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“I think I put everyone to sleep,” I said. “Don’t ask me how, there isn’t time. Look.”

With a slight nudge to his shoulder, I spun him around to face the shore. Cuyler’s eyes widened. “Dammit. Are those sea folk?”

“Yes. From the looks of it, a great many of them.” We were likely going to die trying to defend this miserly town and those wonderful, lust-filled royals I wished I could see once more. But as I told my Whisper—I would choose to face that fate on my own.

“If this is that battle creature, kill me should he take me, Cuyler. Don’t let him use me against my royals,” I shouted over the wind.

“Stop talking about it, Cal,” he snapped back. “We fight until we can’t. Understand?”

I accepted a short blade off a sheath from his back. He took a broadsword from his waist.

“One last comment you won’t like,” I said. Cuyler groaned in frustration. I tried to keep my voice steady and went on. “I’m glad I won’t go to the Otherworld alone.”

His icy pale eyes locked on mine. Cuyler’s brow furrowed, but he gave me a soft smile. “Fight to your final breath, Cal.”

“Fight to the end,” I muttered. A saying offered by my Shadow King often, but it meant more. Oddly enough, it felt like a notion burrowed deep in my bones.

Fight to the end of this tale.

I shuddered. “Whisper?”

No one but dazed people wandered the Row. A few dockers and tavern workers stared at the approaching battle with a touch of longing or desperation. They did not know how to fight. No mistake, everyone knew this was the day our wretched little kingdom would fall.

No sign of Silas.

I scanned the streets, caught sight of Olaf, and waved my sword. “Get people to shelter! Hide as best you can and—”

“That’s enough chatter,” Olaf shouted back. “We stand here as we always have, awaiting the call.”

What the hells? “You old fool, they will not attack with warm embraces. At the least, grab a damn knife.”

“Is that your command?”

“To grab a knife?” I spun around. “Do as you please, you fool. I suggest sharp things.”

Do the same, Little Rose.

“Silas?” I muttered.

“Who is Silas?” Cuyler followed my gaze, tracking buildings. “Calista? Who is Silas?”

I didn’t answer, simply searched the windows, the alcoves, and alleyways for his form. I’d left him behind his gates, but there was a fierce rush of relief to think he might’ve followed. Odd when I ought to be angry at the sod for trying to trap me in that battered palace.

“Silas, show yourself.”

Cuyler glanced side to side. “I’m truly going to need you to fill me in on who you’re talking to, Cal, but after we face this. Looks to be smaller vessels.”

“Likely sending the grunts first,” I said. Made sense. Davorin was a battle lord. He knew his strategy. He wouldn’t ride with a first wave. He’d torment and destroy and weaken, then he would come and devour what was left.

“Watchers!” Cuyler’s commanding voice drew me back to the shore. “Focus on the seas, boys. Guard this land with your blood if asked.”

From the surf, frightening faces emerged. These weren’t the same sort of sea folk who’d sailed next to the brutal king. These creatures were made of rotting sinews and veiny eyes that looked ready to pop free of their skulls. Cheeks were sunken. Threads of flesh opened on the sides, revealing yellowed teeth.

They looked half-dead, but no matter, each was strong enough to raise a blade and sing in voices like cream and sweets. A sound I might give my whole heart to hear again and again.

They slithered from the water. The longer they sang, the more beautiful they became. They were perhaps the loveliest creatures I’d ever had the pleasure of viewing.

Until hands clapped over my ears and sound muffled.