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“A series of people I’ve never met.” Sehild absentmindedly traced her fingertip around the rim of her glass, making it sing. “Asking about a map.”

“Yvette stole a map from Artus, remember?” whispered Riella, leaning close to her friend. “You didn’t tell any of these people, did you? Who were they, anyway? Pirates? A sorcerer?”

“Of course I didn’t tell anyone.” Sehild chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Give me some credit, please. They weren’t pirates or sorcerers, that I could tell. Just normal-looking people. I don’t know.” She downed the last few drops of her drink, giving a little shiver of pleasure. “But I figured it was important, for them to keep trying, so I played dumb. I only talked about the map to Yvette, when she came in a couple of days ago.”

“Oh, well, I suppose that’s alright.” Riella frowned. “But you said she moved to the countryside at once.”

“She did. She came back for a patient.” Sehild tilted her head, toying with her long red braid. “The patient was with her, actually. An elf, quite near death, sad to say.”

The siren swayed on the spot, suddenly dizzy. Polinth. Word had obviously spread about the map, and he’d used Glamour spells on Sehild to get the information out of her. Finally, when he’d impersonated Yvette, he’d succeeded.

“Did you mention to her that I took the map?” asked Riella, her heart thudding.

“Well, I suppose.” She arched her brow. “What’s wrong with that? Yvette already knew.”

Riella felt sick. She and Jarin came to Klatos to ambush him, but what if they’d walked into a trap? He already had her Voice. Now he knew she’d read the map, too. He would surely be hunting her.

At least Seraphine had been spotted alive. Riella could still save her. She ground her teeth, a familiar burst of siren rage and determination fortifying her.

Perhaps this was good. She wouldn’t need to waste precious time trying to find Polinth, if he was indeed hunting her. Let him come. She wanted to face him, and she would.

But what became of Yvette? To assume her form, Polinth must’ve met her. Perhaps Madame Quaan survived, and helped him. What a vile thought.

Head pounding with stress, Riella allowed Sehild to lead her to the table where Olivier sat.

“Do you feel the potion working?” asked Sehild cheerfully.

“I don’t believe so,” replied Riella, sinking into the seat.

She felt the opposite of fortunate. And the room suddenly seemed too small, and strangely airless. Her thoughts would not slow down.

Sehild trailed her fingertips across the back of Olivier’s hand while they gazed drunkenly at each other. “I’m feeling it,” she said with an impish grin.

“I need a washroom,” said Riella abruptly, rubbing her temples.

More specifically, she needed water. Cool, peaceful, beautiful water. All she wanted to do was dive headfirst into the ocean, away from her ever-mounting problems. But she could not.

At least not until her death, she thought dolefully. Ferrante said she’d be washed away with the tide. In a bleak way, her wish to disappear into the ocean would be granted.

“I’ll come with you, if you like?” asked Sehild, starting to stand.

Riella stopped her, wanting to be alone. “No, stay here.”

“Oh. Alright. I’ll check on you soon, though. Your pirate friend did charge me with taking care of you.”

“I can take care of myself. But thank you.”

“Of course you can,” said Sehild with a small smile. “But that doesn’t stop people from caring about you.” She pointed at a door leading to a hallway. “Right down there, and turn left. You can’t miss it.”

Riella followed her directions, running her fingers along the wallpaper as she walked down the hallway. The potion had been a mistake. Her stomach churned and rocked, like the sea during a monsoon.

It was strange to think that land-walkers cared about her. Would they mourn her death? Would Jarin? He said he’d kill for her. She’d kill for him, too. But then, violence was in their natures.

He also said he’d die for her. Were they just pretty words, knowing he’d never be put to the test, or did he really mean it? Did he care for her as she cared for him?

Riella was so distracted that she didn’t register the man in the shadowy hallway until she bumped into him.

Four men flanked him, wearing matching brown uniforms with swords on their hips.