Watching it all in impotent silence, Knigh bit the inside of his cheek. His hands clenched against the desire to warn Vee, to step between her and Mercia.

Did she not understand who she was dealing with?

Yes, her manner was just about acceptable for a prince of the realm. While rather casual, she wasn’t breaching too many rules of etiquette with the way she addressed him. Her introductions were flawless, in fact.

But Mercia wasn’t just the Prince of Albion. He was so much more dangerous than that. The man was …

The breaths in Knigh’s chest sped. Just seeing Mercia’s face dragged him back to that day.

The air cold. A low mist over the sea. The rushing wall of water Mercia had used to divide their enemy’s ships. The tang of copper and sulphur in the air. Their enemies’ weapons on the deck. Blood on Knigh’s blade. Mercia’s wild laugh.

“Captain,” Mercia said, “it’s such a marvellous coincidence that I should run into you of all people—look who I have with me.”

Knigh shook away the spectres and raised his eyebrows at Mercia. Gods, please not someone else from that day. Another face to send him back. Another set of eyes that had seen what he’d done. Someone else who knew what atrocity he’d been so close to.

A thin smile on his lips, Mercia stepped to one side and indicated a well-dressed young man behind him.

For a moment, all Knigh saw were the diamond shoe buckles, peacock-coloured coat, the emerald oak-leaf cravat pin twinkling. But when he looked past that to the man beneath, his world tilted. It was all he could do to stay upright.

Hair the same colour as his own. Hazel eyes that had looked up at him for the past twenty years watched him now above a broad smile. His brother.

“George?”

“Knigh,” George said, shaking his head as he approached, “what the hells are you doing on a pirate boat?” He laughed and wrapped his arms around Knigh, clapping him on the back.

Heart pounding, Knigh stiffened before returning the embrace. His eyes stayed on Mercia, who watched with that cool, calculating smile.

What the hells was his brother doing on a ship of the line with that man? He wasn’t in uniform, so he hadn’t joined the Royal Navy in Knigh’s absence. No, he’d have been too old to join now, anyway—Knigh had been twelve when he’d begun his studies.

That left only one answer. Knigh’s stomach dropped. George had to be part of Mercia’s entourage. The hangers-on who followed him everywhere into whatever depravities, whatever cruelties he indulged in or encouraged. Mercia’s fae charm could push a man past his own conscience and certainly past the law.