They did as ordered. As I straightened my doublet, I noted with satisfaction that she memorized their faces for later, too.

So there.

“Raine,” Imala called with a pointed glance back at the fancy goblin courtiers on the yacht. “Would you be so kind as to tell me who fired this dart?”

Imala knew I was a seeker, and that finding or simply identifying someone based on their connection to an object was one of my best tricks. Phaelan and I walked over to her and not one goblin dared to stop us. I carefully accepted the cloth-wrapped dart from her.

I glanced at the healer. “When he removes that bolt, I might be able to tell you who notched it.”

The head of the goblin secret service gave me a dazzling smile complete with dimple. “You’ll have the eternal gratitude of the goblin people.”

I knew of at least two goblin people who wouldn’t be grateful—the ones whose faces I’d be describing to Imala.

As Tam stood up, one of the goblin guards picked up his robe from the dock and respectfully draped it around Tam’s shoulders. The robe fell past the heels of his boots, and even sopping wet, Tam looked like a prince himself. Though Tam would have been the kind of prince who could wake a sleeping princess at fifty paces. Just because we weren’t involved didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate what was there in all of its tall, silvery-skinned, black-eyed wicked sexiness.

Imala nodded to her pair of dripping-wet agents who moved to prevent anyone from leaving the prince’s yacht.

“They were only doing their jobs, Raine,” Tam said, his voice low. “Something blows up and a Benares is close by.” He glanced at Phaelan. “Make that two.”

Phaelan snorted. “They do their jobs too damned well. Raine was trying to stop that boat, not push it.”

“And I had it until Chigaru’s mages horned in on my spell,” I said. “There wouldn’t have been an explosion if they’d let me finish.”