We didn't wait for night.
Night was easier for thieves—but night was also when the Water Kingdom's "quiet security" turned teeth-sharp.
If we were going to start tracing manifests, we needed our first look in daylight. We needed normal routines. Normal mistakes.
Tadewi sent a runner with a harmless request for supplies—an excuse to move several of the refugee organizers down toward the lower harbor. It would look like nothing more than logistics.
And I went with them.
Because I could disappear in a crowd better than I could disappear alone.
Willow came too, hood up, posture rigid like she hated every step closer to the city.
"Don't scowl," I murmured under my breath as we walked. "You'll get noticed."
"I don't care," she muttered.
"You will when the person noticing you reports to a king."
She stopped scowling. Barely.
Tadewi moved ahead, serene as ever, speaking softly to a pair of elders about ration schedules. If anyone watched us, they would see a leader. A princess. A refugee organizer. And a quiet young woman with a cloak and tired eyes.
Not a thief.
Not a Primal Dragon.
Just a no one. A face in the crowd.
The Water Kingdom's lower district smelled different than the upper city.
Less polished stone.
More salt.
Fish, tar, damp rope, spice crates sweating in the sun. Harbor workers moved in steady lines, calling to each other in low voices. Boats drifted along the canals like they had assigned lanes.
Even here, order was enforced.
Not with shouting.
With expectation.
I kept my gaze down, but my attention was everywhere.
A ship manifest station tucked beside a warehouse.
A clerk stamping papers too quickly.
A guard posted where he didn't need to be—unless there was something behind him worth guarding.
"Over there," I murmured, nodding toward a side dock where boats unloaded under heavier watch.
Willow followed my gaze. "Those men aren't wearing harbor uniforms."
"No," I said quietly. "They're wearing the kind of armor you don't want seen in daylight."
She frowned. "Palace guards."
"That's what I was afraid of."
We did not go closer.
Not yet.
Instead, I did what I did best.
I listened.
Harbor workers complained about late shipments. About inspectors asking "unusual questions." About certain warehouses being off-limits now unless you had "the right stamp."
The right stamp.
That word alone could be a kingdom.
A stamp could be a gate. A stamp could be a chain. A stamp could be a child being moved as "cargo" with the ink still wet.
"Lyra," Tadewi said quietly as she passed me a folded scrap of parchment, as if it were nothing. "The clerk at the manifest station is counting wrong."
I glanced down.
Numbers. Ship names. Weights.
And a symbol I recognized instantly from the previous ledger we acquired.
Smuggler shorthand.
My mouth went dry.
"He's marking offloads that don't exist," I murmured.
Tadewi's expression didn't shift. "Or that do, and are being hidden."
Willow's jaw tightened. "We need the ledger."
"We need to know where the ledger goes," I corrected.
Because that was the difference between stealing proof… and stealing bait.
I watched the clerk. Watched the rotation of guards. Watched where he tucked his stamps when he thought no one was looking.
And then—
I saw Muir.
He wasn't supposed to be here. Not today. Not this close to the docks.
He strode into the lower harbor district with the kind of careless confidence only princes had—cloak loose, hair wind-tossed, expression already annoyed.
Two guards trailed him at a respectful distance. Not escorting.
Watching.
My stomach sank.
Willow noticed immediately. "What is he doing here?"
"Probably something stupid," I muttered. "He has a gift."
Then Muir stopped at the manifest station.
And I realized—he wasn't there for fun.
He was there because that night at the docks bothered him.
The clerk stiffened when Muir approached.
Muir said something I couldn't hear over the canal noise, but his posture shifted—less joking, more sharp.
A prince asking questions was a different kind of danger.
It made people nervous.
It made them careful.
It made them report.
Tadewi touched my arm lightly. "We should leave."
Not because Muir was the threat.
Because if we lingered and someone connected us—connected the refugee leader, the Earth Princess, and the Primal Dragon—to the prince questioning harbor records…
The king would feel it.
And if he was guilty, he'd move faster.
We slipped away into the flow of harbor traffic.
But I kept watching over my shoulder.
Muir leaned closer to the clerk now, voice clearly raised in irritation.
The clerk gestured helplessly—an exaggerated performance of innocence.
Then Muir slammed a hand on the table.
The sound cracked through the harbor like a whip.
Heads turned.
Guards shifted.
Muir's temper was a firework.
Bright.
Loud.
Impossible to ignore.
And the worst part?
It looked real.
Not staged.
Not manipulated.
Genuine anger.
Genuine confusion.
He didn't know.
The thought should have soothed me.
Instead, it made something in my chest ache.
Because if he didn't know, and his father did…
Then the betrayal was deeper than politics.
It was personal.
We reached a narrow alley by the canal where the crowds thinned. Tadewi stopped, adjusting her shawl calmly as if she hadn't just pulled us away from a moment that could have detonated our entire plan.
Willow turned on me the second we were out of earshot.
"You're avoiding him," she said bluntly.
"Yes."
"Why?"
I swallowed. "Because if I look at him right now, I'll either tell him everything or I'll lie so badly he'll know."
Willow's mouth tightened. She didn't argue.
Tadewi's gaze sharpened slightly. "You saw him at the harbor."
"Yes."
"And?"
"And he doesn't know," I said, voice low.
Tadewi nodded once as if filing that away like a piece of evidence.
Willow looked toward the city. "If Muir is asking questions publicly, his father will hear."
"Which means we move faster," I said.
Tadewi's voice remained calm. "And quieter."
I glanced back once more at the harbor.
Muir was still there.
Still arguing.
And palace guards had shifted closer.
Not to help him.
To contain him.
My stomach twisted hard.
"Let's go," I murmured.
Because I couldn't stay and watch him walk deeper into something he didn't see coming.
By the time we returned to the refugee plateau, my nerves felt like frayed wire.
The camp was alive with late afternoon bustle. Children carried buckets. Elders hung wind ribbons. Someone laughed over a cooking fire.
Normal.
Fragile.
I wanted to grab that normal and wrap it around my chest like armor.
Instead, all I could think about was Muir's hand slamming into that table.
The way the clerk had flinched.
The way the palace guards had moved in.
Like they were already anticipating trouble.
Tadewi disappeared into her tent to begin sorting the salvaged records again—scrolls and ledgers and old air-tribe histories that might hold a buried reference to smuggler codes.
Willow remained outside, hovering like she wasn't sure where she belonged in this camp yet.
I did what I always did when my mind got too loud.
I made myself busy.
I helped unload supplies. I moved crates. I checked the medical tent's inventory.
And I avoided both Muir and Revik like they were traps disguised as people.
Revik spotted me once near the cooking area and waved me over with that stubborn set to his jaw that meant he had opinions.
I pretended not to see.
Cowardly?
Maybe.
Necessary?
Definitely.
Because Revik would hear "Water King" and immediately want to swing a sword through a palace door.
And Muir…
Muir would look at me with those stupid sharp eyes and that stupid half-smile and say something like, You're lying.
And he'd be right.
So I stayed away.
And I hated myself for it.
At sunset, Tadewi sent a runner to call me back to her tent.
Willow was already there again, sitting on the edge of a cushion like she couldn't quite relax into anything soft.
Tadewi looked up as I entered, eyes tired but clear.
"I have found references," she said quietly.
My pulse jumped. "To trafficking?"
"To coded cargo," she replied. "In old port records. Not recent. Older. Decades. Enough to show this is not new."
Willow's jaw clenched. "That doesn't prove the king is behind it."
"No," Tadewi agreed. "But it proves a network has existed under Water Kingdom oversight for longer than any rumor should survive."
I sank onto a cushion, forcing my breathing even.
"Any direct links?" I asked.
Tadewi slid a scroll toward me.
"Look at the seal marks," she said.
I leaned in.
It wasn't the king's seal.
Not openly.
But there was a secondary mark beneath it.
A small, almost hidden impression.
Like an authorization stamp that would only exist if someone high enough had signed off.
I stared at it until my vision blurred.
"Palace," I whispered.
Willow exhaled sharply. "That could be forged."
"Could be," Tadewi said. "But forging palace authorization is the kind of crime that gets you executed."
I looked up. "Unless you're protected."
Silence.
Willow stared at the scroll like it offended her.
Tadewi's gaze remained steady.
"We have the beginning of a trail," she said. "Nothing more."
And nothing less.
I nodded slowly.
But my mind kept circling one thing like a wound you couldn't stop touching.
Muir.
I thought of him at the harbor.
Angry.
Confused.
Not acting.
Reacting.
He doesn't know.
And that should have made me feel better.
Instead, it made me feel sick.
Because the question wasn't if I told him.
It was when.
And whether he'd still look at me the same after.
Tadewi seemed to read my face like it was another scroll.
"Not yet," she said softly.
I blinked. "What?"
"Not yet," she repeated. "You will tell him. But not yet."
Willow looked between us, then scoffed. "You're going to keep lying to him?"
I bristled. "I'm not lying. I'm—"
"Delaying," Tadewi supplied gently. "Until you have enough truth to place in his hands without destroying him with only suspicion."
Willow's mouth tightened. She didn't like it.
But she didn't argue.
Not when Tadewi said it like that.
Tadewi poured tea again, the quiet normality of it almost cruel.
"We move tomorrow," she said. "Back toward the harbor. Quietly. We collect names. We watch patterns. We find the seam where the palace touches the port."
"And Lord Kareth?" I asked.
Tadewi's gaze sharpened. "We do not forget him. We use him."
My throat tightened at the name.
The girls.
The promise.
I nodded once, hard.
"We follow both," I said. "The network and Lord Kareth. If the king is involved in one, he will be involved in the other."
Willow looked uneasy at that.
Tadewi merely nodded. "Agreed."
The meeting ended the way most of Tadewi's meetings did—without drama, without speeches. Just a quiet understanding that the world had shifted and we had to move with it.
When I left her tent, the camp was settling into night.
Lanterns flickered.
Wind ribbons swayed.
The air smelled like tea and smoke and survival.
I walked through it slowly, letting my boots sink into soft earth.
Avoiding people.
Avoiding questions.
Avoiding eyes.
By the time I reached the cliff overlook, the sky was fully dark.
The sea below was a black mirror broken only by moonlight, silver thread rippling across its surface.
I leaned my forearms against the stone railing and let the cold air sink into my bones.
A few months ago I was just an orphan girl wondering where my next meal would come from.
Now.
I'm the first Primal Dragon in a thousand years with the fate of the world on my shoulders.
And the one who's trying to destroy the world is my mate, who is corrupted and can't remember who I am.
And I'm stuck in a kingdom promising sanctuary only to be surrounded by more monsters…
Behind my ribs, Kagutsuchi stirred faintly, his feeling of serenity slowly warming my core.
Njord, too, remained quiet, but still offered a small feeling of comfort.
The silence felt heavy.
My gaze drifted toward the moon.
And without really realizing it—
I reached inward.
Toward the thread.
I didn't yank.
Didn't pull.
Just brushed it cautiously—like how you would approach a feral animal.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then—
A flicker.
Not warmth.
Not pain.
Curiosity.
It slid across my senses like lightning skimming water, careful and testing.
Raiden.
I went still.
He wasn't pushing the bond.
He wasn't prying.
It felt like… he had noticed it shift and had moved closer to inspect it.
My breath slowed.
I hesitated.
Then reached toward it again, even gentler.
Not words.
Not a plea.
Just a quiet acknowledgement.
I know you're there.
I'm here too.
The connection tightened slightly.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—
Relief surged down the thread so suddenly it stole the air from my lungs.
Raw.
Unfiltered.
The kind of relief someone feels when they realize they aren't lost in the world all alone.
It lasted barely a second.
And then it vanished—
replaced instantly by anger.
Not at me.
At himself.
The thread snapped taut as he pulled back hard, slamming emotional walls into place like iron gates.
That shouldn't have happened.
My fingers tightened on the railing.
Of course.
Of course he would be furious at himself for feeling relief.
He's running away.
Typical.
Still… that brief flash of emotion lingered in my chest like an ember.
That interaction.
It was…
Unexpected.
Unexpectedly Raiden.
I withdrew from the thread slowly, letting it fade rather than forcing it closed.
The sea wind tugged at my hair.
"Am I going insane?" I whispered to the gods.
No answer came.
Not from Kagutsuchi.
Not from Njord.
I swallowed hard.
"Oh, so now is when you both decide to keep your opinions to yourselves."
Neither god answered.
Typical.
I pushed away from the stone railing and turned back toward the path that wound down into the refugee camp.
The wind had shifted while I'd been standing there.
Colder now.
Carrying the distant sound of waves striking the cliffside below.
And something else.
Footsteps.
Fast ones.
I straightened instinctively.
A moment later a young runner from the camp appeared around the bend, breathless, hair whipping wildly in the wind.
He nearly skidded to a stop when he saw me.
"Lyra—"
He bent forward, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
A bad feeling settled immediately in my stomach.
"What happened?"
"It's Tadewi," he said between breaths. "She said to find you immediately."
My pulse jumped.
"Why?"
He held out a folded strip of parchment.
The moment I saw the seal pressed into the wax, my stomach dropped.
Water Kingdom royal blue.
Not the public court seal.
The private one.
I broke it open.
The message inside was short.
Too short.
My eyes moved over the words once.
Then again.
And the ground beneath my feet seemed to tilt slightly.
"Lyra?" the boy asked nervously.
I folded the parchment slowly.
"Where is Tadewi?"
"In her tent. With Willow."
Of course she was.
I started down the path without another word, my mind already racing ahead of my feet.
Royal correspondence didn't arrive in refugee camps by accident.
It meant someone had sent it intentionally.
Someone powerful.
Someone who knew exactly where to find us.
By the time I reached Tadewi's tent, my pulse was hammering in my ears.
I pushed the flap aside.
Willow was already inside, pacing like a caged storm.
Tadewi sat calmly beside the low table.
Too calmly.
Both of them looked up when I entered.
"You saw it," Willow said immediately.
"Yes."
I unfolded the parchment again and placed it on the table.
The message looked even worse under the lantern light.
A formal invitation.
From the Water King himself.
Requesting my presence.
At the palace.
Tomorrow.
My jaw tightened.
Tadewi watched my face carefully.
"What do you think?" she asked quietly.
I stared at the seal for a long moment.
Then I exhaled slowly.
"I think," I said, voice low, "that either the king knows we're looking into the harbor…"
I tapped the parchment once.
"…or Raiden's gift just got a lot more interesting."
Willow stopped pacing.
"And if it's a trap?"
I met her gaze.
"Then we'll find out exactly what kind of king we're dealing with."
The wind rattled the chimes outside Tadewi's tent.
For a moment, none of us spoke.
Then Tadewi nodded once.
"Very well," she said calmly.
"We prepare."
I folded the invitation again.
Tomorrow.
The palace.
And possibly the most dangerous conversation of my life.