My thoughts are hazy as we approach the main deck, and I can’t tell if we’ve ventured into rougher waters, or if I simply can’t keep my balance. Rian keeps jerking me upright, and I do nothing to help him. Only some of that is deliberate. I don’t know who hit me, but I’d bet good money it was Sablo, because his fist caught me in the face with enough force that I’m wondering if my jaw is broken. It wasn’t long ago that I was standing on this deck, issuing threats to Captain Blakemore.

And now we’re all trapped.

I didn’t hear much from the girl from the locked room aside from enraged screams, but it’s obvious she was a prisoner. Her limbs are frail, and she seems malnourished and pale.

Rian drags me to the main mast.

“I knew this was all a ruse,” I say to him.

“It wasn’t a ruse.” He all but shoves me to the deck.

My head spins, but I glare up at him. “Of course not.

This all feels very diplomatic, Captain Blakemore.”

He ignores me. Sablo carries the unconscious girl to the next mast, then ties her to the wooden beam securely. Marchon tethers Rocco to the same one.

Gwyn ties Tessa two beams away, facing away from me.

That feels very deliberate. At least she’s unharmed. I want to negotiate to keep her safe, but I don’t want to give them more leverage over me than they already have.

I never should have let her do this.

Every time I swallow, I taste blood. There’s an ache in my side that won’t let up. I glare at Rian. “I should have had Rocco throw you over the railing.”

“You still wouldn’t have overtaken my crew. We had you outnumbered.”

“On purpose.”

“Well. Yes.” He kneels beside me to tie my bound hands to the mast.

“Harristan will never negotiate with you,” I say. “He will if he wants his brother back.”

“He’s the king,” I snap. “Why would he negotiate for anything with you? You’re not in a position of power.”

He gives a humorless laugh, then tugs at the ropes. “Oh, that’s right. I’m just here to sail the ship.” He draws back to meet my eyes. “King Harristan very specifically told me he expects you to return unharmed.”

“He’s not going to yield anything to a man who’s little more than a pirate.” Rian doesn’t move, so I add, “Who’s the other young woman? Why did you keep her locked in that room?”

“It’s not important.”

“You have me tied to a mast,” I say. “You killed one of my guards. You’ve taken me hostage.” Anger is building in my chest, and my head pounds. I have to take a steadying breath. “It feels rather important.”

“You could have just stayed civil until we reached Ostriary. None of this had to happen.”

“I feel like that’s skirting the edge of the truth. Again, contempt does not suit you.”

“It’s not contempt. She has nothing to do with you. She has nothing to do with Kandala. I told you to stay away from that room—and you manipulated Tessa into breaking in on your behalf.”

“If it makes you feel any better, she was breaking in to prove that you weren’t working against us. So I suppose we both manipulated her.”

He glowers but says nothing. He doesn’t like that.

Good. I’m not done. I glance at the young woman bound near Rocco. “How did you hide her when my guards searched your ship?”

“Does it matter?”

Probably not, but I’m curious.

He shakes his head anyway. “Bella has nothing to do with any of you. I’ve approached you in good faith since the beginning.”

“Good faith! You lectured me on the ethics of Kandalan laws, while you were starving a prisoner right here on board.”

“I wasn’t starving her!” he snaps—but he quickly regains his composure, and he straightens, looking down at me. “We could have helped both our people, Your Highness. But your pride got in the way, and you set me as your adversary the very instant you placed a foot on board the Dawn Chaser.”

“Both our people?” I repeat. “You really have allied yourself with Ostriary, haven’t you?”

He says nothing.

I study him, trying to figure it out. My head aches and it hurts to think, but I say, “Did this new king promise you something if you made a deal with Kandala?” I say to him. “Why are you risking yourself?”

“No one promised me anything. I’ve promised them.” He runs a hand back through his hair and sighs. A bruise has

formed on his face from where I hit him. Good. I hope it hurts spectacularly.

“Why?” I demand. “You said yourself that you were a boy. Your father put you in this position. You owe them nothing.”

His eyes snap to mine, but he snorts. “Just like your father put you in this position.”

I stare right back at him. I remember the day we met, when I asked about his father.

Dead. The same as yours.

“What happened to him?” I say. “You said he died in their war. You’d think that would make you more loyal to Kandala. Not less.”

He drops to a crouch and looks me right in the eye. “I’m not loyal to Kandala. I never was.”

He says it so plainly that the words hit me like a blow. Then he leaves me bound there and moves away.

There are too many variables here. I can’t quite piece any of them together. I wanted access to that room because I was seeking proof that Rian was lying about something— and I guess I got it.

I just didn’t expect it to be in the form of an unconscious girl who looks like she hasn’t eaten in weeks.

But I can’t do anything for her. I can hardly do anything for us.

I blink in the early sunlight and take stock of our situation.

It’s not good.

I look over at the girl. Her wheezing is worse than Harristan when he has a coughing fit. Tessa seems unharmed, which is good, but Captain Blakemore isn’t stupid. She’s on the other end of the deck. I hope she has the good sense to be compliant. Despite everything, she has the best chance at being released.

Rocco is on his knees, bound to the mast between us. I don’t know if he was struck by a bolt from a crossbow or if he took a blade, but he’s a bit slumped, as if his bindings are all that’s holding him upright. I’m concerned about the amount of blood on his livery.

No Silas. No Lochlan. I don’t know what they’ve done with them—if anything.

I swallow again. My throat is thick.

I glance out at the water. One brigantine is closer, but I doubt they’re close enough to see that we’re held captive on deck, even with a spyglass. If they’re here at my brother’s order, I wouldn’t mind the assistance, but it’s not like Rian can’t slit my throat if they start firing cannons. The only leverage I have is that he’ll want me alive if he intends to use me against Harristan—but that clearly doesn’t mean I’ll be kept in comfort.

But if that ship is here for nefarious purposes, I don’t want to face it with my hands lashed to a wooden beam.

Not that I have a choice. Knowing my luck, they’ll fire on the Dawn Chaser and we’ll all drown.

More of the crew have come up on deck now, and it’s obvious they’ve heard what happened—but you’d think we weren’t even here. They begin going about their morning duties, barely glancing at any of us. Rian has retired to his stateroom, but he’s not far from the window. I can see him watching all of us. Gwyn isn’t far either. She stands at the helm. Sablo and Marchon are at the other end.

The crew might be working, but the key players are stressed. I might be able to use that to my advantage.

Maybe? Possibly?

I don’t know who I think I’m fooling.

I test my bonds. The ropes don’t give an inch. I’m on my knees, but I’m tied too tightly to sit fully. My hands are

already tingling, so I shift to try to slacken the pressure. It doesn’t help.

Panic threatens to bubble up in my chest, but I force it back down. I’ve been bound before. I’ve been captured before. I survived that, I can survive this.

I don’t know what will happen if we try to talk to each other, but it’s not like things can get much worse.

“Rocco,” I say.

He blinks and looks up, and it takes a second longer than it should. “Your Highness.”

“You’re injured.”

“A blade caught me under my ribs. It’s not too deep.” His breathing seems shallow, contradicting his words.

“Do you know what happened to Silas?”

“They could have confined him to his quarters.”

I hear what he’s not saying. Or he could be dead.

Even if we somehow get free, there would be three of us against Rian’s entire crew. Unarmed and injured.

If Silas survived, that only makes four.

“Lochlan was on deck with us,” I say. “What happened to him?”

“I don’t know.” He pauses. “Possibly confined to his quarters as well.”

“Your boy’s down in the galley,” calls one of the crewmen. Tor, I think. “Dabriel’s got him shelling the crabs.”

Down in the galley. Like he’s one of the crew. I scowl. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.

Rocco winces, then shifts his weight. A bloom of sweat glistens on his forehead. I should ask if he’s more injured than he’s letting on—but I probably don’t want the answer. It’s no secret that he’s hurt and in pain—but Gwyn was calling for Rian to shoot him. I’m sure he worries that being seen as a liability would not improve his position.

I draw a long breath and try to think of a plan. I have nothing.

Instead, I think of my brother. That’s no better.

Harristan. I failed. I’m sorry.

I swallow thickly, and I try to freeze my thoughts before emotion gets the better of me while I’m bound here on the deck. We’re definitely moving into more tumultuous waters, because the ship rocks and sways. I clench my eyes closed and tug at the ropes.

One of the crewmen pours a bucket of water across the deck, and it’s like ice when it hits my knees. My eyes snap open, glaring, and I find Tor shoving filthy water across the deck with a broom.

He sees my look and shrugs. “Can’t help it. Orders are orders.”

Nearby, a woman moans, and I jerk my head around, worried it’s Tessa.

No, it’s the blond woman who’s all but lying in a heap against the mast beside Rocco. Her hair is a wild mess of tangles, and her clothes are loose and ill fitting. Her skin is the color of wet sand, her eyes so dark they could be black. She’s so thin that I can’t tell how old she is. Not much older than Tessa, surely.

She uses her bindings to lever herself upright, then blinks at the sun. She cranes her neck around to see Rocco, then me, then the crew.

Tor gives her a grin. “Looking bright this morning, Bella.”

She inhales deeply and coughs—then spits at him. “Make a meal of your own entrails, Tor.”

He laughs and sweeps another bucketful of water away. “Always a lady.”

She’s wheezing a bit, but she looks at me. “Which one are you?”

I’m not sure if my titles would be a good thing or a bad thing to this woman, and I’m hopeful she’ll give me more information than the captain is willing to share.

“My name is Corrick,” I say.

“The prince.” She sneers. “You’re the one who’s stupid enough to give him steel.”

No, I’m the one who was stupid enough to get on this ship at all. “He has me tied to the mast,” I say. “I don’t think I’ll be giving him much of anything.” I pause. “Who are you?”

She evaluates me like she’s also wondering how much to share. But she works her fingers against the bindings, then must realize secrets don’t matter. “I’m Bella,” she says. “Rian’s keeping me for leverage.”

“That makes two of us. Why are you leverage?”

“So my father doesn’t blow this ship out of the water.” She coughs again, then wheezes. She turns her head to yell at Gwyn. “But he should. I hope he does. I don’t care if I drown. I’ll scream it to him the whole—”

She breaks off coughing again, then wheezes, trying to catch her breath.

Her fractured breathing doesn’t just remind me of Harristan’s lingering illness. It sounds so much of the fever sickness—which Rian said wasn’t prevalent in Ostriary. Did she catch it from us somehow? Or was he lying?

Or do they simply have so much Moonflower that no one ever gets sick? Has he been withholding medicine from her? Is that why she was locked in that room?

But then I realize what Bella said. “Why would your father blow him out of the water?” I say. I consider all the political ramifications here, and I straighten. “Is your father the king? Is that why he’s holding you—”

She bursts out laughing, a sound bordering on hysteria. “My father is Oren Crane, and he should be king. If he were, Rian would’ve been dead a year ago.” She sobers quickly, her eyes a little wild. She screams at the stateroom. “He should have slit your throat, Rian. He should’ve drowned your brat, Gwyn. He should’ve—”

Rian steps out on the deck. “That’s enough, Bella.”

“Or what?” she demands. “You’ll lock me back in that room? You’ll keep feeding me poison? Go ahead.” Rian starts walking toward her, but she keeps going. “They already know who you are, you lying, conniving son of a—”

“I don’t,” I say quickly, worried Rian is going to shut her up and I’ll learn nothing new. “Tell me.”

She looks at me. “You don’t know who he is?” Rian is striding across the deck now.

“He said he was a spy sent by Kandala,” I say in a rush. “He said he wanted to introduce me to the king of Ostriary with the goal of negotiating for steel. He was willing to liaise with the royal court—”

She bursts out laughing again. “Liaise with the royal court.” Her laughter ends with choked coughing. Rocco meets my eyes with concern.

“Bella,” Rian says sharply.

I look from him to her. I’m still not fully sure what’s happening here. “There’s no royal court?”

“Oh no. There is.” She spits at Rian’s boots, then glares up at him, a trail of saliva clinging to her chin. “But you don’t need a liaison. You could negotiate with the king right now.”

My thoughts are spinning, but on that sentence, they go still. Even my heart seems to pause. The crew is paying attention now. Brooms have stopped. Chatter has gone silent.

I look up at Rian, backed by the sun. The wind tugs at his clothes and sparks color in his cheeks, but he’s staring back at me implacably.

I’m not loyal to Kandala. I never was.

“Go ahead, Your Majesty,” says Bella, choking on laughter again. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”