsing the silk fabrics and says, "Our best strategist is being pulled out and relocated to the human realm. I'm not going to say I'm shocked."

"What is the king thinking? It's not like Eldoria can handle the swarms of orcs alone," I say.

"He's gone senile, that's it," Muiren scoffs.

"I trust his judgment," Ondine responds coolly.

"You always say that."

"We don't know the whole picture, do we? Things might not be what we expect."

"As if there's a bigger threat in the human realm than what we're dealing with here."

Then it clicks for me. "Maybe the orcs crossed into the human world."

"Bingo! Why else would they pull Aegir in the middle of a siege?" Ondine says.

"Gotcha! This is perfect in every way," Muiren exclaims, pulling a particular shade of green fabric from the rack. The color is strikingly close to the royal shade—perhaps not exact, but very close.

"This green looks... too close to the royal shade," Ondine says, tracing the fabric with a critical eye.

"Oh, come on, Ondine! This fabric is practically begging to be worn," Muiren replies, clearly pleased.

"I agree." I nod. It's going to be the last day of their family—and possibly mine—in the elven realm. They should go out with a bang.

"You realize this could get us jailed, right?" Ondine says dryly.

"But it's perfect for the job! Let's buy this one and head straight to the Fifth Solemn Stone," Muiren says decisively.

I stand there silently. I thought I might have forgotten something. Turns out I was correct. I need to practice wielding the sea. May or may not be helpful. According to the family record, the sea chooses—not sure who. There's no clear pattern. But practicing until your deathbed will not help you appease the sea. Apparently, that has already happened before. My logic here: better try than nothing.

"Are we going to help her train?" Ondine asks, pointing at me.

"Yes! What else?" Muiren replies.

"What kind of help do you think we could give her?"

"Well, for example, we could calm the sea and she would try to provoke it!"

"She can handle it by herself."

"Bla... bla... bla... Ondine, just admit you don't want to lend a hand," Muiren says, gesturing comically.

"If I were in her shoes, I wouldn't want any useless extra hands."

"We could be there as mental support, you know—making sure she doesn't jump into the ocean in total despair?"

"Hello? I'm right here," I say, exasperated.

"Huh, she might do that," Ondine says thoughtfully.

"No, no, I'm pretty convinced I'm not going to do that," I counter firmly.

"She says she's confident she won't," Ondine remarks.

"I can never tell if you're being serious or sarcastic," Muiren mutters.

"That's because your intellect is on par with a goldfish." Ondine says.

"What's wrong with goldfish?" Muiren asks, genuinely puzzled.

"Nothing, if you're comparing intelligence," Ondine shoots back.

"That's a bit much, don't you think?" I say.

"Not really," Ondine says while glancing. "She wouldn't even notice."

"Don't you act like I'm invisible!" Muiren protests.

"Then maybe you should start swimming in deeper waters," Ondine smirks. "Ignorance is bliss," she adds, clearly done with the conversation.

"You know what, smarty-pants? I'll go look it up myself." Muiren storms over to the owner, pays for the fabric, and heads out of the store.

"You should tone it down," I say.

"No. She lacks general knowledge, and this might motivate her to learn more," Ondine replies. She steps outside, opening her umbrella as I follow. "If she doesn't develop a sharper edge, the nobles will shred her to pieces."

"That might make her hate you."

"There's a price for everything, and that's not a bad trade-off. Even if she does, that won't deter me from always having her back."

Her words leave me speechless. I swear she and Aegir are two souls separated at birth. Their minds work in strange ways—logical, but who actually thinks like that?

"I'm pretty sure Muiren won't show up at the Fifth Solemn Stone," I say as we walk on the newly paved street, our knight not far behind.

"That's a sure bet," Ondine agrees.

"I'm heading off on my own," I announce.

"Are you sure you don't need any support?"

"Girl, do I look suicidal to you?" I quip, appreciating her concern but unwilling to be coddled.

"You look like you're on the fence."

"I might seem a little... overwhelmed," I admit.

"More like you're on the edge," Ondine counters.

"I'm not about to throw myself off a cliff."

Ondine contemplates for a moment. She doesn't speak again until we reach an intersection. She stares at the clock atop a nearby building and then says, "Go to Creaky End. Aegir might be there."

"I actually plan to meditate or try to get the sea to speak."

"I'll tell Aegir to go to the Fifth Solemn Stone, then."

Stubbornness runs in the family, it seems. Defeated, I say, "Fine."

She still stands there as I walk toward the Fifth Solemn Stone. It doesn't matter if I'm with or without company.

Later on, I arrive at the Fifth Solemn Stone. I am standing at a cliff's edge –I assure you I'm not going to jump– I just stare at the five reefs that resemble the form of people pleading to the sky. The cliff is as tall as a mahogany tree above the sea's surface.

This place... I remembered stories of it, where the chosen ones stood and were speaking with the sea. But me? I didn't feel chosen. I felt like an outsider. All I could hear was the roar of the waves. If the sea refused to speak, I would find a way to listen. I had to.

I sit and let my leg dangle from the edge. I close my eyes, the winds softly blow my hair. The sea below is full of energy. I can almost feel it on my veins, something pushing against me—an invisible force.

I can't recall ever feeling this sensation. One force, one pressure, one pull—familiar but off. But then, a voice cuts through, soft, and faint, almost inaudible, "A Thalassin?"

The sound catches me off guard. A strong wind comes. I heard the trees creaking. I open my eyes. I greet by giant waves the height of it beats the height of the cliff that I stand on. I gradually take a lot of steps back. In an instant, the waves crash into the land.