“We rode through the city in procession not an hour ago, Aramus,” Mars growled, scowling at his friend.

“We did not ride in procession. We did so with some care, and more stealth, for we did not know the leanings of the Bay,” Aramus replied. “We learned quickly but thought it best to carry forward cautiously.”

Mars decided to let that go in order that he could find out what the fuck was going on and not leave his Silence wondering and worrying.

“And who is he?” he demanded of Aramus, referring to the tall, powerfully-built, silver-eyed man at Aramus’s side.

“He is standing right here, and you can direct your questions right to me,” the silver-eyed man said.

“You have her eyes,” Mars clipped to him.

“She has mine,” he retorted.

“You do know who I am,” Mars stated.

“I do, but you don’t know who I am,” he returned.

“You do not understand my meaning,” Mars said slowly. “When I say, you do know who I am, my meaning is, I am her husband.”

The silver-eyed man fell silent, with that, Mars suspected, understanding his meaning.

“You share blood,” Mars bit.

“Yes,” the man grunted.

“And you know she exists,” Mars continued.

“Yes,” the man replied.

Mars felt blood roar in his ears and watched the man’s eyebrows go up when, Mars knew, he caught the flames in Mars’s eyes.

“And you and yours left her to neglect and abuse?” he whispered sinisterly.

The man took a step back as if Mars had delivered a physical blow.

“Neglect and abuse?” he whispered back.

But achingly.

At that, Mars fell silent.

“What’s happening?” True, at his side, demanded to know.

Mars turned to him.

“Johan of the Arbor is not Silence’s father. He cannot sire a child, but desired one, so he sent Vanka out to lie with someone for the purpose of conceiving.” He ignored True’s expression assuming a look of shock before it melted to anger and turned back to the man. “Your father? Uncle?”

“Father,” the man said low.

He turned back to True. “His father is Silence’s sire.”

True instantly looked to the man and demanded furiously, “And why is he not here?”

“He has passed,” the man answered. “And before I endure any more of your ire, I did not know, and he did not know, we had blood on land until I heard reports the new Queen of Firenze had silver eyes.”

“On land?” Frey asked.

The man looked to Aramus.

Aramus nodded with what appeared to be encouragement.

The man looked to Mars.

“I am Jorie. King of the Mer,” he declared.

The air in the room went static.

Mer?

Fucking hell.

Aramus’s voice cut through it as he asked carefully, “Mars, does Silence know she’s a mermaid?”

Her advanced hearing.

Her shadow.

Were these Mer traits?

He did not ask that.

He answered tersely, “No.”