“Baelusa,” she told Tam.

I had no idea what baelusa was, but Imala’s glare and Tam’s spat curse told me it meant plenty to them.

The goblin healer knelt beside the prince, his healing magic a living, pulsing thing. He placed one hand over Chigaru’s chest, holding the other a few inches above the prince’s mouth. A spiral tattoo on the back of both hands darkened from blood red to almost black. I felt the steady strength of air being pulled into Chigaru’s lungs and being pushed out from his nose and mouth.

The harbor around us was chaos, but no one on the dock moved or spoke.

Suddenly, the goblin prince gasped and started coughing.

Tam’s glare went from the guards to the goblins gathered on the yacht’s deck—the prince’s courtiers, personal guards, and mages. Imala’s eyes quickly took in the faces of everyone on that deck, storing them for later questioning.

One of them had just tried to assassinate their prince.

That dart had taken the prince in the back of the neck. The person who fired it had to have been standing behind him. Every goblin on Chigaru’s yacht had been standing behind him. One of his own tried to poison him. Khrynsani disguised as elves tried to blow him up. And an unknown assassin armed with a crossbow wasn’t about to be left out of the fun and took his own shot.

Someone—or several someones—wanted Chigaru really dead. Blown up, shot, and poisoned all in less than ten seconds. I think the goblin prince just set a new assassination attempt record.

Imala stood and carefully wrapped the dart in a small square of cloth. That done, she turned to our guards, who were still dutifully not tearing us in two. “Release them,” she told them. “Now!” she snapped when they didn’t immediately obey.