Severa peered into the darkness. As she leaned over the railing of the staircase and glanced back, she spotted it—a small flame flickering inside a glass dome. The fire burned weakly, yet it cast enough light to reveal the pale cheeks and closed eyes of a young woman lying on a bed beside the dome.

Severa was surprised that Einar hadn't waited for her before creeping toward the woman. Hastening her steps, she watched as Einar picked up the dome and let its faint light sweep over the woman's body.

The woman was young, perhaps slightly older than Severa, though her tall stature made her seem more mature. She wore high leather boots that reached so far up her legs that Severa couldn't tell if they were boots or pants. If they were boots, it meant she wasn't wearing pants, which struck Severa as improper given that her white lace blouse was too long and frilly to count as a blouse but far too short to pass as a dress.

Einar, evidently less concerned about her fashion choices, was more focused on whether she was alive. "I don't see any wounds," he said with relief, placing the dome back on the bedside table. The dim light once again plunged her peculiar boots-pants into obscurity.

Reaching into the dark, Severa felt for the woman's arms. She recoiled when her hands touched the icy skin. Quickly sliding her hands down, she found the woman's wrist. No pulse.

"She's dead," Severa stated flatly, as if the discovery mattered less to her than the question of the boots' classification. For her, it did. Einar, however, clearly felt differently. "What do you mean, dead? She's perfectly intact!"

"Dead and intact are two very different things. Now, hand me that light so we can search for anything else," she muttered, leaning over the corpse and reaching for the dome.

"No!" Einar shouted, swatting her hand away from the light. "She's so young, so beautiful. We can't just let her die!"

"She's already dead, Einar. That's life for you. Even beautiful people..." Before she could finish her sentence, Einar leaned forward and pressed his lips to the woman's.

"What are you doing?!" Severa stammered, shocked. Her surprise turned to alarm as the corpse suddenly sat bolt upright, gasping for air. Einar hastily pulled his hands back from her chest as the woman's wide eyes fixed on him. Startled, Einar stumbled backward.

"W-What? Did I do that?" he stammered, looking at the woman in disbelief.

"A kiss of true love," Severa muttered in stunned disbelief, her mind racing. Why didn't this revelation—one that seemed to confirm old legends—make her happy? Could her mother really have been right all along?

"What? No!" Einar protested, panicked and confused. "I was trying to resuscitate her. True love's kiss? Does that mean..." Searching for words, he made eye contact with the now-alert woman, who sat upright on the bed.

"You look awfully pale. Are you feeling okay?" the woman giggled, her concern ironic given her equally pallid complexion.

Einar's gaze drifted over her as he bit his lower lip—not absentmindedly, Severa noted. It was as though he was savoring the taste of her lips again. Disgusted, she watched him smack his lip free.

"Excellent! I'm excellent!" he finally said, his grin still tinged with confusion. "It's just my first time... Well, it wasn't what I expected. My apologies." He awkwardly extended his hand. "Einar. Prince Einar of Brimsjá."

"Prince Einar?" the woman giggled again, her pale cheeks lifting as her dark eyes narrowed playfully with a childish charm. "Well, imagine that! I've been awakened by a prince!"

Her wide smile turned to Severa, who was already dreading this new addition to their journey. Of all the dangers the sea might throw at them, it seemed Einar had finally found his match. The girl clasped his hand firmly, gazing dreamily at him. "Keep a quill and parchment ready—it looks like the legends of happily-ever-afters are being written again," she giggled towards Severa.

Severa shot her a suspicious glare, but before she could retort, Einar spoke up. "Don't count on it."

His dismissive tone pleased Severa at first; she had expected him to embrace a heroic role in a fairytale. But then he smirked. "Severa probably doesn't even know what a quill looks like," he teased.

Clearly, her instincts about him hadn't been wrong. Crossing her arms indignantly, Severa refrained from speaking further. It was a wonder she could read at all; writing was beyond the reach of common folk, and she indeed had no idea what a quill looked like.

The woman laughed nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear. "And Princess Severa of Brimsjá, is it? A pleasure to meet you. I'm Milena of Middelhaven. Though I wouldn't say I'm from Middelhaven—I was born and raised at sea."

Einar chuckled. "I wouldn't say she's from Brimsjá either. She's Severa of Sylvamarius."

"Enemy of Brimsjá," Severa added venomously.

"Ah, my apologies, Princess Severa of Sylvamarius," Milena said, her smile unwavering.

"And not a princess," Einar quickly interjected. "Though she does have royal ambitions. For now, she prefers to be called Captain Sylvamarius" Shielding his mouth, he added with a chuckle, "Which she also isn't."

Milena nervously tucked her hair again. "In any case, it's a pleasure to meet you," she smiled.

"Truly?" Severa replied cynically. 

"Where I'm from, we say, who needs friends with enemies like these?  Welcome aboard!" Milena giggled cheerfully.