Tharion swished his tail, playfully splashing Bryce’s legs with water. “I won’t bet on your Sailing, Legs. I promise.” He flicked some water toward Hunt. “And we already know your boat is going to tip right the fuck over before it’s even left the shore.”

“Funny.”

Behind them, an otter in a reflective yellow vest loped past, a sealed wax message tube held in its fanged mouth. It barely glanced their way before leaping into the river and vanishing. Bryce bit her lip, a high-pitched squeal cracking from her.

The fearless, fuzzy messengers were hard to resist, even for Hunt. While true animals and not shifters, they possessed an uncanny level of intelligence, thanks to the old magic in their veins. They’d found their place in the city by relaying tech-free communication between those who lived in the three realms that made up Crescent City: the mer in the river, the Reapers in the Bone Quarter, and the residents of Lunathion proper.

Tharion laughed at the naked delight on Bryce’s face. “Do you think the Reapers fall to pieces over them, too?”

“I bet even the Under-King himself squeals when he sees them,” Bryce said. “They were part of why I wanted to move here in the first place.”

Hunt lifted a brow. “Really?”

“I saw them when I was a kid and thought they were the most magical thing I’d ever seen.” She beamed. “I still do.”

“Considering your line of work, that’s saying something.”

Tharion angled his head at them. “What manner of work is that?”

“Antiquities,” Bryce said. “If you ever find anything interesting in the depths, let me know.”

“I’ll send an otter right to you.”

Hunt got to his feet, offering a hand to help Bryce rise. “Keep us posted.”

Tharion gave him an irreverent salute. “I’ll see you when I see you,” he said, gills flaring, and dove beneath the surface. They watched him swim out toward the deep heart of the river, following the same path as the otter, then plunge down, down—to those distant, twinkling lights.

“He’s a charmer,” Bryce murmured as Hunt hauled her to her feet, his other hand coming to her elbow.

Hunt’s hand lingered, the heat of it searing her even through the leather of the jacket. “Just wait until you see him in his human form. He causes riots.”

She laughed. “How’d you even meet him?”

“We had a string of mer murders last year.” Her eyes darkened in recognition. It’d been all over the news. “Tharion’s little sister was one of the victims. It was high-profile enough that Micah assigned me to help out. Tharion and I worked on the case together for the few weeks it lasted.”

Micah had traded him three whole debts for it.