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“What?” asked Riella.

“My mother knew him when she was young.” Jarin shrugged. “She never told me how exactly, but her father was a baron, so she probably met him at some royal event.”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Riella, nodding. “Your mother’s from Morktland. Sirens don’t swim that far north, because the waters are freezing.”

“Wise. Only monsters lurk in those parts.”

When they reached the front of the line, Riella was sweating. A scarf was tied around her head, which caused her hairline to itch in the midday heat. Jarin’s clothes covered his body entirely, to conceal his Dark Tide Clan tattoos. Neither of them carried weapons.

Their story, should they be asked, was that they were visiting from a small village in the northern mountains, and would stay with Jarin’s relatives in Klatos during the celebrations. They’d arrived on foot instead of horseback, which was slower but added credibility to their story of being humble village folk.

The city gate was open barely wide enough for a cart to fit through, and was manned by armed guards. Two of them stopped and questioned every person who entered, and another pair conducted searches of any carriages or carts.

Riella noted with relief that very few people were turned away. One exception was a man known to the royal guards for selling a chewing leaf that induced hallucinations. Another was a woman who tried to bring a live snake into the city, slung around her neck like a scarf. She appeared genuinely confused by the panicked refusal of the guards, and she chose to stay outside the city walls rather than surrender or release the animal.

Finally, it was Riella and Jarin’s turn.

“Where’re you staying?” asked the guard as he looked Jarin up and down. He’d given Riella a disinterested glance.

“With my uncle,” replied Jarin with a distinct note of impatience.

Riella bit back a smirk. As a pirate, he wasn’t used to being questioned and operating through proper channels. He’d probably wanted to ditch the line and scale the wall, consequences be damned, even more than she had.

From inside, another guard muttered to a colleague while looking at Jarin. Then he nodded decisively and hurried away, out of sight behind the wall. Riella suppressed a huff, wishing the guards would wave them through and be done with it.

Her impatience morphed into apprehension when the guard returned moments later with a colleague who was clearly recovering from an injury. He wore a thick bandage over part of his face, covering one eye, and listened intently to whatever the other guard was uttering in his ear.

Jarin had watched this exchange, too. Riella sensed his energy shift, his shoulders stiffening fractionally.

“He was on the royal ship I scuttled,” breathed Jarin at Riella, hardly moving his lips.

The injured guard looked up, finding Jarin with his one good eye and squinting. Then his face transformed in recognition, his eyebrow flying up. Riella groaned inwardly. She and the pirate were about to run or fight. Perhaps both.

Sure enough, Jarin reached down and grasped her wrist in preparation for action.

Should they steal a horse from a traveler? Weapons from the guards? Plenty of people around them carried daggers.

But they couldn’t fight an entire platoon and hope to get away. It was a risk they couldn’t take—far more was in jeopardy than their own freedom. Polinth and Artus were on the loose, and poor Seraphine had no one.

A bang erupted directly overhead.

Riella ducked by instinct, looking around for the source of the attack. More ear-splitting bangs filled the air, accompanied by streaks of colorful light. To her surprise, no one seemed concerned by the assault. The children in the line clapped and cheered.

“Firelights!” one squealed.

The metallic scent of smoke from the so-called firelights singed Riella’s nostrils. She craned her neck and spotted Berolt’s distinctive red hair and beard. The firelights came from his direction, and she suspected he meant to provide a diversion.

Jarin ran at the closest guard, hitting him square in the throat, which Riella took as her cue.

The one-eyed guard tried to grab Riella as she dashed past, but he misjudged the distance and nearly fell over. Other guards drew their weapons as a fresh wave of firelights soared overhead and exploded, filling the air with bright lights and blinding clouds of smoke.

Riella sprinted, ramming red and blue coats indiscriminately, making the guards bellow with surprise and pain. They hadn’t expected her preternatural strength and had focused mainly on Jarin. Their misjudgment made it easy for her to carve a line through their defenses.

She quickly became separated from Jarin, because the guards had drawn their swords on him and attempted to close in. Once she’d run far enough beyond the gate for the smoke to clear, she cast around for him. If they caught him, he’d be imprisoned and hanged for the attack on the ship. And when they figured out they couldn’t hang him, they’d surely do something far more gruesome.

He charged out the smoke unharmed. As he ducked around a flailing red and blue coat, he stole the guard’s sword with a deft sleight of hand. From up on the wall, guards sounded the alarm, blowing horns and shouting for reinforcements.

“Follow me!” yelled Jarin, running up the cobblestone street with a small army of royal guards in pursuit.