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“Have a care,” Brighton said, the knife point pricking a sharp warning beneath Kaerius’s jaw.

The prince blinked and nodded, and the guard withdrew the weapon slowly, watching his face.

“This is the royal physician, Sir Vincent, and he came at Her Royal Highness’s request. You owe him gratitude, not violence.” Seeing that Kaerius lay motionless, Brighton spared a quick glance for the physician. “How badly are you hurt?”

The older man looked at the blood smearing his hand and said, wincing, “I’ll be all right. I suppose we can assume there has been a history of violence, whether he can speak of it or not.”

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Brighton prompted.

Kaerius eased himself up to a sitting position, moving slowly so as not to startle these humans. He nodded once. His eyes flicked over the man’s wound. It was hardly life-threatening, since Kaerius’s human teeth were so small and dull and he had been half-asleep, but the bruises would no doubt be painful. He stood and gave the man the sign for a gracious apology, fully aware that neither human would understand but knowing it was warranted. He had not intended to harm anyone who did not mean violence to him. Then, feeling magnanimous, he added the sign for gratitude.

“What does that mean?” asked Vincent. “Do you know if he has always been mute?”

Kaerius’s eyes narrowed. There was no reason to speak of him as if he were not standingright there, able to answer with intelligence, if not words. He shook his head, only a little ashamed at the physician’s slight flinch.

Still, he ought not frighten the man. Clearly Vincent was no warrior. Kaerius spread his hands wide in what he imagined was an unthreatening posture.

“Her Royal Highness will see you when you’re well enough to walk unaided, and I see that you are much recovered,” said Brighton.

Vincent took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I’m trying to help you. Do you understand that?”

Kaerius nodded.

“May I feel your pulse? That’s what I was attempting when you woke. It won’t hurt.”

Kaerius nodded again, but he could not help a suppressed shudder when the physician put two fingers against the hollow beneath his jaw. The man’s gaze grew distant as he concentrated. The prince’s eyes flicked around the room and back to the older man. Sir Vincent was not truly a threat, but the feel of fingers on Kaerius’s throat, ofanythingagainst that vulnerability, was enough to make his skin crawl.

With stiff dignity, the prince submitted to an impressively thorough examination, from the rapidly swelling lump on the side of his head to the bruised fingers on the end of his feet. Finally Sir Vincent said, “He’s a bit feverish, but he seems clear-headed enough, now that he’s awake. I think the shock of near-drowning and then nearly freezing to death temporarily weakened him. I imagine he’ll be back to himself in a few days, although whether that will bring his speech back, I cannot say. I don’t think you’ve damaged him too much on the head, though I imagine he has a ferocious headache.”

Kaerius shrugged. The throbbing in his head had settled in, as if it meant to stay for a while, but he’d survived far worse. A headache was certainly preferable to having accidentally killed someone who had intended no harm to him.

“Were you lost off a ship? I am not aware of any recent losses.”

Kaerius shook his head.

The guard said, “Do you know what’s wrong with your voice?”

The prince nodded.Wrongwas a strong word, for he’d always had a particularly lovely voice for singing. But it was gone, and he supposed that could be considered something wrong. A temporary problem.

“Is it something we could help with?” Sir Vincent asked.

The sudden, bright smile that crossed Kaerius’s face startled the two humans, for the Mer prince was dangerously beautiful.He felt an unexpected rush of warmth toward these two men. They had been nothing but kind to him, aside from a justified blow to the head, though he must have seemed strange and perhaps dangerous to them. He gave them the gratitude sign again, fully aware that they would not understand the nuances of it, shaped as it was by his status and privilege, but desiring to be generous. He shook his head.

Brighton’s face softened, his eyes kind. “Her Royal Highness said she would see you this morning. Before you see her, you need to get cleaned up.”

The prince looked down at his shirt, seeing nothing wrong. He’d even managed to figure out the little round things that went in corresponding little holes and had gotten the two sides of the shirt even.

“A bath,” prompted the guard. “Come on.”

Sir Vincent departed down the hallway, and Brighton led Kaerius in the opposite direction to a spacious room with a fireplace and a large basin of water. “It’s already hot. There’s soap and a towel and clean clothes there.” The guard pointed to a wooden bench to one side of the basin. “I’ll be in the hall when you’re done.”

Kaerius strode to the bench, pleased with the smooth strength of his steps. He was already steadier on his feet, and he thought triumphantly that in another few days, he would have gained the respect and admiration he deserved here in the human world.

The small, rectangular lump that Brighton had called “soap” smelled odd. Kaerius knew very little of land plants, and this was a sweet, floral sort of smell. He licked it.

“What did you do that for?” Brighton exclaimed.

Kaerius gagged and coughed, his eyes watering. He held the soap out away from his body as if the horrid taste would attack him.