"We need to go," I tell Klaus a few hours later. He murmurs something unintelligible into my hair and pulls me closer in the narrow bed. "Hm?"

"I said, she's not likely to leave the castle. We have time."

I sit up, hair cascading over my shoulder. "Unfortunately, we do not. The Sea King may be harassing my people by now." There might not even be an island for the duke to destroy, for all I know.

Klaus tips his head back, fingers brushing lightly over my skin. "All right," he concedes with a small sigh. He rises and kisses my bare shoulder. "I'll leave first and head for the castle. I'll have a guard let you in through the back gate."

My lips twitch. "The whore's gate?"

He winces. "The only whores who come through there are my father's. Much to my mother's disapproval."

"Mm."

Klaus looks into my eyes, holding my gaze for several heartbeats before throwing off the coverlet and striding, naked, to a small chest in the corner. I wrap my arms around my knees and watch as he lifts the lid and pulls out a lightweight, grey traveling cloak. "Is that to be my disguise?" I ask with a laugh.

"A distraction from your beauty," Klaus declares, laying it on the bed before taking his clothes and going into the adjoining bathing room. He emerges a few minutes later, adjusting the collar of his tunic. "Wait half an hour after I leave, then go to the castle. When you get to the back gate, ask for—"

"Pellor Nielsen?" I finish with a grin.

His smile broadens. "Always the more clever of us two," he says, coming over to the small bed and kissing me. "I will see you soon, my love."

I watch as he exits the room, then smooth my hand over the rumpled bed sheets. I've lived in such a state of pessimism that it's hard to think positively. Well, as I told Klaus, I can't waste any more time lounging around. I slip out of bed and go to the bathing room to freshen up. Once I'm clean and dressed, I throw on Klaus's cloak. I'm not sure why there is a woman's cloak in here; perhaps it's something provided by the brothel. In any case, I settle the hood over my hair and tuck in any errant strands.

By the time I'm completely dressed, Klaus's half-hour has passed and I leave the room. Music from below drifts up the stairs as I descend, growing louder and more raucous as the day spins toward noon. I push through the crowd, keeping my head down as I walk toward the door.

Gregor, the proprietor, is still in the same spot as when I left. He lifts his chin, ash dropping from a fresh cigar onto the floor. He nods once and shifts to hold the door open for me.

Odd, but I thank him and exit the tavern into the relative quiet of Speedwell Street. I join the flow of pedestrians and follow the current back toward the castle.

The usual line of merchants and supplicants waits at the main gate. I don't bother to look for a certain red-bearded guardsman and head left, where a sad-looking grey nag pulling a refuse cart emerges. The stink that emanates from the cart is awful and I draw a fold of the cloak around my nose as we pass. The man driving the cart appears to have lost all sense of smell, for he sits unperturbed on the board, loosely holding the nag's reins.

A small gatehouse sits at the entrance of the back gate. A young man lounges outside on a chair, idly picking his nails. He looks up as I approach, hand on his sword.

"State your business."

"I'm here to see Pellor Nielsen."

The boy blinks, but an older man steps out of the gatehouse. "Follow me," he says, opening the gate and showing me through.

"Huh?" says the boy, confused, but the elder guard shakes his head. The boy sinks back to his post and resumes cleaning his fingernails, stealing glances as I pass.

My hands knot in the fabric of the cloak as the guard leads me down a long cobblestone walkway. Maids and other servants traverse to and fro, ignoring us as they go about their usual errands. "This way," the guard says, leading me down a short, narrow passage that ends in a heavy oak door.

I hesitate, then the door suddenly opens to admit a young man wearing a stained chef's coat. He clutches a cigarillo in one hand and a match in the other. The guard cocks his head and gestures for me to go inside. I start breathing again and duck under his arm and enter the kitchen.

We move around tables and dozens of sharp knives and cleavers, the multitude of cooks paying us no heed as they go about their business. I barely can keep up with the guard's pace as he leads me through yet another door and into another hall.

Am I being led somewhere dangerous? I wonder, clutching the cloak. Did the duke find out and I'm headed to the dungeons?

But no, another door opens onto a broad patio overlooking the sea. The scent of salt and brine is a balm to my nerves and I take a deep, fortifying breath. The sea air caresses my skin, reminding me of who and what I am.

"My lord," the guard says, bowing to a figure standing at the far end of the patio, his back to us.

Klaus turns around and smiles. "Thank you, Boris."

The elder guard nods, bows again, then leaves us alone. Klaus walks over to me and takes my hand, drawing me forward. "What do you think?" he asks, making a broad, sweeping gesture with his free arm.

I slowly cross terracotta tile infused with bits of green and blue glass, marveling at the serenity of this place. The patio is a large half-moon, with several strange trees and shrubs sitting in blue and green glazes pots. Overhead, massive oak beams stretch the length and breadth of the area; small, colorful lanterns hang from the beams. In the center of the patio is a large white fire pit, surrounded by white oak chairs with red and blue cushions.

"It's like a little oasis," I remark.

Klaus smiles. "My mother designed it to be a little sliver of home. She likes to spend most days out here with her ladies, away from my father. I asked her to let me have it for a little while."

"Tell her that I appreciate her sacrifice."

Klaus draws me over to the patio wall and we look down at the blue-grey ocean below. He has his arm around my waist when a door behind us opens.

"You wanted to see us, Papa?"

"Yes," Klaus says, dropping his arm and quietly directing me to stay facing the sea. I turn my head slightly to hear better. "I think your friend owes me an explanation."

"My lord?" I hear Amanthara whisper, perplexed. My shoulders twitch at the sound of her voice. Someone definitely altered my spell.

"You haven't exactly been truthful with me, Miss Amanthara."

"My ... lord?" she all but breathes. I can hear the fear in her voice. A voice she shouldn't possess.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were a mermaid?"

"What?" Matthias exclaims, at the same time Amanthara blurts, "But I'm not!"

Klaus touches my back and I turn around. Amanthara's copper-colored skin pales and she turns to flee, but Matthias catches her by the arm. "You deceived me, Amanthara," I say. "Why?"

Amanthara's terrified expression melts away to reveal a confident mien. Unease curls in my belly as she tosses back her pink hair, no longer the innocent mermaid but a cool, calculated woman. "Would you have given me legs had I simply asked for them?" she retorts.

"No," I reply immediately. "Your father would not allow it."

Amanthara laughs; I don't enjoy its harsh quality. That sound should not come from a mermaid's throat. "Exactly! So I had to trick you."

I look from Matthias to Amanthara and back again. "You have been planning this for a long time," I realize to my horror. Who knows how long Amanthara has been coming to the surface and developing this relationship with the boy? I have been played by this slip of a girl, lead as docile as a lamb to the slaughter. So much for Klaus's belief in my quick mind.

Klaus rubs a hand across his face. "Did you know this, Matthias?"

His son opens his mouth, but Amanthara cuts him off. "I planned everything," she states proudly. "I'm the one who suggested that Matthias go with his grandfather to the last parlay, so Melusine could see him. I'm the one who told him to find a weather witch to make the transformation permanent and restore my voice."

I hate the arrogance in her voice. Reaching up, I pull the hood down and shake out my hair. "Your father demands your return, Amanthara." The sooner, the better.

Her color brightens as her anger rises. "No! It's your fault that he keeps everything on a tight leash. Your fault that the trawlers harass us and destroy our farms. It's all because of you!"

It's my turn to laugh harshly. "If you want someone to blame, look to the boy's grandfather, not me." How like children to see the world in black and white. Time will temper her view; allow shades of grey.

Klaus puts an arm around my waste. "Sina is correct, Amanthara. It's my father's fault, not Sina's."

The mermaid tosses her hair. "I'm not going and you can't make me!"

I roll my eyes. "Grey God preserve me from petulant children," I say out loud, taking a step forward to grab her arm. The sea rolls beneath my skin and the air sings in my ears. I don't like it, but I'll take her back by force if I have to. I'll own up to this mistake, at least.

"NO!"

Amanthara spins out of the way and pulls something from Matthias's belt. There's a flash of steel and I feel a sharp, stabbing pain in my gut. My eyes go wide and I stumble backward, hands curving around my belly.

"Sina!" Klaus shouts, causing several guards to burst through the patio door.

Something warm spills over my hands. I look down and see red blood—my blood—pulsing between my fingers.

"Oh," is all I can say. "Oh."

My feet are numb and I can no longer stand. Klaus's arms wrap around me, his mouth pressed against my ear. I hear him shouting, but for what, I cannot say. All I hear is the blood pounding in my head.

"Bippi ..." I whisper through cooling lips, looking up at a darkening sky.

The world tilts and I see Klaus; why is he so close to my face?

"Stay with me!" he shouts, the words muffled over the roar of the sea.

I'm here, Sina ...

I believe I am on the ground, an unhappy surface that rocks and rolls. Over Klaus's shoulder, through the gathering fog, I see the guards draw their swords, staring in terror at something behind us.

"I'm so tired," I say, turning my head. Perhaps that's what I say, I'm not sure. I may have thought it. Everything is so muzzy.

"Sina! I need you to stay with me!"

"I'm right here," I tell him, confused. Where else would I be?

The ground leaps again and there is more shouting, more pounding of feet. I close my eyes, then open them again to see dozens of guards now standing around us as Klaus rocks me back and forth. Something wet falls onto my face. Is it a tear? Is it mine? I haven't cried in so long; maybe it's Klaus's.

But why would he be crying?

I'll take you home, Sina.

A smile stretches my face as Bippi's voice slides over me, as comforting as a warm blanket. "I'd like that," I tell him. A nice, long rest is all I need, then I can continue. Then Klaus can come home with me and we can be together as we had planned.

Something long and black, massive and muscular, wraps around my body.

"You can't take her!" someone shouts as I am lifted, cradled.

We're going home now, Sina.

"Good," I whisper, looking up to see Bippi's gigantic blue eyes. How is he so big? Was he always this big?

Oh, well, I'll ask him later. I close my eyes and let myself drift away ...