I’m woken by shouts and screaming. I sit straight up in bed just as the boat shudders with the sound of an explosion.

We’re under attack again.

I’m barefoot, in nothing more than my chemise and trousers, but I sprint for the door and find Rocco in the hallway. I stitched up the knife wound on his abdomen hours ago, but his coloring is a bit ashen instead of the warm brown I’m used to, and I’m worried he’s lost too much blood.

Another explosion rocks the ship, and I put a hand against the wall to brace myself. We have bigger problems.

“Is there another brigantine?” I say. “We need to get above,” Rocco says.

I have to use hands and feet to climb the stairs because the water is so choppy. Rocco is right at my back. When we make it onto the deck, one of the smaller sails is on fire, red flames crawling along the edge to snake into the night sky. Brock is climbing the rigging with a bucket of water over one arm.

“Get that fire out!” Rian is shouting. “It’s giving them a target!”

Brock tosses the water at the fire, but it only douses half. While I watch, another flaming arrow comes sailing through the air. Rocco pushes me out of the way as it embeds itself in the deck, just where I was standing.

He swears, grabs the arrow shaft, and yanks it free to toss over the railing.

Another arrow flies through the air, aiming right for the sail.

Worse. It catches Brock right in the middle of his back. He jerks, his hands slipping from the rigging, and drops to the deck below to land, motionless. The bucket hits the deck and rolls away.

More shouts come from below—and I become distantly aware of shouts coming from somewhere to our left. The Dawn Chaser shudders as one of the cannons fires, and a moment later, I hear the cannonball connect with a ship somewhere across the water.

“Corrick,” I say to Rocco desperately. “Where’s Corrick?”

But the guard is looking up at the sail. Some of the fire was doused, but it’s smoldering at the edge. “That sail needs to come down. He’s right. It’s a target—but it’ll catch the others.”

And Brock was just shot down from climbing the rigging. Half the crew is missing or manning the cannons down below.

I remember Rian telling me about the rigging, about the fouled lines. I climbed the mast once. I can do it again.

“Give me your dagger,” I say. “I’ll cut it down.” “Miss Tessa—”

Another flaming arrow lands on the deck. Rian spots me and calls, “Tessa! You need to get below.”

Rocco grabs this arrow and throws it into the water after the other.

I have half a mind to grab his dagger myself, but then Corrick is there beside me, wind whipping at his hair. “Tessa,” he says. “Tessa, you need to get below.”

I point. “The sail—the sail needs to come down—”

“I know. I’ll go.” He takes my face in his hands and kisses me. Then he looks to Rocco. “Get her below.”

“Corrick!” I shout, but he’s already moved away. Just like the night of the competition, his hands hook in the rigging, and suddenly, he’s ten feet off the deck.

Beside that flaming sail, he’s an easy target, just like Brock was. My breath catches in my throat.

There’s no way I’m letting Rocco take me below. He doesn’t even try.

Another arrow comes sailing onto the ship, but this time it aims for Rian. He lets go of the wheel and dives out of the way. The flaming shaft drives into the deck at his feet, but he pulls it free and tosses it over the railing like Rocco did.

He sees me and points at Corrick. “Hold the beam!” he shouts at me. “When he cuts that loose, it’ll swing.”

Hold the beam. I stare at the complicated maze of sails and ropes and rigging in the darkness.

“This one,” Rocco says, tugging me toward one of the beams. He’s a bit breathless, and I’m reminded that he probably shouldn’t be on the deck either. Sparks rain down around us, but I grab hold of the stretch of wood and grip tight, digging my feet into the deck.

“I told you to get her below,” Corrick shouts down.

Rocco ignores him. “There, Miss Tessa. Put your feet against the mast.”

Corrick must begin sawing at the ropes, because I feel the instant there’s a bit of give in the beam. It jerks hard and nearly gets me off my feet. I whimper from the strain.

Rocco is stronger, by far, but his face has gone pale, his brown fingers white where they grip the wood.

Then, without warning, the beam stabilizes. I blink and look up.

Lochlan has a tight hold on the wood beside me. “Watch yourself,” he says. “We don’t want it to come down on top of us.”

The warning is a moment too late, because suddenly canvas and ropes are falling. A hand grabs me around the waist and pulls me out of the way just as the beam swings wildly, knocking me in the shoulder.

Then I’m free, sprawled on the deck, a male arm around my waist. I look over, expecting Rocco.

Instead, it’s Lochlan. His face is close, full of sweat and bruises, but his eyes lock on mine.

“Are you all right?” he says, and I’m so stunned that all I can do is nod.

I get to my knees just as Corrick drops back to the deck. It’s been a few minutes since I’ve seen any flaming arrows, and I think maybe it’s a good sign, until someone from down below shouts, “They’re readying cannons.”

“Who is it?” I gasp.

“Oren Crane,” Lochlan says, as if that explains everything. He lets me go, then moves toward Corrick. He’s pointing across the water. “Watch for cannon fire. We won’t see the ball in the dark.”

The Dawn Chaser bucks and shudders, and an explosion rocks below. We’ve fired.

A moment later, I hear the impact. The shouts from out on the water seem to indicate we’ve made a direct hit. The sudden cheering down below confirms it.

“We just need to get past them!” Rian calls down. “They can’t follow now!”

I look across at Corrick, who’s with Lochlan near the railing. His eyes meet mine, and I take a deep breath for the first time in what seems like hours.

Then a loud crack echoes across the water, and I see the blast of fire that lights up enough of the other ship that I can see that it is, in fact, sinking.

I remember Lochlan’s words.

We won’t see the ball in the dark.

The Dawn Chaser takes the impact. Wood explodes everywhere, and I’m knocked off my feet. This time Rocco catches me, pulling me down to the deck, covering me with his body as bits of wood and steel rain down. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. My heart is a wild roar in my ears, those sails snapping overhead, chains rattling.

It takes a second. A minute. An hour. An eternity. Eventually Rocco eases off me, and we sit up on the deck in the moonlight. I smell burned wood and smoldering sailcloth.

In front of me, there’s a ten-foot gap in the deck. The entire railing is missing, and I can see clear through to the deck below. I’m looking into the guards’ quarters.

My heart stops.

“Corrick,” I whisper. The word is barely out of my mouth before I’m screaming it. “Corrick! Corrick! Corrick!” I stumble toward the railing, staring into the blackness of the water. I can’t stop screaming his name, even when my voice turns harsh and ragged. He’s in the water. I need to go after him.

Arms close around me from behind. “Miss Tessa. Miss Tessa. We’re going too fast. He’s not down there.”

I remember the cannonball driving Marchon straight through the deck.

I imagine that happening to Corrick. I imagine him drowning.

I choke on a sob, then fight Rocco’s grip. “Corrick!” I scream. “Rian! Turn back! Turn back! You have to turn back!”

But he doesn’t turn back. Rocco doesn’t let go.

Corrick is gone.