Papa is waiting for me under an awning as I stumble off the boat, clutching the railing like a drunken sailor. My head hurts something fierce and all I wish to do is sink into a tub of hot water and never come out again. I'm thoroughly soaked and chilled to the bone, aching in places I never thought possible.

"Sina!" Papa exclaims, rushing forward with a heavy woolen blanket. My teeth chatter with the force of a carpenter's hammer as he throws it over my shoulders and tucks it firmly around my chin.

"C-cold," I whisper through numb lips.

"Yes, yes," Papa murmurs, laying a comforting hand on top of my head. "We'll go home, dear child."

I lean into his touch, trying to draw as much heat from his palm as possible.

"Witch! She consorts with demons!"

My aching head turns as the fisherman who tried to attack Bippi rushes down the gangplank, shoving past Mistress Krier and the captain who is carrying young Master Krier in his arms. Mistress Krier utters a long string of colorful invectives as she slips and lands on the wet gangplank. Master Krier, who was waiting for us on the docks, is torn between grabbing the fisherman and assisting his wife and son. At last, he drops to his knees to help his family.

"Witch!" the fisherman spits as Papa holds out a hand to fend him off.

"Back off, Jorgen," Papa warns, eyes narrowing.

"Did you know it, Einarr?" The fisherman turns in a circle, holding out his arms as the crowd that gathered for the search party's return slowly converges on him. I groan and shiver inside my blanket, in no mood for any of this nonsense. "Melusine Fisher consorts with demons!" he shouts above the pounding rain.

Papa's face hardens. "I told you, back off. Sina's been through a lot and she needs to rest."

"She called up a demon from the sea and assaulted me! Me! A man! Is that how you believe a woman should behave, Einarr?"

"If a woman assaulted you, Jorgen, you had it coming," Papa snarls, arm tightening around my shoulders. "Now, leave us alone. We have to go home."

"No!"

Jorgen's hand descends on my shoulder, fingers digging into aching muscle and bone. I cry out and buckle under the pressure, falling to my knees on the wet dock.

Papa shouts and there is a scuffle, followed by a crack. I twist around on the ground in time to see Klaus standing over Jorgen, holding the fisherman by the collar and smashing his fist into the other man's face. Blood spurts from Jorgen's broken nose, running in thin pink lines down his chin and throat, before disappearing beneath his shirt.

"Insult the lady's honor again, fool! Go ahead and do it!" Klaus shouts, arm muscles bulging as he shakes the fisherman.

"It's the viscount," someone mutters in the gathered crowd. Jorgen's face, contorted in anger and pain, suddenly pales as he recognizes who hit him.

"V-viscount T-torvold," he stammers nasally, blood dripping onto Klaus's shirt sleeve. "I—I—"

"Apologize," Klaus grounds out, fingers tightening on the other man's collar. Jorgen begins to cough and struggle. "Now!"

"I'm sorry," the poor man whimpers over the steady rain.

Klaus stares at Jorgen, then makes a sound of disgust in his throat before releasing the fisherman. Papa reaches down to help me to my feet as Klaus makes his way back to us.

"I know what you're going to say," Klaus says as he adjusts the blanket around my shoulders.

I stare at him, uncomprehending. "What?" I ask as my teeth continue to chatter.

His lips curl slightly in amusement. "That you don't need a man defending your honor; that it was barbaric of me to hit him."

Shivering, I turn around to look at Jorgen struggling to stand up. One hand massages his throat, the other covers his broken and bleeding nose. A reasonable person would have listened to me when I told them to stop their assault on Bippi, but Jorgen continued to attack the octopus. No, I don't think I could forgive Jorgen—especially after what he just said—but I could forgive Klaus.

"No, I think it was rather appropriate."

Klaus makes a sound deep in his throat and I look up at him, eyebrows lifting. "Really?" He shakes his head slightly in wonder. "You keep surprising me, Sina Fisher."

"I keep surprising myself," I tell him, leaning against his strong frame. Normally, I do consider such acts barbaric, but being around Klaus has changed me somewhat. It is unexpected, but exciting at the same time.

By the Grey God, I'm turning into a heroine from a romance novel!

Strangely, I don't mind.

Klaus chuckles softly, then says, "Come. I have a carriage waiting to take you and your father home."

"All right," I nod.

Klaus hustles me through the rain to a waiting coach drawn by two black horses. A footman wearing the duke's livery and holding an umbrella opens the door for us. Klaus helps me then Papa inside before hopping onto the opposite bench. The footman closes the door and I feel the coach rock slightly as he climbs onto the back.

I'm adjusting the wet blanket when I hear Papa make a strangling sound. Startled, I look up and gasp. Sitting across from us on the plush velvet seat is Duke Lucien Zeimet.

"Your Grace," Papa murmurs, sketching a bow, as much as the confines of the coach will allow.

I wipe rainwater and salt from my eyes, brushing back heavy black hair. "Your Grace," I say through cold, numb lips. Above us, the driver calls out to the horses and the coach moves forward.

Lucien Zeimet, Duke of Bekerhausen, is a slight but stern older version of his son. Deep lines crease the corners of the duke's blue eyes and his short black hair is grey at the temples. Where Klaus is clean-shaven, the duke sports a full grey beard. If you set a cap on his head and dressed him in canvas trousers, Lucien Zeimet could pass for a sailor any day.

"Sea Witch, Master Fisher," the duke replies formally, eyes cutting briefly to Klaus before focusing on me. "I hear that you had a remarkable day, Sea Witch."

"Sina," Klaus murmurs in his father's ear. "Her name is Sina."

The duke's lips thin, then he nods. "Sina. I hear you had a remarkable day."

Within the close confines of the coach, I can feel the body heat from three men permeate the air and slowly seep into my skin. Gradually, my teeth stop their chattering and my body loosens up.

"Yes, Your Grace," I reply, readjusting the damp blanket around my shoulders. "One of the village boys had to be rescued from the cliffs."

"And how did he get there?" the duke asks, idly picking at the cuff of one sleeve.

I glance at Papa, then back to the duke. "He set off in a small boat and got caught up in the storm."

Duke Bekerhausen lifts a thick black eyebrow. "Why in the world would the boy sail during a storm? Is he addled?"

Papa and I exchange a wry smile. "He did it on a dare, Your Grace," my father explains. "It's something boys here do. We don't encourage it, but you know how they can be."

"Ludicrous, if you ask me," the duke huffs, tugging on an errant string from his cuff. "My sons would never dream of doing something so reckless. But you saved the boy?"

"Yes," I reply.

The string on the duke's cuff snaps and he frowns, dropping it to the floor of the coach. "And what was all the ruckus just now? I heard someone shouting about demons."

Papa and I exchange another look, this one worrisome. But Klaus steps in and says, "Just a superstitious fool, Father. He claims Sina was summoning demons upon the ship."

There's a hard, sharp gleam in the duke's eyes. "Did you?" he asks. "Did you summon a demon?"

I start, droplets of water falling from my wet hair and splattering onto the velvet. "No, Your Grace. He merely saw my—" What should I call Bippi? Helper? Teacher? "—familiar."

"Your ... familiar," the duke draws out, brows knitting together.

"Yes," I hastily reply, fingers curling into the blanket. "He's a black octopus, sent by the Grey God to help me."

"Octopus," the Duke of Bekerhausen repeats. "But not a demon."

"No, not at all, Your Grace," I assure him.

"Did you know about this octopus familiar?" the duke asks Klaus.

Klaus looks at me. "No," he tells his father. "But it makes sense. She is a sea witch, after all, Father."

The duke considers this. "True," he says after a long heartbeat.

We sit in silence as the coach shifts back and forth. Not long after leaving the docks, it stops and the driver calls out, "We're here, Your Grace."

"Already?" the duke asks, looking out the window. "This is a beach."

"Our hut is down below the dunes, Your Grace," Papa says.

"Hut," the duke repeats, mouth twisting as if the word itself is foul. As wet and cold as I am, I fight the urge to comment on the duke's classism. Lucien Zeimet glances at his son, then states, "Very well. It was a pleasure to meet you, Sina, Master Fisher."

Papa bows. "Thank you for the ride, Your Grace. We are grateful."

"Mm," the duke mutters, looking away as the footman opens the coach door.

I peer past my father and notice that the rain has lessened somewhat. Papa disembarks from the coach and holds out his hand for me. I nod to the duke and smile at Klaus as I step down, the weight of the blanket causing it to nearly slip off my shoulders.

"Where are you going, boy?" the duke barks.

I turn to see Klaus stepping down as well. "I'm going make sure Sina is all right," he tells the duke over his shoulder.

"She has her father, boy," Lucien Zeimet notes, gesturing at Papa. "She doesn't need you hovering over her." His mouth is set in a thin, hard line and there is a clear command in his tone.

Ignoring his father, Klaus turns to Papa. "Do you mind, Master Fisher?"

Papa looks at me helplessly. "That is up to Sina, my lord."

I'm cold and wet and tired, but being near Klaus gives me energy. "I don't mind."

The duke draws in a deep breath. "Fine." He motions to the footman who closes the door and hops up on the back of the coach. The driver clucks to the matching pair of black horses and the sleek coach turns back up the road on the way to Rollinsville.

Klaus comes up to my side, gently adjusting the blanket. "I hope you don't mind me intruding on you like this," he says, more to me than to my father.

"I'm afraid that we don't have much to offer you by way of food," Papa says, walking a few steps ahead of us. "Sina was going to the market when the Kriers came looking for help."

"That's all right," he replies. "I was hoping to take Sina out for dinner in the village if she feels up to it?" he asks while looking into my eyes.

Papa's step falters, but he keeps on walking. "We'll see how I feel after I've had a bath," I compromise.

"It's a deal," Klaus agrees, helping me down the slope to our hut.