Mercia’s smile. That glint in his eyes. Wild Hunt take him, George was no coincidence. Mercia had chosen him precisely because they were brothers.

Knigh’s heart twisted like it was going to burst, but he controlled his face and muscles. He must maintain a façade of indifference. If Mercia knew his friendship with George had him ruffled, he’d only dig his claws in deeper.

Smiling, Knigh patted his brother on the back and pulled away. There had to be some way he could catch him alone and warn him, tell him to put in at the next port and get home on the quickest ship he could find.

“Oh, Knigh”—George’s eyes shone—“I’ve so much to tell you—such adventures we’ve had.” He looked at Mercia with wide eyes, an unguarded smile.

It was a look Knigh recognised only too well. Adoration. Gods, how long had Mercia been working on him?

Even FitzRoy stared at him, a ghost of that look in his eye. Fae charm was heady magic on its own, and men like FitzRoy were drawn to gold and riches like moths to bonfires.

“What a touching reunion.” Mercia’s eyes glittered as he watched them, head cocked. He snapped his fingers. “And—oh, yes! It can continue this evening. You’ll accompany us to a ball at Cubanakan.”

“Oh yes, Knigh, say you can come!” George clapped, smile even brighter.

As if he had a choice. Such an invitation from the Duke of Mercia was not a request.

“Of course he’ll come,” Mercia said with a decisive nod. “Mr FitzRoy, the charming Lady Vice, you too. We were on our way there when we spotted your sails. We mustn’t tarry any longer, in fact. Follow closely, and we’ll see you safely into port—no more misunderstandings.”

FitzRoy blinked as if coming to himself, then nodded and waved the crew to their tasks to get The Morrigan ready to set sail south-west.

Mercia leant close to Knigh, smile not reaching his eyes. “You can give me your report then—I’m most curious to hear how you ended up on a pirate ship with her.”

Then the Admiral of the Fleet hadn’t judged Mercia’s knowledge of Knigh’s mission necessary. That would put the Duke in an excellent mood.

Knigh inclined his head. “Of course, Your Highness.”

“Very good, Captain.” With a brisk nod, Mercia took his leave.

A knot in his belly, Knigh watched the Duke and his entourage return to their longboat, lower into the water, and row back to HMS Sovereign.

Poor Etiquette

Chandeliers glittered, couples danced, and Knigh’s blood simmered. He nodded and smiled stiffly, picking his way through the crowd, Vee and FitzRoy close behind.