This time, when I awake before sunrise, I stay up. According to my pocket watch, it’s not quite six, but if everyone on this boat is going to hate me, it feels like the only time to avoid a deck full of censorious glares.

It’s early enough that Rocco is still outside my door, cards in an array on the floor before him. I don’t startle him this time, but he begins to rise immediately.

I wave him back down. “Stay,” I say to him. “I hoped to get some fresh air.”

He stands anyway. “One of us should accompany you. I’ll fetch Kilbourne.”

“If you must.” I don’t wait.

The sea is rougher this morning, and I need to grab the railing as I ascend. A few stars still twinkle in the sky when I climb above, the moon hanging at a distance. The sails throw shadows everywhere, and I spy a lone figure at the helm, but whoever it is, I ignore them and head for the front.

Knowing my luck, it’s probably Captain Blakemore.

When I step around the forward mast, I see that this end of the ship isn’t deserted either. Little Anya sits on the

forecastle, just out of the wind, bouncing a tiny ball inside a low-walled box. She looks up in surprise when she spots me, drawing in a sharp breath. For an instant, I’m reminded of the way Tessa almost flinched when I caught her arm, and something inside me clenches tight.

I hate the way everyone sees me. I’m used to it in Kandala, but I can lose myself in the palace, where no one would dare to send a glare my way.

Here on this ship, the condemnation seems inescapable.

But recognition lights in Anya’s eyes, and instead of cringing away, her features brighten. “Do you want to play with me?”

Not really, but I’m not going to shun the only person who doesn’t look like they want to pitch me overboard.

“Sure.” I drop to sit across from her. Inside the box are half a dozen tiny wooden shapes in addition to the ball she was bouncing. “What are we playing?”

“Knucklebones,” she says.

“You’ll have to teach me.” From the corner of my eye, I notice that Rocco has come onto the deck as well, but he’s keeping his distance. Maybe he can gape at me like Kilbourne was.

“We take turns,” she says. “I bounce the ball and take a bone—”

“These are bones?” I say, feigning horror.

“No, silly. They’re pretend. Now, watch. I bounce it again, then try to take two, and then three, and if I miss, it’s your turn—”

“Oh,” I say, suddenly understanding. “I know this game.

It’s jacks.”

“No, it’s knucklebones.”

“Well, it’s jacks in Kandala. I’ll warn you: I’m very good.”

Her smile widens, and she leans in, taunting. “Not as good as me.”

“Go ahead, then. Prove it.”

To my surprise, she is very good. She’s quick and sharp and doesn’t miss until she goes for her fourth set. I quickly see the reason for the box: the rock and sway of the boat would send the ball all over the deck.

But every time she reaches for the jacks—the knucklebones, I suppose—the sleeve of her shirt draws back, and I see those scars across each forearm. They’re not very long, in varying directions, and very straight. Definitely caused by a blade.

I frown, thinking of the cook’s warning yesterday, or the way a shadow fell across her features before she recognized me. Anya doesn’t like strangers.

I think about the fact that Sablo is missing a tongue, or the way Tessa told me about the gutted citadel and the pirates in Ostriary.

I think about that locked room that Rian refuses to open. There is a part of me that wants to get off this ship at

Port Karenin.

There’s another part of me that wants to wait around and find answers.

When I bounce the ball, I realize that it’s harder than it looks on board a ship. I fail on my second set.

Anya grins. “I told you!”

“You did indeed.” I hand her the ball and try not to think about the fact that Rocco suggested that we could use this child as leverage, if necessary.

“Are you really a prince?” Anya says. “Yes.”

“Why isn’t there a princess?”

“Ah, most likely because I don’t have any sisters.”

For some reason she finds this hilarious, and she giggles so hard that she only catches one of the wooden trinkets. “No, why don’t you have a wife.”

“A wife? Miss Anya, you are rather forward.” I take the ball, bounce it, and make it to three this time.

She takes the ball, but before she bounces it, she peers up at me. “Why is your name Your highness?”

That makes me smile. “It’s not. My name is Corrick.” Her face screws up. “Then why—”

“Anya.” Gwyn speaks from behind me. “Leave the man in peace. Dabriel is ready to start the breakfast rolls anyway.”

Anya gasps, then springs to her feet, taking the box with her. Her voice calls out behind her as she clatters down the stairs. “Goodbye, Your Highness Corrick!”

I uncurl from the deck more sedately to face Rian’s lieutenant. I’m not entirely sure what she thinks of me, but I know what the captain thinks of me, and I remember how Gwyn told me to let Tessa go last night. I wonder if she was alarmed to find me sitting with her daughter.

The better part of me wants to say something reassuring, an encouraging statement like, What a bright child, Lieutenant. You must be so proud.

But the worst part of me is feeling tense and prickly and judged, so I say, “Don’t worry. She was clever enough to keep out of my reach.”

I’m expecting her to dig back at me, the way Rian would, but her expression doesn’t flicker. “I wasn’t worried.”

“You certainly seemed worried about Miss Cade last night.”

She snorts. “I wasn’t worried about her either. I didn’t want a bunch of hotheaded sailors to get in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel.”

We’re not lovers.

The words stall on my tongue. Putting voice to things like that always seems to make them more official. More finite.

Maybe Tessa would want me to say it, though.

But by the time I’ve reasoned all this out, the moment has passed, and wind is whipping across the water, battering the sails overhead. I slip my hands into my jacket pockets and regard Lieutenant Tagas.

“You don’t hate me like your captain?” I say.

“There aren’t too many people I hate,” she says. “You’re not on the list.” She hesitates. “The war in Ostriary was brutal and vicious, Your Highness. I know you and Rian don’t see eye to eye, but he’s seen a lot of terrible people do a lot of terrible things. So have I.”

I think of those scars on her daughter’s arms. Most people probably wouldn’t comment on it, but I’m just agitated enough to push. “Like what happened to Anya?”

She freezes, and a flare of rage fills her eyes. “Oren Crane is a bad man.”

“He did that to her?” “Yes.”

“Why?”

Her gaze holds mine. “To punish me for getting away from him.”

I frown.

“It was war,” she adds, as if that explains everything.

Maybe it does, and maybe it doesn’t. I keep thinking about the moment Rian challenged me, when he implied that Harristan and I were putting people in a situation where they had no choice but to risk their lives. There are certainly people in Kandala who would refer to us as bad men, too. But we didn’t have any good choices either. At least we weren’t torturing children to make a point.

Though Rocco did say we could use Anya for leverage.

I thought he meant an adult at the time, but I didn’t confront him once I knew the truth.

I don’t like the path of these thoughts.

I’ve been quiet too long, and Gwyn says, “I didn’t come over here to talk about Anya. I’m trying to make sure you and Rian make it to Ostriary without one of you going overboard. I don’t think either of you should throw away a chance to make things better over a pissing match.”

A pissing match! I bristle. “Did you offer Captain Blakemore this same lecture?”

“I did.”

Oh. For some reason that’s not the answer I was expecting, and I wonder if it’s true.

But I remember her sitting in that first meeting, how she didn’t quite chastise him for his attitude, but almost.

“He told me what he said to you,” she says. “About locking someone in a room—then threatening death if they tried to escape.”

“Splendid. Perhaps we should form a quorum regarding the governing practices of Kandala, and you can all pass judgment.” Despite my words, I’m still stinging from the analogy. I don’t want it to show on my face, so I look out across the water. The sun is beginning to peek above the horizon, and I can see the mouth of the river widening where it dumps into the sea, the land on either side giving way.

We’re close to Port Karenin. I’ll have to make a decision.

I don’t trust Captain Blakemore any more than I did when I got on board this ship. But I don’t like the thought of disembarking. Everything about it seems fearful.

“I’m not trying to pass judgment,” Gwyn says. “As I said to Rian, you didn’t lock anyone in a room.”

She’s wrong on that. I’ve locked plenty of people in cells.

They can think what they want of our tactics. We kept as many people alive as we could.

“Why would you defend me?” I say. “You don’t know me at all.”

“I know Ostriary needs steel,” she says. “I know the royal court of Ostriary is barely in place, and the war was very hard-won. I told your girl Tessa about Oren Crane and the other rebels who are waiting for a chance to take control. People are tired and want to be done. If Rian can bring you back to arrange a deal, it would go a long way toward maintaining peace.”

Your girl Tessa. I know I should be focusing on the rest of what she’s saying, but my thoughts have caught and stalled on those words in particular.

I frown. “So you’ve been sent to keep the peace between me and him.”

She lets out a breath. “Maybe I’m being impolitic. But I’m a sailor first, not a courtier. I don’t think it would serve anyone well for you to disembark at Port Karenin.”

There’s a note in her tone that gives me pause, and I study her, trying to figure it out. She and Rian have both talked about peace, and fair trade, and how both countries are eager to be at peace and have what they need. But since the moment I set foot on the Dawn Chaser, I’ve felt a deep, unsettling suspicion, and I can’t seem to shake it.

I’m just not sure where the greatest risk lies. “I’ll take it under advisement,” I say.

She gives me a nod as if she’s not surprised by my answer. “Thank you for hearing me out.” She hesitates, then gives a nod toward the captain’s stateroom. “He’ll be out here checking the rigging before long.”

“Is that a warning?”

She smiles, and the skin around her eyes crinkles. “I just thought you should know. Maybe you could be the one to climb with him today.”

“I would absolutely try my hardest not to push him off.”

She genuinely laughs at that, which takes me by surprise—and makes me smile.

“I’ve got to get back to the helm,” she says. “Let me know your decision by breakfast so we can adjust course.”

“I will.”

When she moves away, I’m not alone for long. Rocco draws close.

He says nothing, but I know he’s waiting for me to state whether there’s any cause for concern. I rest my hands on the railing and say, “She doesn’t want me to get off the ship in Port Karenin.”

“I truly don’t think the captain does either.” He doesn’t nod at the horizon, but his eyes are fixed on the water ahead of us. “Do you see those ships far in the distance?”

I stare out at the sea. It takes me a moment, because they’re so far that I wouldn’t have noticed them at all if he hadn’t pointed them out. “Yes.”

“I’d need a spyglass to see if I could tell much detail, but it’s unusual to see two ships of that size sailing together.”

I frown. “Are you concerned?”

“We’re nearing the southern end of the river. Again, I’d need a spyglass and a sextant to be sure, but they seem far enough that they could be well into the ocean.”

“And you don’t think they’re Kandalan ships?”

“I don’t know. We’ll need to get closer to know for sure. They could be ships waiting for Captain Blakemore—or they could be ships waiting for you.”

I keep my fingers on the railing so I give no indication of what we’re discussing. My heart has begun a deep thrum in my chest. “Advise.”

“The captain offered to let you leave the ship. That suggests this isn’t a kidnapping—at least not on his end.”

“So did Lieutenant Tagas. She asked me to alert her if I’ve made the decision to change course.” I hesitate. “Are we overthinking this?”

“I would feel better if he were more forthright about the contents of the locked room.” He pauses. “He can keep the key hidden, but what’s the risk of allowing you to see the weapons?”

“I agree.”

“And what’s to stop us from breaking in?” I whip my head around.

“It’s a simple lock.” Rocco shrugs. “They truly are shorthanded. There are one or two watchmen overnight, but during the afternoon, most of the crew is either sleeping or gutting fish.” He pauses. “Of your guards, there are generally only two of us on duty at once.”

While the other is presumably sleeping.

“Do you think you could break the lock?” I say, my voice low. My heart keeps hammering along, torn between relief that the captain probably is as forthright as he seems—and terror that somehow this ship will be overtaken and I’ll be captured by someone worse.

“Breaking it wouldn’t be a problem,” Rocco says. “Leaving evidence would be.” He glances at me. “He’d know it was done by your order—if not done by you yourself.”

I have no idea how Captain Blakemore would react if I broke into that room, but I have no doubt he’d take it personally. That’s not a story I need carried to the king of Ostriary either. Rian can say whatever he wants about my reputation, but my actions in the Royal Sector were to enforce laws that were well known. Breaking into a locked room on this ship would be a lot harder to explain away—

and it certainly wouldn’t demonstrate that the king of Kandala and his brother were prepared to negotiate in good faith.

I stare out at the water, at the two distant ships, at the sun that’s beginning to burn a path into dawn.

I wish I could talk to Tessa.

I remember her face when I caught her wrist, when that needle was clutched so precariously against her palm.

I remember Lochlan at my back. Let her go.

As usual, everyone already expects the worst of me. It’s part of the reason I expect the worst of everyone else.

At the opening to the deck, a head appears, peeking above. It’s Tessa, early as usual. She’s looking the other way, so she doesn’t see me. My gut clenches, and I’m tempted to call for a return to port just so I can get off this ship and go back to the way things were.

But if I’ve learned anything, there’s no going back. I can’t undo my mistakes with Tessa. I can’t fix the fever sickness, and I can’t reverse everything Harristan and I have done wrong along the way.

I can’t undo the assassination of my parents. All I can do is move forward.

I look at Rocco. “Tell Lieutenant Tagas to stay the course. We’ll continue on to Ostriary.”

“And what of the ships?”

Tessa finally turns and spots me. Her mouth is a line, and I can’t read her expression. Experience tells me she’s every bit as conflicted as I feel. She’s probably thinking about leaping off the ladder and returning to her room.

But she doesn’t.

I sigh. “Let’s wait and see.”