Page 56

“We may not see eye to eye, but the goddess sees us both,” Isadere said, taking on the grave air of a prophet again. “She is with you, whether you feel it or not.”

Corayne braced for Charlie’s reply. To her surprise, he touched his brow and kissed his ink-stained fingers. A salute to the gods. Isadere matched it.

“On that we can agree,” Charlie said before tromping off to the boat. His saddlebags dangled from one shoulder, his many parchments, wax seals, and bottles of ink poking out.

What they would need on the road ahead, Corayne did not know yet. But she was eager to find out.

Once the horses were on board and settled below, thanks in large part to Sigil’s gentle coaxing, the galley left the coast behind, heading north. The oar deck held twenty-five rows split down the middle, with two rowers on each side, and they made good time into the Long Sea. Corayne stood at the rail, breathing deep of the sea air again. It fortified her somehow.

Sailor-soldiers crewed the Heir’s galley. Many were trained archers, taking turns defending the raised forecastle at the rear of the deck. They waited for the monsters of Meer, for krakens andsea serpents, but the Long Sea stretched blue and empty in every direction. No enemies, at least not any Corayne could see.

But she certainly still felt them. Erida and her army marching through Madrence, gaining mile after mile. Her uncle Taristan growing stronger by the second, hunting for Spindles to tear apart.How long until he tears too many?

Every passing moment could be the last,Corayne knew, though she tried not to dwell on it. Such a burden was too much for her to bear on top of everything else. She flagged against the ship railing, content to stay still, glad for the moment of quiet. Behind her, stacked crates hid her from most of the deck, and most of its occupants.

But for one.

“How long until we make port again?”

Corayne smiled as Andry rounded the crates. He leaned up alongside her, his elbows on the rail, his long brown fingers knitted together. The sea breeze played in his hair, rustling the heavy coils.

“Your hair’s getting longer,” Corayne said, remembering what he looked like when she first saw him. A young man at the door to his mother’s apartments, his eyes kind and welcoming, ready to help the unknown girl before him. But there had been a darkness to him even then, the memory of a massacre tearing at his insides. It clung to him now. She hoped it would not last.

The squire ran a hand over his scalp with a sheepish smile. A few tight curls spiraled against his fingers, growing more defined by the day. “I’ve been a bit busy for haircuts.”

“Shocking,” she answered with a dry laugh.

His eyes flickered over the waves, searching the depths. She saw unease in him.

“I’m beginning to suspect you don’t like sailing,” Corayne said, shifting to face him. Her hip bumped the rail.

“Not when there could be krakens and serpents under every wave.”

“Well, there’s one less than when we crossed. That’s something.”

“That’s something,” he echoed, his eyes distant. “I’m beginning to suspect you’re hiding.”

Corayne glanced at the stacked crates around them and shrugged.

“If Sigil and Sorasa see me idle, they’ll make me train,” she muttered. A wave of exhaustion broke over her at even the thought of more fighting lessons. “I just wanted a moment to myself. Give the bruises a little more time to heal.”

Andry nodded, his grin still fixed, but it no longer reached his eyes. “Of course, I’ll take my leave.”

“No, don’t you run off.” She caught his arm before he was out of reach, pulling him back to the rail. His smile widened, and so did Corayne’s. “You’re too polite for your own good, Andry Trelland,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Remember, you’re running with criminals and castoffs now.”

“I’ve been aware of that for some time.”

His eyes hardened and found the sea, looking not to the waves, but to the horizon beyond it.East,Corayne knew, tracking his gaze.To his mother? To Kasa, her homeland, where she waits for a son she might never see again?She remembered Valeri Trelland, ill but resolute, a pillar of strength in her wheeled chair.Or does he look to Ascal, where he left his honor in the shattered hall of Erida’s palace?

“You should let your bruises heal too,” Corayne said in a low voice, hesitant.

He sucked in a harsh gasp. “There’s a difference between healing and forgetting, Corayne. I will never forget what I’ve done.”

The words stung. “And you think I will?”

“I think you’re trying to move forward in any way you can, but—”

“But?”