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Threydan cranes his neck to the side as he observes my crew in their various forms of restraint. “Come with me, Sorinda. I wish for us to speak in private. Let me take you to my home.”

“Like hell she will,” Kearan says from somewhere buried among the undead.

Threydan steps in his direction, looking for the one who spoke.

Fool is going to get himself killed. I say, “If I come with you, you will leave them unharmed. That is the deal, right?”

The King of the Undersea turns back to face me. “That is the deal.”

“How can I trust you?”

“You cannot afford otherwise, my love.”

My nostrils flare at those words, but even I can see when I’ve been outmaneuvered.

“How did you find me?” I ask.

“I followed you.”

“Impossible. No one is able to tail me without my notice.”

“Perhaps that is true among the living.”

I realize all too quickly what happened. Iwasfollowed. By one of the undead. A body that doesn’t need to breathe or move naturally. Something I never would have thought to keep a lookout for.

So hecan’tsense me, then. That’s fortunate at least.

“Come now, Sorinda. I saved you from those people who wanted you dead. All these”—he gestures to the undead bodies holding my crew hostage—“were made in your honor.”

“They only wanted me dead because of what you made me.”

“That’s not entirely true. You woke me. They wanted you dead for that, too.”

I want to scream that it’s not my fault, but perhaps it is. Death has always followed me. I have always been its cause. From the time I was five years old. It is my calling and my curse.

Literally, it would seem.

I find myself with the abhorrent desire to cry.

I crack my neck to either side. “Have your dead minions release my crew, and I will follow you from this campsite.”

Protests rise up from my crew, including Kearan’s loud “Sorinda, no!”

“You have loyal followers,” Threydan says. “I’m not surprised, but I don’t know that I can trust them. You will follow me, and my minions, as you call them, will follow thereafter.”

“So they can murder the crew the second I’m out of sight? I don’t think so.”

“Can you promise me your crew will not fight or follow when we leave?”

I keep my face clear as I look into the eyes of my crew one by one. “You will not follow. You will not fight. That is an order.”

“No!”

One shout is louder than all the rest as little Roslyn finally leaves the tent. She’s bundled in Dimella’s coat and boots, the rapier I gifted her unsheathed and ready to skewer Threydan.

“You can’t take her,” Roslyn says. “I won’t let you.”

“Roslyn,” I bite out in my most forceful voice. “Get back in the tent now!”