Dariel swept his hand up, bringing with it the dagger. He slammed the blade in the soft center of the guard’s neck. The man’s face registered shock. His arms hung limp, and this may have fed his terror. His eyes cast about as if demanding that his body do things that it refused.

The prince said, “My name is Dariel Akaran, if you must know.” He yanked the blade to the side, and pushed the guard’s body over, so that the spray of crimson jetted away from him. Moving with the body’s momentum, he kicked the guard from the pier. As the body splashed into the water, Dariel cast his eyes over the harbor, the deck of the nearest ship, portholes in its side, and the street leading away from the water. Nothing. No one seemed to have noticed. Not yet, at least.

He spun and said, “Last of the barrels in, lads, and then let’s go!”

The others, Skylene included, stared at him. Birké’s jaw dropped, exposing his canine teeth. Tam was so wide-eyed it looked like he feared for his own life. Even Tunnel looked uneasy.

“What?” Dariel asked, leaping back on the boat. “You think this could be bloodless? Gape at me later. Now let’s keep moving or there’ll be a lot more blood in the water. Quickly now, quickly.”

The last barrels went on the deck. The ropes were untied. Dariel steered the boat away from the pier and turned it toward the open water. This was the part he had feared most. To be so close to success but needing moment after moment after moment in clear view of anyone watching. Work on the docks might not draw much attention, but a ship outbound in the middle of the night was a different matter. Dariel felt a hundred eyes drilling into the back of his head. He fought the urge to turn around as much as he held back from surging forward at full speed.

Steady, he told himself. Just steady forward. Off to make a delivery, that’s all. Nothing suspicious here.

Right there before him, bobbing for anyone to see, floated the loose barrel. He wanted to ram the thing and fly, but if anybody saw him sail by it without retrieving it … He angled the boat toward it, pulled up until it bumped the side, and then instructed the crew to pull it aboard. Seconds passed as they grasped for it, but it slipped out of reach.

Skylene appeared beside him, looking back where he would not. “The body is in plain sight now,” she whispered.

For the first time that night, sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down over his temples. He had to wipe it from the corners of his eyes. Still he did not turn around. He slid the boat toward the barrel, gently. Tam appeared with a boat hook. With it, they got the barrel secured against the side at the stern. Finally, they hauled it up.