I held the corset top up to myself and examined my reflection. “I’m not sure… a sword? Strapped to my back? Really? That’ll just get in the way.”

“It’ll be helpful,” Mrs. P told me, snagging a pair of stretch fabric slippers with curly toes. “You’ll need a weapon to guard me. There are slave bracelets, too.”

I looked at the arm bracelets she held out, along with a pair of gauntlets. “I don’t think they call them that anymore. But I do admit they might cover any untoward upper arm pudginess.” I eyed my reflection again and decided to the throw caution to the wind. It might be a silly costume, but at least it wasn’t overly revealing, no more so than a knee-length sleeveless dress would be.

Mrs. P took the chakram, a circular weapon that accompanied the outfit, and plopped it on her head with satisfaction, tipping it at a rakish angle, and tying it in place with yet another feather boa. “I’ll take the hat.”

“I’m not sure that’s a… never mind. You can wear it as a weird sort of hat if it makes you happy.”

Twenty minutes later, the passengers on the upper deck of the Wepwawet ceased their pleasant chattering, gossiping, laughing, and in one case, singing along to the tinny song emerging from an aging boom box. All of the passengers, as well as the crew members present, turned to watch with silent amazement as Mrs. P and I stepped out onto the deck.

The captain, a drink frozen halfway to his mouth, stared with unblinking eyes.

“Good evening,” I greeted everyone with what I hoped appeared to be good humor and not a desperate attempt to pretend nothing out of the ordinary was happening. “I’m sorry we’re late. Mrs. P was having some trouble with one of her curled slippers not fitting right.”

The eyes of the twenty or so tourists moved from me to Mrs. P’s feet, then returned.

“You are aware,” Captain Kherty said in a deep voice, “that the costume party is the final night of the cruise.”

It was a statement, but I waved such concern away with leather-braceleted arm. “Yes, and I’m sure we’ll be able to pick up something a little less showy when we stop at a town, but until then, we’re forced by circumstances beyond our control into these little ensembles.”

“My sisters!” Mrs. P squealed with delight, and hurried over to the far end of the ship where a group of six women was laughing and chatting and clinking glasses with one another. They greeted the newcomer with cries of happiness.

“She has sisters?” I asked aloud, noting that all the women were apparently in their twenties, and probably all had jobs as underwear models.

“That is very interesting,” the captain said, and with a dark look cast at the group of women, murmured something and toddled off.

“There you are. What a very unique ensemble,” said a familiar voice. A small clutch of about four people nearest me parted, and May came through with a smile, Gabriel following her. “We heard about what happened at your hotel. I’d offer you some of my clothes, but I’m afraid they wouldn’t fit you. Perhaps Mrs. P, though… where is she?”

“Chatting with some friends, evidently.”

By now the other people on the deck had gotten over their shock from our costumes and continued their previous activities.

“I’m sorry,” I said, aware my confusion was showing. “Why are you here? Are you stalking us?” After the events of the evening, I wasn’t about to trust anyone, not even people who seemed like they had our best interests in mind.

“Stalking?” May’s eyebrows rose a good inch. “Not in the least. We’re here to help you.”

“By following us?” I asked suspiciously. “Look, I know that you’re Rowan’s friends, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Friends?” Gabriel looked appalled at that thought. “With the Dragon Breaker?”

“We said we were going to put that behind us while we had to work together,” May pointed out.

“That does not mean that we need think of Rowan as a friend.”

“Did I hear my name being invoked?” Rowan suddenly appeared at my side, wearing an unrumpled linen shirt, brown khakis, and a pair of sunglasses pushed up into his hair. He looked like the personification of a wealthy, sophisticated man on his yacht, as coolly collected and in control as anyone could be.

A familiar faint lemony smell teased my nose, instantly making me want to romp all over him.

No, I told my libido. Not until we get a few things straight, like whether he had anything to do with the room or if he misled me into thinking he was interested in me.

His lips curled into a little smile at me, sending a hot wave of emotion that no doubt manifested itself in pink cheeks. I couldn’t tell if I was angry, aroused, or annoyed. Possibly all three. Definitely all three.

He examined me from head to lace-up sandals. “Interesting choice of cruise wear. I didn’t know you were a fan of Xena.”

“Isn’t every woman? She was a warrior princess,” I said as nonchalantly as I could. With a move I had practiced in the bathroom while changing, I pulled the sword from my back and made a couple of movements with it. “All the better to protect my employer from nefarious brigands who would do her harm.”

Rowan glanced around. “Where is our light-fingered friend?”

“Gel,” Mrs. P said, right on cue, leading her herd of models to us. “My sisters are here.”

“Er…” I said, eyeing them. “Sisters?”

“We are all priestesses of Heka,” one of the models said, a brunette with a flawless complexion. “As is our sister Aset.”

“Pleasure to meet you, but… sisters?”

“Sisters,” Mrs. P insisted. “The one next to you is Ahset—she has an H in her name, whereas I do not—then there’s Ipy, Khenut, Henit, Dedyet, Bunefer, and the tipsy one is Gilukhipa.”

“I love champagne, don’t you?” Gilukhipa said with a happy little hiccup.

“Wow. That’s… that’s some sisterhood you have there.” I tried not to look like someone who needed to lose twenty pounds. “And how lucky for you that they’re on the same cruise.”

“We came to help our sister,” the one named Ipy said. She seemed to be the ringleader, since the other ladies just murmured in response. “We knew she would have need of us to guard her secret from those who would discover it, and thus we are here.”