“Why didn’t you tell anyone he was arriving early?”

Tam lowered his voice even further. “I didn’t know,” he said barely moving his lips. Impressive. He clearly didn’t want anyone to know that little piece of information. Tam shot an exasperated look in the prince’s direction. “I didn’t know until Imala told me, and she didn’t know until half an hour ago.”

Phaelan laughed, a short bark. “The crazy bastard’s trying to commit suicide.”

I looked at the prince and almost smiled. “Someone’s going to get a lecture.”

“And then some,” Tam promised. “I know what he was trying to do—and I’ll be having a long talk with His Highness about never doing that again.”

“Playing assassin bait?”

Tam nodded once. He wasn’t looking at the shoreline; he was looking at the windows of the buildings within crossbow-sniper distance of the yacht. There were entirely too many of them, and the shooter was long gone, probably already planning his next attempt.

There couldn’t be one.

If Chigaru died, the hopes of preventing the goblins from inciting a war died with him.

The goblin king wanted that war and he wanted the Saghred’s power to ensure he’d win it. More than a few elven government power brokers wanted the rock for the same reason. Prince Chigaru might not have sense enough not to display himself like a two-legged pincushion, but he drew the line at using the Saghred. He knew the danger and he’d rejected the rock.

That was why it was in my best interests to keep him alive by telling Imala Kalis exactly who wanted him dead.

A guard approached Tam, carrying something wrapped in a piece of cloth. “The bolt, Your Grace.”

Tam took and unwrapped it. Black steel with a red band around the shaft below the fletching. Armor piercing. Our assassin wasn’t taking any chances. Chigaru starting to fall into the harbor a split second before that bolt was fired was the only reason he was alive right now. Tam closely studied the bolt, but was careful not to touch it, then he handed it to me.