“She may be more of a problem than I thought,” Bernard said. He ticked his beefy fingers off one by one. “Enchanting our men and harpooning their loyalty so fast they ain’t got time to question it. One minute, she’s threatening them, and next, she’s saving them like she’s some sort of goddess choosing their fate.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Women are the devil, I swear. Why do you think sirens are females? Sinful seductresses.”

“I agree.” Smitter scratched the scruff of his chin. “I’m not sure this is a good idea anymore. I don’t think we should entrust our—”

I held up my hand, silencing them. “Or she may be everything we’ve dreamed of.”

At the end of the dock, Lou kissed a gold coin and tossed it in the waters. Interesting. It had been years since I’d seen the ancient tribute in practice. Once, all respectable sailors had thanked Poseidon with gold after a safe voyage. Most pirates didn’t believe in the old ways anymore, which some thought angered the seas and soiled their fortunes.

I smiled as she turned and walked from the docks. This woman was more than I’d expected. “She may be the answer to saving us all.”

Chapter eight

Rylander

I pulled the heavy doors open and waved Lou into the narrow throne room. The long, oversized hall served to intimidate those seeking an audience with the king. Arched, stained-glass windows splashed filtered prisms of colored light throughout the room. Flags bearing Cava’s crest—a griffin with a lyre in its beak against a bright sun—hung along the chamber walls. With the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle, the griffin symbolized strength and wisdom. Apollo called upon the beast to transport him between heaven and earth. Griffins were also considered fierce and loyal guards, used to defend stockpiles of gold and other treasures. The origin of my name had its root in the creatures as well. Lander in Greek meant lion, and Rye had been the name of my father’s favorite breed of the beasts. Although I’d never met one myself, my parents’ bedtime stories of Apollo’s creatures left my younger self yearning to one day ride the chariot of the sun from our lands to Mt. Olympus.

To reach the golden thrones at the great hall’s end, Lou and I traversed a red carpet fringed with shimmering gold cords. We waited at the thrones’ feet, staring into the eyes of the lion’s head armrests. The glorified chairs stood on legs curled and carved into an abstract sculpture of a lyre.

The king entered behind us, conversing in low voices with the royal advisor, Edgar.

“King Delphi,” I said, alerting him to our presence.