Noise is everywhere at once, the crew shouting, people screaming, cannons booming. I watched Marchon get driven through the deck, torn apart by splintering wood, and the scent of blood and smoke in the air churns my stomach. It’s the most horrific thing I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying something.

“Rian!” I shout. “Rian, cut us loose!” He doesn’t answer. No one answers. “Tessa!” I call.

Nothing. So many people are shouting conflicting orders that I can’t hear my own thoughts. All the while, Bella is laughing hysterically. The ship dips and sways, water splashing over the edge.

I swear I see one of the crewmen go over the railing. Maybe these bindings aren’t bad after all.

But then I see Lochlan come up from below, crawling along the deck. The ship is rocking so forcefully that he can’t stay on his feet. Another cannonball comes screaming through the air, and men cry out—but this one smashes through the railing to land in the water below.

Lochlan keeps crawling across the deck. His jaw is tight, his face a mask of determination. His eyes look up and

meet mine.

And then I realize he has a dagger in one hand.

My chest clenches tight. I’m lashed to the mast. A sitting duck.

I hold my breath. The ship pitches wildly in the current, but he stays low to the deck and keeps crawling.

“Rocco,” I say. “Thank you for your service.”

He looks over sharply, then follows my gaze to look at Lochlan, who’s gained ground.

Another cannonball flies overhead, and for an instant, the shouting crew goes silent. Then it soars between the masts, narrowly missing the sails.

“Tessa,” I shout, but there’s no answer again. I have no idea whether she can hear me. I yell anyway. “I love you.”

Lochlan has reached me, and he grabs hold of my shirt, dragging himself to his knees. The wind whips his hair around his face, and light glints on that dagger.

The entire ship is probably going to sink, but my life is going to end right here. I can see the hatred in his eyes.

But then he says, “Oh, stop being so dramatic,” just before he jerks me forward and cuts my bindings.

Together, Lochlan and I begin to cut the others free, with the exception of Bella. She’s just too much of a wild card, and I know she’d rather see the ship sink. But there’s something more dangerous about being untied with the ship this violent. I can’t keep my feet, so I have to crawl like Lochlan did. When I get to Tessa, my heart nearly stops when I see blood on her temple—but she’s breathing and dazed. Alive.

She grips tightly to my neck the instant her hands are free, and it reminds me of another night when I freed her of

bindings and she grabbed me so desperately. Then, she wanted me to make everything all right. I couldn’t.

I can’t now either.

“They’re attacking,” she says. “We’re going to sink.”

“I’m hoping Rian is a better sailor than he is a king,” I say, just as another cannonball tears through one of the sails and screams erupt from somewhere. Another blast sounds, and the ship shudders, and for an instant, I think she’s right: we’re about to be ripped apart.

But then I see a brief explosion on the closer brigantine.

The Dawn Chaser has returned fire.

“Come on,” I say to Tessa. “We’re too exposed. Rocco!”

I struggle across the deck to get her into Rian’s stateroom, where maps and markers are scattered across the floor from the battle.

I unwind Tessa’s arms from around my neck. “Stay here,” I say to her, just as Rocco makes it to the doorway. He’s so pale, one hand clutching at his waist. “Help Rocco.” She opens her mouth to protest, and I add, “This time,

wait.”

Then I slam the door and try to determine where I can do more to help.

That ship keeps firing. So does this one. Many of the crew have gone below, but there are two men moving sails. I don’t see Gwyn or Sablo anywhere. There’s a part of me that’s hoping Rian was the one who went overboard, but I see him at the stern, gripping tight to the wheel.

“Tell me what to do!” I shout at him from the steps.

I expect him to tell me to jump overboard, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t care who helps as long as his ship is at risk. “Take hold,” he says. “Keep it straight. I need to help them.”

I take hold.

It’s like grabbing on to a bucking horse.

Rian grabs the wheel again before it can spin too much. “You have to keep it straight!” he snaps. “If you can’t do it, get off the helm.”

“I’ve got it,” I say, breathless, digging in my feet.

He points directly ahead. “Nothing else matters if you can keep it straight. The current will fight you. This is where other Kandalan ships have wrecked. This is where they’ll wreck, if we’re lucky.”

“Who? The brigantines?”

But he’s gone, moving down to the main deck. Rian seems to have no trouble staying on his feet, and it seems almost preternatural when the ship tilts and sways. By some miracle, we haven’t started to sink—and it’s been a while since a cannon has fired.

Below me, Rian is shouting orders to the few men on deck, but I don’t know what he’s saying. They immediately move to opposite masts, unhooking chains and untying rigging. The ocean surges over and over again, water flowing over the sides. I grip tight to the wheel, not sure if I’m doing any good at all, but I do my best to dig my feet into the wet deck.

I take a chance and look up past the churning ocean to see the brigantines, and they’re farther away than I expected, but they’re rocking in the tumultuous sea just like we are. Somehow we’re gaining ground.

And then, while I watch, one of the ships seems to shudder. All at once, it begins to break apart.

Then the other.

Within minutes, both ships are in pieces in the ocean, and we’re sailing farther away.

I stare in shock.

But we’re still rocking hard, water everywhere, the wind so fierce it’s a never-ending scream in my ears. I feel a jolt in the wheel, and it almost steals my grip. The world seems

to turn upside down, and the Dawn Chaser shudders just like those brigantines.

Somewhere over the wind, Rian shouts, “Hold that wheel!”

So I do. Water comes from all directions, and my hands are slick, my feet skidding on the deck. My teeth clench so hard that I taste blood.

Just when I’m worried I’m never going to be strong enough to keep a grip, Rian appears. His hair is soaked from the constant surge of seawater, the wind making it difficult for even him to walk.

“I usually have Sablo,” he shouts. “We’ll have to do it together.”

I shift a bit sideways, to give him room. He reaches to grab hold just as a swell strikes the boat, tipping us dangerously sideways. The wind grabs him, and I see the panic in his eyes as his feet leave the deck. He’s going to go over.

I reach out and snatch the edge of his jacket. For a terrifying moment, I don’t think it’ll be enough, that he’ll rip free of my fingers and that will be the end of him.

But the ship rights itself and he slams into me.

“I told you to hold the wheel!” he snaps, right in my ear. “You’re so very welcome,” I snap back.

But then the wheel tries to wrench free of my grip, and we both grab hold, side by side, riding out the stormy sea together.