Prince of Song & Sea

by Linsey Miller

“You always give in to the urge to chat,” said Gabriella, lunging for him. “Real fights aren’t fairy tales. No one will stop so you can monologue.”

A tall, pale man with the face of a jagged cliffside and more patience than the sea had salt, Grimsby had been an adviser for Vellona longer than Eric could remember.

“Anyone who can’t stand the smell of the sea is hardly suited for a life here,” said Eric, jogging after Grimsby. “My partner should be able to live in the bay, at least. I want romance and trust and intimacy. I want to know my partner.” “Kissing isn’t—” “I’m not talking about that,” said Eric. “Stop assuming I mean physical intimacy when I say intimacy. I mean closeness. Knowing your partner. A relationship built on a business transaction is a rocky start for fully trusting a spouse. We would begin on uneven footing.”

I knew I loved Eric for a reason

He wanted to be struck by true love—a meeting of eyes, a touch of hands, a breathless gasp—as quickly and surely as he had been cursed, not trapped in a marriage no one wanted.

BEING around people was tiresome for Eric. There was something exhausting about having to consider his every little action and word: the tilt of his head as he listened to a dignitary or the toothiness of his smile with the council. Sailing and sparring were never as troublesome, and he had assumed it was because they weren’t talking.

She tapped him once, moonlight sparkling in her eyes as she laughed, and she looked like how bells sounded, bright and delicate with a promise of depth yet unheard.

“I believe you.” Pushing herself from his desk, Vanessa approached him slowly, like a sea snake stalking its prey, until she was mere inches from his face despite his attempts to not meet her eyes. “Princes do not approach strange girls and admit to being cursed and needing to kiss them unless they are serious.”

OR BEING HYPNOTIZED BY SEA WITCHES, WHATEVS