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The chaplain paled. “The plague?”

“No, just a cold.”

Another lie. One he wished was true.

Chapter Twenty-Six

MER

The freefall wasfast and the impact hard.

Mer stumbled backward, her spine hitting the rail as she tumbled.

She clutched at the balister, her nails scraping against the stone.

Her vision dipped in and out at the height. Mer threw herself away from the handrail, her whole body shaking.

That had been terrifying.

An incredulous laugh escaped her. For the first time since the duke’s attack, she felt something other than anger and fear.

She edged to the glass door, opened it, and stepped inside, praying she wasn’t going to scare some unsuspecting victim. She froze as an old Methian woman stared back at her, blinking slowly.

Mer wrung some of the water from her linen trousers. The old woman didn’t scream or demand who she was but continued to stare at her with pale silver eyes. Eyes that were eerily familiar.

She released her clothing and gave a little wave. She smiled for good measure. “Hello.” Might as well be friendly.

“Have you come to steal from me?” the old woman asked, her voice raspy and low, her tawny forehead creased with age and suspicion.

“No,” Mer replied.

“And yet you came through the window like a thief.”

“Well, technically, I came through your door. Don’t all riders visit through the balconies?”

The old woman snorted. “You came from the mountainside in the rain. I smell nofiilee.”

“I like climbing in the rain,” Mer offered. A lie. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.”

The woman tsked, pushing a heavy lock of wiry white hair from her grizzled face. “Don’t run off so fast. Come here so I can look at you properly.”

A demand that brooked no argument, and for some reason, she listened.

Mer sighed and shuffled to stand in front of the old woman, feeling time slip away from her. She flinched when the crone, quick as lightning, grabbed her hand and hauled her close so she was bent over almost nose to nose with the old woman.

She gaped at the woman and then shut her mouth when gnarled fingers traced over Mer’s face, exploring.

The old woman was blind.

“I knew you were different,” the old woman whispered, brushing her fingers lightly over the scales on Mer’s shoulders. “I could smell the sea on you.”

Mer didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t been in the ocean since the day they left Laos. “Thank you?”

The woman sighed and released Mer, leaning back in her chair and tugging her blanket up further on her lap. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Finally?”

“I’ve always wanted to meet a Sirenidae in person, and now I have.” Her gaze was unfocused, and she pursed her lips. “So, what is the queen doing here? Skulking about my rooms?”