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“I’ll find Odeya and Sehild,” said Yvette when she’d gathered herself, turning back to Riella. “We’ll delay Madame Quaan and Gerret for as long as possible.” She tugged a lace shawl from around her shoulders and pressed it into Riella’s hands. “I’d cover my hair, if I were you. Madame Quaan described you to the guards.”

“Thank you.” Riella put the shawl over her head and tied it under her chin. “Jarin said something similar about my hair.”

Yvette had been about to leave, but halted at this information, arching her brow. “Who’s Jarin?”

“Oh.” The siren opened the door wider to reveal the pirate adjusting his belt. “I’m working with him. Don’t ask why.”

Yvette snickered. “I don’t need you to tell me why. Just look at him. Go ahead, then. And good luck.”

The dark-haired woman gave an ironic salute, then wove down the hallway through the melee toward the Count’s room.

Riella and Jarin emerged and hastened in the opposite direction. He shoved his way through the royal guards, who took one look at him and turned their gazes, allowing him and Riella to reach the stairs quickly and without incident.

The first real obstacle lay at the bottom of the stairs, where the door was locked with three deadbolts. Riella could break them easily enough, but smashing the metal from the doorframe would create a tremendous noise.

The guards may’ve overlooked Jarin when they believed he was a customer at this establishment, but if he started actively robbing the place, they’d have to intervene.

“I need you to cause a diversion up in the hallway,” she said to him. “Something loud.”

She had expected him to be confused, or argue, or ask how. But he nodded without saying a word and ascended the stairs, as if he did this all the time. Which, she reflected, he probably did.

Moments later, a crash came from the hallway, followed by cursing and screams, then more crashing. Riella couldn’t see the mayhem from the bottom of the stairs, but she felt sure it was Jarin’s doing, and took it as her cue.

She drove her fist into the biggest of the metal locks. The door cracked, along with most of the frame, but the locks held. The hidden mechanisms were sturdier than she’d thought. Undeterred, she punched it again, making it loosen further. If Madame Quaan took such great lengths to secure her office, there was sure to be something of value inside.

The noise upstairs began subsiding. Jarin would only be able to cause so much chaos without risking arrest. There was no time to waste. Her next strike would need to break the door down.

A wild idea occurred to her as she drew her fist back again. What if she kicked the door instead? Would that work better?

Dubious, she braced herself by pressing her hands against either side of the narrow entryway. After awkwardly drawing back one leg, she drove the sole of her foot into the main lock. The entire door flew into the study, the locks demolishing most of the frame as well, leaving behind a giant hole.

Laughing in delight, and with a newfound respect for her legs, she stepped into the study. Jarin joined her moments later, nodding in admiration at the damage she’d caused.

“The guards have the Count,” he said. “He’s trying to bribe them, but he’s got no gold on him. Very sad.”

“Did you see Madame Quaan and Gerret?”

“She’s trying to argue the Count’s case, but I don’t think it’s doing much good. I guess the Countess pays better.”

Riella nodded, surveying the study. “We don’t have much time, then.”

The room was small, stuffy, and almost entirely decorated with gray. Gray tiled floor, gray wallpaper, and a wide marble desk with a neat stack of parchment on top. There was nothing personal about the study—no art or trinkets or even books. Nothing that suggested any kind of heart.

The stronghold was built into the wall behind the desk. Its door was round and made of steel, like Yvette said, with two arms attached to the front, running in opposite directions. There was no sign of magic, but enchantments were not often visible to the naked eye.

Riella went to grab the metal arms.

“Don’t!” Jarin strode to her. “You don’t know what’ll happen.”

The siren sighed, stopping just short of grasping them. “Then what do you suggest? We’re getting into this stronghold. I made promises.”

He tried to nudge her out of the way. “Let me do it.”

She shoved him back, because his proximity annoyed her, on multiple fronts. First, he was in her way. Second, he was trying to stop her from doing as she pleased. And third, she caught his scent whenever he got close, and that scent made her stomach do backward somersaults.

“Why?” she demanded. “The magic won’t care which one of us does it.”

“I’m trying to be chivalrous.” The pirate sighed, shaking his head. “You are maddening.”