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“Isn’t there something you’d like to offer in exchange for my silence?” he asks, removing his gloves one finger at a time.

I get the feeling he’s not asking for something valuable, like my mother’s pearls. I can tell by the way he’s leering at me.

I’ve seen that look before, the predatory longing stirring gritty images from the bottom of my memories.

Men laughing at the bow of their ship. Harpoons flying. Hooks swinging through the water. Blood foaming on the raging waves. Blood everywhere.

I lick my teeth, tasting a coppery tang as Ross extends a bare finger toward my cheek.

“What do you say?” he asks, his eyes bulging as a blurred figure smacks his arm away, preventing him from making contact with my skin.

“I say you should kneel before Princess Cordelia, the youngest daughter of the Mer-King, and daughter of the Southern Sea.” Zephyr appears behind him and shoves him down to his knees.

There’s too much force behind the push. Ross falls flat on his face, and I leap back to get away from him.

“Princess Cordelia,” he laughs, spitting a mouthful of leaves and grass. “And who does that make you, Professor?” Ross snorts at the thought as he lifts his head to look over his shoulder. “Zephyr, the air faerie?”

“Yes, I am her guardian.” They drop their cloak and spread their wings. They’re almost opaque without the moon shining through them.

“I didn’t know.” He crawls forward on his knees, stumbling several times before he makes it onto his feet. “Please tell them to show mercy.” He clasps his hands beneath his chin. “I would never disrespect you, p-p-princess.”

“But you would gladly take advantage of a fisherwoman,” I say, giving Zephyr the go-ahead.

They vanish, and Ross reaches for his pistol, but Zephyr is too fast. They reappear and snap his neck before he can remove the weapon from its holster.

His body falls at my feet, and I step over him to hug Zephyr. They tuck their wings back, their arms like steel around me as someone claps in the thin copse near the drop-off.

A man is leaning against one of the trees, applauding the scene. My eyes struggle to focus on his shaded features, but I know who he is as soon as his eyes glow red.

“Marvelous.” The kelpie claps his hands together again. “I was going to kill him myself, but it seemed unfair to intervene, so I thought I’d watch.”

“I appreciate that,” Zephyr grunts. “We met your friend.”

He pushes away from the tree, tugging on his jacket. He’s wearing proper clothes this evening, his hair brushed back and topped with a flat cap. “Yes, I saw her a little while ago. She made it back to the sea safely.”

Zephyr makes another dissatisfied noise. “I’m glad, but she wasn’t much help to us.”

“So I heard.” The kelpie studies his nails. “That means we both owe you a debt.”

“There’s not much time to repay it,” Zephyr says.

“You never know. We might show up when you need us most.” The kelpie bends over Ross’s corpse. “And at the very least, I can dispose of this body.”

“What should I call you if I see you again?” I ask.

“Mortals shake at the mere sound of my true name. It invokes a sense of dread,” the kelpie says. “I cannot share it for your sake.”

I don’t like referring to him as the kelpie, though. “How about Kyle?”

The rims of his eyes burn brighter. “Kyle?”

“Like Kyle the Dreadful,” I say, referencing the old fairy tale. “But you would be Kyle the kelpie.”

“Fine.” He sighs through his nose, the sound horse-like. “I suppose I like it enough.”

“Goodnight, Kyle,” Zephyr says, pulling me back toward the hill. They let go, and I take small steps along the grassy slope.

The castle seems so far away.