Whatever the case, I felt great. I grabbed Setne by the throat with one hand and began to squeeze. He
fought like a demon. (Believe me, I know. I’ve fought a few.) The crown of Ptolemy glowed in the water,
steaming like a volcanic vent. Setne clawed at my arm and exhaled streams of bubbles—maybe trying to
cast spells, or maybe trying to sweet talk me out of strangling him. I couldn’t hear him, and I didn’t want
to. Underwater, I was in charge.