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I was already shaking my head, deep in thought. “Won’t work. Theia’s curse prevents him from entering the sea. I’ve seen him eat plenty of salt. I’ve seen him reach into fishermen’s buckets. Theia doesn’t care if hetouchesseawater. She ensured he couldn’t cross paths with Sidra.”

Pheolix’s knife withdrew from his pocket. He played with it absently, flipping it toward his wrist and back through his fingers. “Sounds like you just need to lure him to water.”

I tapped my lower lip with my finger, eyes cast out over the Juile Sea. “I need to figure out what Thaan needs from me during the masquerade. And I need to talk to Vouri.”

Deimos opened Thaan’s door at my knock. He stood back, expressionless, studying me. The pale scar across his cheek seemed paler than the last time I’d seen him, and shadows hung under his eyes like dark half-moons.

Pheolix followed me in without a word. All of our previous meetings had been in the palace offices, and I wondered if he’d ever been in Thaan’s private quarters before. If it was his first time, he didn’t act as though it were unfamiliar.

Thaan sat at his small desk. He flicked his fountain pen away as I darkened his door, leaning back in his chair and pressing his fingertips together. His faux spectacles sat folded in the corner, but whatever task he’d accomplished in the offices earlier, he hadn’t shifted back to his tall and menacing form. He was Cain.

The thought seemed to occur to him as well. His limbs lengthened, jaw sharpened, muscles broadening and strengthening. The only things that didn’t change were his ice-blue eyes. “You’re here a day early.”

“Cebrinne will arrive tomorrow,” I said, sensing Pheolix slide behind me to lean against the wall. “I wanted details on my assignment.”

“Has shecordaed?”

Anger simmered to life, tightening my chest. “Between the three of us, we’ve gathered considerable information about Aegir and his colony. He trusts us. We could lead him here without binding Ceba to him for life.”

“So, she has not.” His eyes flashed.

I exhaled, the muscles in my neck flexing. “She’s close.”

Thaan stood, folding his hands behind his back. He glanced at Pheolix before gazing at the shelves of books that canvased his wall. “I knew Aegir would show more interest in her than you. Cebrinne’s talents as a Naiad were never as…delayedas yours are. But I’d thought you’d guide her. You know how to work a man.” He looked at me from over his shoulder, waiting for my response.

Heat slithered along the back of my neck. The soft click of fingers playing with a blade met my ears, and I resisted the urge to steal a glance at the hooded Naiad behind me.

“What do you want from Emilius?”

“The Queen refuses to speak to him. Theia knows why. I imagine between the parade of women in his bed and the liquor swimming in his veins at all hours, she has her reasons. They’ve been communicating through written notes passed back and forth by their servants at mealtimes.” Hereached through his shelf for a letter written in a feminine scrawl, dropping it on his desk.

My mouth suddenly tasted sour. “What do you need from me?”

“In short, I need to know if the Queen has drained herself of usefulness. If their marriage is purely exposition, if she’s lost all influence over him, then it might be time to consider other options. According to the counsel, she visited his chamber only twice last year, which puts into question the legitimacy of her children. And there’s something off with her firstborn. He smells too strongly of salt.”

“Maybe he’s Naiad,” I mused, though I knew that wasn’t the case. Naiads don’t smell of salt unless they’ve just swum in the sea. It was more likely a hidden affliction. I made a mental note to research it later. “Why haven’t you justincantedthe King to ask if he hates his wife?”

Thaan grimaced, gazing down at the Queen’s handwriting as though it had insulted him. “I could. I’d rather not. I’ve overstretched my hand lately. Emilius grows suspicious and distant each time he loses his memories, as most humans do. But he’s deep in his cups these days. Wine will make anyone paranoid, and I’m trying to incite tension from Rivea. If I have to chooseincantmentover the status of a royal marriage orincantmentto aid in a war, I’d rather the latter.”

My darling husband, light of my life and soul,the letter began. If the Queen refused to speak to Emilius, I wondered if the words were a mockery. “You want me to locate the rest of her letters in his rooms?”

Thaan smiled, though the act was more of a tightening around the corners of his mouth and eyes. “Yes. Withoutincantinghim. If you mustincanthim, ensure he’s fully drunk first, so he believes the alcohol is to blame when he wakes.”

“Even if that makes him more paranoid?”

Thaan gave a stern nod. “It’s the lesser of two evils. Obviously don’tcordaewith him. Not until we know the Queen is ineffective.”

I raised my head at that. The sour taste in my mouth turned fetid. “Is that all?”

“For now.” He turned back to his shelves. “If you see your sister before tomorrow evening, tell her I’m waiting for her report. You may go.”

31

Cebrinne

The City of Towers buzzed with the ardent fervor of a horde of fruit flies drunk from a vat of wine-soaked fruit. Even the clouds had grown gluttonously fat and dark. Rain meant an early end to the evening, and I loved the scent of it.

A pig show, Pheolix had called it. The florists and decorators had done their best to tax the wrought iron frames of the walls with frivolous blooms and starry glass throughout the palace. It was pretty enough to make me puke.