Mamta lost composure exactly once.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
But enough for the water around them to sharpen with attention.
"Are you kidding?"
The words came out harsher than intended, distorted slightly beneath the sea.
The messengers stilled immediately.
Even the currents suddenly felt quieter.
Mamta looked between all of them in open disbelief now.
"Which part are you not understanding?"
The younger prince watched her carefully.
Not offended.
Interested.
Which was somehow worse.
Mamta pointed vaguely upward toward the black ocean above them.
"I just got attacked by some seaweed nightmare creature trying to drown me," she said. "I don't even know what that thing was."
"Kelp-wraith," the student supplied calmly.
"Fantastic. Good to know."
The younger prince's mouth twitched faintly again.
Mamta continued before anyone could interrupt.
"When I finally got free and was trying to reach the nearest shore alive, these two appeared—"
She gestured toward the prince and the student.
"—dragged me halfway across the ocean, fed me glowing purple seaweed with absolutely no explanation whatsoever, and now apparently I'm breathing underwater because of it."
The messengers exchanged brief looks.
Mamta noticed immediately.
Good.
Maybe now someone here would acknowledge how insane this sounded from a normal human perspective.
"And then," she continued, voice flattening dangerously, "they guided me through underwater predator territory while every horrifying thing in this ocean stared at me like I accidentally wandered into the wrong food chain."
The younger prince actually looked mildly amused now.
Mamta narrowed her eyes at him instantly.
"This is not funny."
"A little," he said.
Unbelievable.
Mamta looked back toward the lead messenger before she lost patience completely.
"I did NOT survive the currents alone," she said firmly. "They navigated everything. They protected me. They knew where to move."
She pointed toward herself again.
"I was just trying not to die."
That finally quieted the atmosphere differently.
Less political.
More analytical.
Mamta pressed the advantage immediately.
"You keep saying I survived Thornmere currents like I conquered the ocean personally."
Her expression flattened completely.
"I absolutely did not."
The student crossed his arms slowly.
"You adapted quickly."
"I adapted because the alternative was drowning."
"Most humans panic."
"I did panic."
"No," the student said calmly. "You calculated."
Mamta opened her mouth.
Closed it again.
That was annoyingly accurate.
The younger prince tilted his head slightly, studying her again with that infuriatingly observant gaze.
"You noticed current patterns after less than an hour."
"I noticed the water trying to kill me repeatedly."
"Exactly."
Mamta stared at him.
Was this entire civilization incapable of hearing normal survival explanations?
Finally she exhaled sharply.
"Look. I understand how this appears from your side."
The messenger waited silently.
"But from MY side?" Mamta continued. "This feels very different."
Her voice lowered slightly then.
More honest.
"I have no power here."
That landed harder underwater than she expected.
Because suddenly nobody interrupted.
Nobody smirked.
Nobody analyzed.
Mamta folded her arms tighter unconsciously.
"You are all stronger than me. Faster than me. Built for this environment in ways I literally cannot understand yet."
Her eyes flicked briefly toward the endless dark water surrounding the reef structures.
"I don't know your laws. Your politics. Your clans. Your boundaries."
Then back toward them.
"So when a group of apex predators decide I go with them somewhere..."
She shrugged once.
Small movement.
"...you go with them and hope they don't kill you."
The silence afterward felt heavier.
Not hostile.
Thinking.
Mamta realized dimly that maybe underwater people weren't used to hearing themselves described like that.
Predators.
But what else was she supposed to call them?
Beautiful didn't cancel dangerous.
The younger prince's gaze sharpened slightly after that word.
Not insulted.
Reflective.
Like he was turning the concept around internally.
Mamta rubbed once tiredly at her temple.
"I just need to get back on land, sir."
The last word came automatically.
Human habit.
Respect under pressure.
And for the first time since this conversation began, her calm slipped enough for something else to show underneath.
Fear.
Not visible in her expression exactly.
Visible in the precision.
Because Mamta understood something terrifying now:
If Kesh arrived, her survival odds changed again.
Another variable.
Another system.
Another gamble.
And she was getting very tired of gambling her life against civilizations she didn't understand.
The messenger noticed it too.
Of course he did.
"You fear Kesh involvement."
Not a question.
Mamta answered honestly.
"Yes."
"Why."
Because every time larger powers noticed me, my life got worse.
The thought came instantly.
But she couldn't say that.
So instead:
"Because the more complicated this becomes, the harder leaving becomes."
The student studied her face carefully.
"Leaving matters that much?"
Mamta laughed once.
Short.
Humorless.
"You have no idea."
Something shifted subtly in the younger prince's expression then.
Not softness.
Recognition maybe.
Like for one brief second he saw not an anomaly or political inconvenience...
but a person exhausted from surviving too many systems already.
Then it vanished again beneath composure.
The messenger finally spoke after a long silence.
"Kesh will still ask questions."
Mamta closed her eyes briefly.
Of course they would.
The younger prince looked toward the distant reef towers where glowing currents spiraled between impossible underwater architecture.
Then back toward the messenger.
"I'll handle the explanation."
That changed the atmosphere instantly.
The messenger straightened slightly.
Even the student looked toward him now.
Authority shifted again.
Mamta noticed immediately.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The younger prince turned toward her afterward.
And this time when he spoke, his tone lost most of its earlier amusement.
"Then stop looking like you're waiting for execution."
Mamta blinked.
Because the worst part?
She hadn't realized she looked like that at all.