Dirt, bruises, and blood caked our extremities. Rylander’s vest and shirt couldn’t be sutured. I toted my cincher under one arm, hoping it appeared as if I’d simply grown weary of its crushing hold on my ribcage. I couldn’t hide the gash on top of my hand, though, nor the dirt on my cheeks from a drop and roll I’d performed to dodge a blade. I had no access to a mirror, but I feared by the puffy feeling of my lips that they bore the marks of Rylander’s nips and pulls.

“We had a pleasant conversation with four of Lou’s friends,” Rylander said through gritted teeth. He hadn’t looked at me the whole journey back to the palace. But the tension riding his shoulders spoke volumes.

“Friends, ay?” The king raised his greying brow. “Captain Lou, might I suggest selecting better acquaintances?” His peppered whiskers twitched.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I grumbled. At least the battle provided an alternate reason for our lack of clothing.

The king shifted the papers on his desk. “As you know—”

“I hadn’t the chance to tell them,” Smitter said, suddenly between us.

I jumped. “Where did you come from?” I scanned the room, expecting a nearby entrance disguised in the stacks but finding nothing. I hadn’t even known he was in the castle.

Smitter bowed his head. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

I rubbed my temples. I might drown myself tonight in my oversized bathtub. Between Rylander’s song at the tavern, my unexplained surrender during the fight, and now Smitter popping up out of nowhere—not to forget the inappropriate misdoings with my arch enemy—I was starting to question my sanity.

The king glared at Smitter. “As I was saying, we’ve heard word from Sottom.” He lifted the correspondence.

Rylander sat straighter, and his sour puss disappeared. Instead, curiosity sat in the creases of his eyes and pursed lips. “And?”

The king hung his head. “The crew never returned.” He dropped the parchment paper and rubbed the arc of his nose. “They are all dead.”

“How do you know for sure?” Rylander asked, squinting at the inked words over the desk.

The king shared a look with Smitter, who nodded. “I had a visit from Poseidon.”

My barked laugh echoed off the high ceiling, but no one else joined in the mirth. They all stared back, severe as the grave. I snorted, but my grin wavered as I eyed the impassive king, his fingers tented on his desk. “You converse with the god of the sea?” Though I tried to laden the question with skeptic amusement, genuine curiosity tilted my voice up an octave. There were many stories of the gods appearing to man, but I had never met someone in the flesh who could genuinely claim such an honor.

Rylander ignored me and asked simply, “What did he say?”