Discriminate? Against mermaids? Or against Harlow in particular? I zeroed in on the leggy girl inspecting the faux woodgrain on the door with a quiver in her lip. What did these people know that I didn’t? How much had I missed while I was recuperating?

The grieving widow lunged at Harlow, fingers curved into ragged talons, but smashed against Shaw’s chest when he stepped in front to shield her. “You heard what my partner said.” He gripped the woman by her shoulders. “This is over, Mrs. Rebec. If you have a problem with the consultants hired by the conclave, then make good on your threat. Take it up with the magistrates.”

“Letitia,” the brown-haired man said. “This won’t bring Jasper back. Come on. Let’s get Mom home. I’ll call the marshal’s office in the morning and lodge an official complaint.”

The old woman wrapped an arm around her daughter, and Letitia allowed her mother to lead her away.

“You okay?” Thierry planted her hands on her hips and grimaced in Harlow’s direction. “We got here as fast as we could.”

“I’ve had worse.” Wincing, she brought her fingers up to probe her jaw. “That woman has a killer right hook.”

“You can press charges,” Shaw offered. “She jumped you in the hotel lobby. That’s assault. The night manager is willing to give a statement that he pulled her off you. We can also get our hands on a recording of his phone call to the marshal’s office as evidence.”

When he shifted to stand beside Thierry, the light moved with him, and I swallowed a gasp. Harlow’s delicate jaw was split and bloody. The widow must have been wearing her engagement ring when she socked her. A bare hand wouldn’t have caused that kind of damage.

“No.” The maybe-mermaid ducked into her room. “I don’t want to hang around. I’ve already stayed longer than I should have.”

“I’ll be right back.” Thierry excused herself and crossed to my room before knocking gently on the door. A satchel weighted down one of her shoulders, and she shoved it behind her. “Anyone home in there?”

I would have heard the smile in her voice even if I wasn’t staring right at it, which made it easier to brush off my knees—and my dignity—and stand. When I opened the door, so much blood rushed into my cheeks I felt lightheaded. “I heard shouting.”

“There was a misunderstanding.” Thierry skimmed my appearance, and her grin widened. Flushed, I yanked on my towel turban and let the damp waves of dark blonde hair fall over my shoulders. I doubted it was much of an improvement, but it made me feel less frazzled by comparison. Her gaze slid past my shoulder to where I had laid a pair of brown slacks and a lavender blouse at the foot of the bed. “It’s settled now.”