She shook her head, but her fingers were already busy untying her skirt and tugging down her tunic to cover her thighs. “You’re wicked,” she said, then launched herself out of the boat into the clear water.

I dived in after her, letting the pressure build in my ears as I surged past Zadie toward the bottom, drowning out the little voice in my head that said, I know.

* * *

Several hours later, I was stirring a pot of watery fish stew over the fire when Samiel entered our house, his body still glistening with seawater from his swim over. Sami was our best friend, and the only boy in the village who had dared play with us as children. Not only was our mother strict beyond reason, our father was also the governor’s best friend. Sami was exempt from Mother’s scolding, however, seeing as his father was the governor.

“Don’t tell me Zadie found an oyster before you did,” he teased. Sami was as competitive as I was, but Zadie had gotten lucky today. The oyster lay on a small driftwood table nearby, already shucked and sadly lacking a pearl.

Our primary currency, the rare pink pearls that were only found in our waters, had also become scarce of late, as the Ilarean appetite for them continued to increase. The pearls were used to make jewelry for the nobility, but they could also be ground up and added to skin creams and cosmetics. Most Varenian families had a small jar of healing ointment made from the pearls, but that was to be saved for emergencies, since many of us were naturally healthy from spending so much time in the waters that were said to make the pearls special in the first place. After the incident, Mother had used the ointment daily on my scar in hopes of minimizing its appearance, but stopped once she realized it would never heal completely.

Sami dropped a tarnished brass button onto the table next to the empty oyster shell. “Look what I got for Zadie.”

I tsked in disapproval. By law, Ilara was our sole trade partner for all the things the sea couldn’t provide: clothing, fruits and vegetables, tools, books, barrels of fresh water. Even our firewood came from Ilara. But Sami was the exception to the rule. He often traded secretly—and illegally—with our cousins, the Galethians. Over a hundred years ago, a small population of Varenians had risked their lives to set foot on land, then quickly fled north on a herd of stolen Ilarean horses. Those horses became the foundation of the Galethian culture, just as the waves had formed ours.

“Wave children,” the Ilareans called us. And that was exactly how they treated us: like children.

The Ilareans had access to resources we could only dream of—not just fresh water and food, but also sophisticated weapons and thousands of men. Occasionally a desperate Varenian would attempt to land on Ilarean soil, in search of an easier life away from the whims of the sea, but they were usually dealt with swiftly and decidedly by the soldiers who patrolled the shoreline. It was possible a few got away with it, but any violation of Ilarean law wouldn’t just end in death for the defector in question—Ilara could eradicate our people swiftly and with little effort. They’d made that clear in all their dealings with us.

I poked at the button with feigned indifference, though in truth, anything from land fascinated me. “And what will Zadie do with a button? Use it to fasten the trousers she doesn’t wear?”

“I’m making her a cloak to take with her when she leaves. She’ll be cold in Ilara.”

Sami knew as well as I did that Zadie was going to be chosen at the ceremony. It was as hard for him as it was for me, in some ways, because he loved her, too. He always had. I suspected that Zadie returned his love, but they both knew she would leave to marry the prince someday, so their relationship could never be more than friendship.

“That’s so thoughtful,” I said. “But you shouldn’t be trading with the Galethians. If you’re caught, they’ll hang you.”

“Then I guess I can’t get caught.” He smiled, revealing teeth as white as shells against his tanned skin. Boys didn’t carry the same burden as Varenian girls, at least not when it came to scars and sunburns. They had to provide for their families, however, and that was becoming harder and harder. Last year, two pearls had been enough to feed a family for a month. Now it took twice that many, yet somehow the quality of the goods they fetched was poorer. I had learned a long time ago not to ask questions about our trade relationship with Ilara—it was the elders’ place to worry about such things, not mine. And according to Mother, I had far more important things to worry about, like the sheen of my hair or the length of my eyelashes.

But that had never stopped me from wondering about the world beyond Varenia.

“Any news from Galeth?” I asked.

“There’s talk of an uprising in Southern Ilara.”

“That’s nothing new.”

He shook his head. “It’s getting worse. King Xyrus refuses to grant safe passage to the refugees heading north, even though the Galethians would welcome them with open arms.”

“Anything to bolster their army.”

“It’s more than that. The Galethians were refugees once, too.”

I turned the button over in my hand. It was engraved with a small, many-petaled flower. I’d heard of roses, though I’d never seen one before. I tried to imagine a world in which something as small as a button was deemed worthy of this level of craftsmanship.

“It’s beautiful,” I said before dropping the button into the empty oyster shell. “Just like Zadie.”

Sami’s hand closed around my shoulder, and I leaned my cheek against it. “What will we do without her?” I whispered.

There was a pause, then a cough. “I suppose we’ll just have to marry each other.”

I rapped his knuckles with the wooden spoon I held, and he pulled his hand away. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last boy in Varenia.”

He placed his hand on his chest, feigning offense. “And why not?”

“Because you’re my best friend. And worse, you’re the future governor.”

“You’re right. You’d make a terrible governor’s wife, anyway.” He snatched a dried date off the table and darted out of my reach.

“Do that again, and I swear I won’t marry you. You’ll be stuck with Alys.”

He grimaced. “Imagine our little shark-toothed children. My mother would weep.”

Zadie poked her head around the door and frowned. “You’re both wicked, do you know that? Alys is kind and loyal. You’d be lucky to marry her.”

“You’re right,” I said, chastened. I knew better than most what it was like to be judged by one’s appearance.

Zadie twisted her wet hair at the side of her head, letting the fresh water from her bath drip into the bucket we used to rinse our dishes. Zadie never slept with seawater in her hair at Mother’s behest, though fresh water from Ilara was expensive and meant to be saved for drinking and cooking.