Alexandra Christo

Hearts are power, and if there’s one thing my kind craves more than the ocean, it’s power.

“His face makes no difference.” I drop her hand. “It’s his heart I’m after.”

“So many hearts.” Her voice is angelic. “You’ll soon run out of room to bury them all.”

I lick my lips. “Maybe,” I say. “But a princess must have her prince.”

I will not falter. It’s a key part of my image: never upset or angry or deterred. Always in charge of my own life and destiny.