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At the mention of coin, the siren perked up. “I need gold. I need to get to the Black Cliffs.”

“We all need gold, darling. And to get far away from here.” She put her slender hand on her prominent bust. “I’m Sehild. This is Odeya.” The golden-blonde woman smiled and nodded. “And this is Yvette.”

Sehild gestured to a tall, willowy woman with a mass of dark curls.

“I’m Riella,” she replied. “But why did the captain bring me here?”

The women exchanged glances, their smiles fading.

“How long have you had legs?” asked Odeya in a gentle voice.

“Since yesterday.”

Odeya winced and leaned back in her chair, picking at her varnished nails. The women paused and exchanged glances again, as if none of them wanted to be the one to speak.

“We are here for men to buy sex,” said Yvette, apparently deciding it would be her to break the awkward silence. “Madame Quaan is our boss. Overlord, more like it. I believe the captain is in the back right now, negotiating his fee for bringing you here.”

Riella’s eyes narrowed, her suspicions confirmed. “He’s selling me?”

Slavers often traversed the seas, and she knew this was the fate of many of the female captives. Never did she imagine she’d be among their number. She should’ve slaughtered Artus when she first laid eyes on him.

Jarin had been right about the captain—Artus deserved death.

“Yes, darling,” said Sehild, in a far more soothing tone than Yvette’s blunt declaration. “It could be worse, though. This is one of the better establishments in Klatos. We receive wealthy clientele, including men of the Court. Madame Quaan runs the place with an iron fist, but as long as you don’t get on her bad side, you’ll not see the end of her cane.”

“Why don’t you overthrow her?” asked Riella. “It sounds like she has plenty of gold for the taking. Slavers always do.”

“She has Gerret,” explained Yvette. “And friends in high places.”

“Gerret? The man in the black robe?”

Yvette nodded. “He’s vicious.”

“I see.”

Sirens killed slavers as a matter of principle. But when she and her friends intercepted slave ships, the captors on board were always male. Could she kill a woman, even if that woman was a slaver? She had no frame of reference for such a dilemma.

Life on land became more complicated by the minute, and she’d only been part of their mad world for less than a day.

Voices carried from the hallway, including a familiar male baritone. Artus was returning and she needed to decide how to proceed. It was best if he believed the transaction had gone seamlessly, to get rid of him.

Then, she’d find a way to deal with Madame Quaan and her black-robed man-servant. Jarin could deal with Artus. Helping these women was more important than a feud between pirates.

“Where does she keep her coin?” she hissed at Sehild, before the captain returned.

Sehild chewed her lip, concern darkening her pretty features. “In her study, downstairs at the end of the hallway. But it’s protected by steel and magic, and all the exits from the building are locked.”

Fletch and Artus walked back into the bar. This time, a tall and sinewy woman with severe features accompanied them. Her steel-gray hair was pulled into a tight bun and her black dress covered her entire body. On her hands, she wore black gloves.

At once, her eagle-like gaze focused on Riella. After inspecting the siren, she turned to Artus. When she addressed him, she did not bother lowering her voice.

“All seems fine. As a bonus, I would like to offer you some entertainment before you leave. What say you?”

A cretinous smile spread across the captain’s face. “Wouldn’t say no, Madame. We’ve the time.”

Madame Quaan clapped her hands once. “Yvette. Sehild.”

As obediently as puppets on strings, the women stood. They smoothed their voluminous skirts and went to Artus and Fletch. Without a backward glance, they led the two men into the shadowy depths of the hallway.