If Chigaru survived his fall into the harbor, I was going to kill him.

I got to where Tam had taken a swan dive off the pier and looked down into dirty harbor water.

No prince. No Tam.

Phaelan shouldered through to stand next to me. He looked down in the water, shook his head, and winced. “Damn.”

“Yeah, they’re still under.”

“I was referring to what they’re under,” Phaelan said. “I’ve seen what all gets tossed or dumped in a busy harbor.”

“Good riddance to the goblin scum,” a man’s voice said from nearby.

Phaelan and I turned our heads to find the speaker. He picked that moment to shut up. The comment wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough to earn him some mutters of approval from some of the people around us. Elves mostly, some humans. The murmurs spread and my hand inched toward my sword when a different man from farther back in the crowd said, “drown ’em all like cats” in a loud voice.

Some of the goblins heard that.

Great. Just great.

There was enough elf versus goblin hostility in the air to start our own little war right here. A good number of the elves gathered on shore were mages and their guards. If an elf shoved a goblin or a goblin said something to an elf, the boat would merely be the first explosion of the day.

A pretty, petite, and highly pissed goblin pushed her way through the crowd on a dock jutting out closest to the yacht, and frantically scanned the water. I couldn’t hear the word she spat, but my lip reading was working just fine.

Imala Kalis was the director of the goblin secret service. Like Tam, she wanted the prince in and the king out, but nothing would put the brakes on a coup faster than the future king and his chief mage drowning.

Tam came to the surface, pulling in as much air as his lungs could hold, his arm locked around Chigaru’s shoulders. The prince appeared to be out cold.