He turned away so she wouldn't see his face. This was the hardest thing he'd ever do.

"You know I have three brothers. They're coming here. With their fleet." He should have known better. Should have seen it from the start. This would never work. Could never have, no matter what they did.

"That doesn't have to mean anything." She clung to his arm, eyes wide and pleading. "Come with me. Run away. You don't have to--"

He shook his head. "I can't. I have obligations." He felt the presence of the chip in his neck like a physical flame, a constant reminder of the invisible chains that held him. If he could have physically ripped it out and thrown it into the sea, he would have. Yet even thinking of it clenched his body stiff, unable to breathe until he replaced the brief rebellion with other, safer thoughts.

"What obligations could be more important than the song our souls sing together?" A terrible suspicion began to grow in her mind, the memory rising of a letter with an ornate seal and a feminine hand. She’d ignored it, convinced herself it was nothing, but now the suspicion began to shove its way back into her mind.

He swallowed. "You can't be seen with me. You have to go."

"Is it because of the tail? It doesn't have to mean anything. I know someone who can--"

But he was already shaking his head. "It won't be enough. You can't change the nature of who you are, and who you are is something that should stay far, far away from anyone from my world." The way they’d treat her made his gut clench in pure helpless fury. He’d do anything to keep that from happening.

"I don't care who sees me." She felt an uncontrollable wildness in her chest, something tearing that should never be torn, and it kept getting worse. "I don't care what I need to sacrifice. I'm not going to let you go."

"You have to."

She had to know. She grabbed his arm, trying to tug him around, but he shrugged her off. "Look at me!"

"Go away," he whispered, unable to keep his voice from breaking. He squeezed his eyes tight shut, the burning in his throat almost as strong as the imagined heat of his tracker. "You're not safe if you're anywhere near me."

She felt suddenly, terribly, calm. She backed away, heart still thudding like it wanted to replace the tides, looking him up and down. "Tell me you don't love me, and no one from your world will ever see me again. I'll never let anyone find me."

No, this was the hardest thing he'd ever do. "I don't--" he croaked, voice refusing to continue.

That was enough for her. She closed the distance between them in a single furious stride. Before he knew what was happening, she'd snatched the sword from his sheath with a terrible screeching of metal.

He could readily imagine her slicing off her own legs right then and there to prevent herself ever transforming again. "No, don't--" Finally raising his reddened eyes to meet hers, their eyes met for a single moment.

Rage had twisted her features into someone unrecognizable, no trace remaining of the kind and beautiful woman he knew so very well. He knew at once that he'd miscalculated.

She screamed at him, wordless and breathtaking, her ancestral power finally blooming at full strength.

So all we needed to do was break her heart, the analytical part of him thought, even as she drove his own sword directly into his heart.

She turned and crossed the deck to the rail in three strides as he crumpled behind her. His mind raced for something to say, some way to comfort her, to forestall the pain she was suffering, but the paralyzing power of her voice had locked him up more thoroughly than even premeditated rebellion would have.

He could no more call out to her than he could catch himself as he fell.

She vaulted the rail, a ripple passing over her form as she shed the illusion of humanity and disappeared into the waves.

Thunder crashed in the distance, the promised storm drawing nearer.

He mourned for her, but for himself all he felt was relief. He didn't want to bring danger to her shores, and she could never have lived as he did. The thought of her being tagged like him, dragged back and trained into compliance stirred his rage.

No. He’d never let that happen. Better for him to die here, now, at the very end of his chain, than for her to be dragged back with him.

She'd probably been wiser than she knew. He would never knowingly betray her presence, but so long as he remained alive there would be a tangible threat of slipping up.

This was for the best.

I'm sorry, my love, his soul silently screamed. Live free, as I never could.

That would be enough.