I stare at Kilbourne dubiously. “She wants me to pick a fight with Blakemore,” I say. “Now.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

I draw a long breath. I know why.

But it’s too soon. We should wait. Last night was too tense, too close to real conflict for my comfort. She could be seen, and all of this would unravel around us.

There’s no way for me to tell her all of that without going after her—and the only thing worse than Tessa getting caught breaking in would be her doing it with me at her side.

So I nod, leave my quarters, and head for the main deck.

Rocco and Kilbourne both fall in behind me to follow.

They’re both wearing more weapons than they were yesterday. I understand it, but I don’t like it. The presence of more weapons rarely convinces anyone to let down their guard.

As we pass Lochlan’s door, it swings open, and he strides out so brusquely that he almost walks right into Rocco. He quickly falls back, irritation plain on his face. He looks like he wants to slam the door on us all, but he’s not sure he should dare.

Last night, when things went sour between me and the captain, Lochlan spoke up to defend Tessa—and me, in a way. Well, he spoke up to defend Kandala, at the very least. I might not shed a tear if he fell into the ocean, but I can appreciate that he spoke up when it was sorely needed.

And Tessa is right. We’re never going to build trust between the palace and the populace if the King’s Justice can’t get along with one rebel.

“Going up to the main deck?” I say to him. “Join us.” He scowls. “Is that an order, Your Highness?”

He all but spits the words at me, and I see Kilbourne draw himself up. I put up a hand before he can slam the man into the wall again. “No,” I say with every bit of courtly patience I can muster. “Join us, if you please.”

I watch the emotions play out on his face as he deliberates. He wants to refuse, but I’ve surprised him. I didn’t mean for the words to sound like a challenge, but I can’t really help it.

“Fine,” he eventually grinds out.

But a moment later, we’re ascending the steps together, and his movements are tight and forced. His shoulders are rigid, his fingers twisting together. His jaw is so tight that I can see his throat jerk as he swallows.

I’m no stranger to people being afraid of me. But that’s usually in the Hold, where someone has been imprisoned for committing a crime.

Lochlan told Tessa that I only brought him on this journey with the intention of throwing him over the railing if I found a convenient moment. When she told me about it, I brushed off his words because it was so obviously untrue.

Until this moment, I didn’t fully consider that he

believed it.

The wind catches my hair and tugs at my jacket as we reach the top and step onto the deck. I expected

Blakemore, but there’s no one here. I glance over at Lochlan. “It really wasn’t an order,” I say to him.

He doesn’t look at me. “You’re the King’s Justice,” he says, as if that explains everything.

And maybe it does. I frown. “And I really didn’t invite you along with the intent to kill you.”

“That’s reassuring,” he says flatly.

I do have a limit. I round on him. “You took me prisoner and encouraged a mob to beat me to death, and then you took consuls and citizens hostage, killing them when you didn’t get your way. Yet Harristan still invited you and the rest of the rebels to negotiate—”

“You put me on a stage,” he says. “With a sack tied over my head, and a crossbow pointed at my back.”

I’ve changed my mind. Now I do want to throw him over the railing.

Not really.

But maybe a little.

“You resorted to violence and death when you had no other choice,” I say to him. “But somehow you mean to hold me to a different standard?”

“Yes,” he says. “Why?” I demand.

He scoffs and turns away.

I grab his sleeve and hold fast. “Tell me why.”

He jerks free, his hands in fists like he longs to throw a punch. “Because your brother is the king!” he snaps—but then he breaks off. His eyes flick to the guards, as if he’s worried they’re going to get physical if he says much more.

“Go ahead,” I say evenly. “Talk.”

He stands rigidly, his hands still clenched tightly, but he says nothing.

“They won’t hurt you if you remain civil,” I say.

He inhales a tight breath and takes a step back, then looks away, out at the sea. For a moment, I think that’s going to be it. The gulf between us is just too vast. He doesn’t trust me, and I don’t trust him, and no matter what we say in this moment, our past actions will overshadow every moment of our future.

It feels bleak and hopeless, and I want to sigh.

But then Lochlan speaks, his voice rough. “The king didn’t just invite me to sit at that table. He invited Consul Sallister, despite everything he did.” He pauses. “The Benefactors promised money and medicine. They knew we were desperate—and we believed they truly wanted to help. But in the end, they were no better than you were, Weston Lark. They had the power to make a difference, but instead, they just watched as the night patrol rounded up more of us for execution.”

I flinch. I can’t help it. My own voice is rough. “Lochlan.

That’s not why I was bringing medicine—”

“I know!” he snaps. “I know. You don’t think I know? You don’t think the people know? That night we held the sector, we laid down our weapons for Tessa. But it wasn’t just for Tessa.”

I stare at him.

“So we took a chance,” he says. “We trusted that this was an opportunity for real change.” He swears and looks away, but he must gather his mettle, because he takes a step closer to me. His voice is a low growl. “And then we had to sit across the table from a man who truly was a criminal, a man who faced no repercussions for his actions. None! Where’s the sack over Sallister’s head, Your Highness? Where’s the stage? Where’s the noose? Where’s the crossbow? And you want to know why I’m holding you to a different standard?”

Somewhere on this ship, Tessa is picking a lock while I’m supposed to be causing a distraction. But just now, I’m frozen in place, considering the implications of Lochlan’s words.

Because he’s right. About all of it.

Before I can say anything, motion flickers above me, and then Rian lands on the deck beside us.

Of course. I should’ve looked up.

I wonder how much he heard. His eyes are shadowed and tense, and I’m fairly certain he heard all of it.

I expect him to chastise me, or mock me, or to be openly critical of my brother’s rule, especially now that he has more ammunition.

His eyes meet mine, and a spark of his typical belligerence flares in his gaze, but this time, it’s a bit darker, a bit angrier. “All that, and you still managed to lure Tessa into your quarters.” He raises an eyebrow and gives me a once-over. “I trust you’re well rested, Your Highness?”

No. I’m not.

Which is probably why I stride forward and throw a punch.

It’s reckless and impolitic, and if we were only at odds over the appearance of ships, I never would’ve done it. But his comment is a barbed dig at Tessa, and I’ve reached a limit. The captain sees it coming in time to dodge a full strike, which is unfortunate, because it gives him an opening to drive a fist right into my midsection. It steals my breath, but I grab hold of his jacket, dragging him off- balance, then clip him in the jaw. I’m distantly aware of Lochlan swearing and getting out of the way, but this fight has been brewing for days, and it feels terrifyingly good to hit something. My hands still ache from the rope burns, but I don’t care. I strike and grapple until the ship sways and we begin to fall. I don’t even know which one of us goes

down first, but I feel the collision with the wood planks of the deck a moment before the guards start dragging us apart.

We’re both panting, but I feel a bit of grim satisfaction when I note that there’s blood on his lip.

That satisfaction goes away when I swallow and taste my own blood.

Kilbourne lets me go almost instantly, but Rocco keeps Rian’s arms pinned behind his back. The captain isn’t struggling, but he’s glaring at me. So is Lochlan.

I look at Rocco, who’s waiting for an order. I remember the moment we stood in the Hold and I told him to break Sallister’s arms.

I’m tempted to do the same to Captain Blakemore. It’s the worst part of myself. The part that Tessa hates. The part that Lochlan fears.

I think Rian knows. I’m not sure if he expects the guards to hold him down while I beat the piss out of him on the deck, or if he thinks Rocco will do it on my order, but either way, I can see the expectation in his eyes. He’s bracing himself.

“As I’ve said before,” I say roughly, “contempt doesn’t suit you. Any other clever remarks?”

“I’m sure I can come up with one or two.”

I take a step forward, but he doesn’t flinch. His eyes hold mine.

“Let him go,” I say to Rocco, but I keep my eyes on the captain. I touch a hand to my face, and it comes away with spots of blood. “He was just defending himself.”

Rocco obeys, and Rian blinks in surprise. To my right, Lochlan does the same.

The captain swipes the blood off his own lip. He regards me for a moment, and this time I brace myself for him to take up the fight again.

Instead, he says, “Those ships have drawn closer.”

It’s not what I expected him to say, but I cast my gaze to the horizon. He’s right. They’re much closer.

“If they’re here at my brother’s order,” I say, “I’ll have them take command of your ship, and you can cry all the way to Ostriary.”

“They’re within firing distance,” he continues. “If they’re not here at your brother’s order, I’m handing you over.”

“You’re alone on the deck,” I say. “I could have my guards kill you right now.”

We can all feel the nervous energy in the air. Rian fixes his gaze on me. “If you kill me, you can’t outrun two brigantines. They’ll sink the ship or take you by force.”

“Perhaps we’ll have to take our chances,” I say.

“We’re nearing the most dangerous part of the ocean,” he says. “Are you sure about that?”

I look at Rocco. “Advise.”

“He’s right about the brigantines. If they’re not here by King Harristan’s order, it’s a risk.”

“Can you continue sailing toward Ostriary?”

He hesitates. “I’ve never sailed past the southern point of Sunkeep. I can absolutely try, but I don’t know what to expect in the next leg of the journey.”

Rian’s eyes flare as he realizes the implication of this, and then he swears. “So you brought a sailor anyway.”

“I brought a guard with sailing experience,” I say.

“He won’t get through Chaos Isle. The current is too strong. There are rocks beneath the surface. If you don’t know where they are, the Dawn Chaser will be destroyed.”

“We’ll see about that,” I say. “What are your intentions if they don’t demand my capture?”

“To sail straight through Chaos Isle and hope we lose them.” He pauses, his gaze darkening. “You should let me

go while I’m still willing to maintain civility on my ship.”

I inhale to answer—but somewhere belowdecks, a woman screams.