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“A quizzing glass.” She takes it and fits the circular frame above her right cheek, the glass magnifying the copper threads scattered throughout the brown tourmaline surface of her eye. “Pip told me these signify intelligence in human society.”

I wrack my brain, trying to figure out who the devil Pip is. Wait, no.

I hope I’m misremembering something. “Pip the seagull?”

“Pip the puffin,” she corrects me. “She also recommends working the word juxtaposition into a sentence.”

“Oh good. I’m glad Pip the puffin knows so much about humans. I’m sure she’s given you some really great information.”

“And what do you know about humans?” she asks. “The decent ones. My sailor is from a nice family. She’s not the sort to find her pleasure in seedy taverns.”

“I know enough to not be surprised when the nicest people spend their coins in the places I frequent.” I’m stung by the reminder of how far I’ve fallen. I deserve it, though. Nothing I’ve done since my capture has been honorable. I remove the eyeglass and press it into her hand. “And I know you’re too clever to need a gods-damned monocle to impress any human.”

“I shouldn’t have made that comment,” she says.

“Don’t trouble yourself over it. I’m not offended.” This is what I’ve become, the specter of a legend, flitting about unnoticed. I’m not what anyone would consider decent.

“No, it was uncalled for.” Her fingers curl around the monocle. “I’m nervous.”

That makes two of us. “You’ll find a way to make it all work, but you should take some time to get to know your sailor.”

“I do know her.”

“As a mermaid,” I point out. “As a human, you’ll need to watch and listen. People around these parts are superstitious about the fae and sea-dwelling creatures. Think before you speak.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it. “That makes me more nervous, actually.”

That might be a good thing. A healthy helping of fear might help her get through this. “As I said, you’re clever. You’ll learn how to fit in.”

“And my sailor will choose me because our love is true,” she says.

I gag reflexively. “I’d better go find her before⁠—”

Flute music flows from the bluff above us, the high notes grating on my nerves.

“It’s our song.” Cordelia cups a hand over her brow and paces backward. “She’s coming.”

I catch her forearms as she sways into me, righting her position. “Welp, I’ll be around if you need anything.”

She glances back, but I’m already gone, wisping through the heather carpeting the bank. I watch as the sailor drops her flute and toes her way over the ledge of the bluff, looking down at Cordelia.

“Hello,” she shouts, her black hair dried into choppy waves ending at her chin beneath the gauze bandage wrapped around her forehead. She holds her flute out like a staff. “Wait there, I’ll be down in a few moments.”

She skips along the rocks, running down the sandy slope and skidding to a stop on the beach.

“It’s you,” she says, and I sense warm hope radiating from Cordelia. “I knew I’d find you.”

Maybe Cordelia was right. Maybe their love is stronger than the sea witch’s spell, and their souls will never forget each other.

I close my eyes to halt a bitter feeling. That would be a happy ending to a lovely story.

“You did?” Cordelia asks, breathless.

“Yes. Everyone said I was alone on the beach, but I swore there was a beautiful woman who saved me.” The sailor tucks the flute into the waistband of her breeches and extends her hand to Cordelia. “Sorry, I seem to have forgotten my manners. I’m Darcy Campbell, Duchess of Blustery Heights, and heir to the House of Cinder.”

That name sounds vaguely familiar. I swirl down closer to Cordelia as it registers.

For years I’ve been hunting for relics and stalking scoundrels in search of a soul to collect, but I should’ve been paying more attention to her damn sailor.