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Corayne only pointed, her finger finding the distant ship. “Describe it to me.”

He blew out a shaky breath and fixed his stare far out to sea, his emerald gaze sharper than anyone else’s.

“I see a galley,” he said, and Corayne clenched a fist. “Purple sails. Two masts, a lower deck. Many more oars than we have.”

Even though the ship was still too far off to see properly, the ship took form in Corayne’s mind, drawn together from too many memories to count.

“How many oars?” she ground out. Her throat tightened, threatening to close.

“Forty rows,” Dom answered.

“What flag are they flying?” Her eyes fluttered shut. She tried to picture the Siscarian flag, a flaming golden torch on purple. But it would not hold in her mind’s eye.

The Elder shifted next to her. “I see no flag.”

Her eyes snapped open and Corayne pushed off the rail.

Noise roared in her ears, a buzzing to drown out her Companions even as they shouted after her. She felt Andry match her steps, with Dom behind him, both trailing her. But she didn’t turn, her boots hammering against the deck as she wove through the errant sailors, fighting her way to the forecastle at the rear of the galley. Oars slapped on either side of the ship, every splash a taunt.

The Ibalet captain saw her coming and abandoned his post, leaving his second on the raised forecastle. He met her at the bottom of the steps, dark brows furrowed.

“Put every man you have to the oars,” she barked. “Let’s see how fast this ship is.”

He blinked back at her, perplexed.Two days ago this man sailed for the Heir of Ibal, and now he sails for our ragged band of nobodies.Thankfully, he bowed his head.

“We can handle pirates,” he said, nodding back to his second. Orders carried down the deck, commanding every sailor to prepare for battle. Below deck, a drumbeat went up, setting a faster, more brutal pace for the oarsmen.

Corayne nearly bit her tongue.Not this pirate,she wanted to say.

A warm hand took her arm. Andry Trelland glanced down at her, his soft brown eyes looking over her face, noting every twitch and tightness. Corayne tried to mask her fear and frustration, and even her excitement. But there was nowhere to hide, on deck or in the waves.

“Corayne?” he said, his voice still distant, almost inaudible.

She clenched her teeth, bone grating bone.

“It’s my mother.”

Immediately, she wished she could call the words back and somehow make them untrue.

Instead Corayne looked back to the horizon, and the ship growing closer.

TheTempestborn.

“I’ve never seen her this way,” she murmured, half to herself. But Andry listened. “On the open sea, in the wind. A wolf on the hunt instead of returning to her den.”

The galley was a marvel, cutting through the water with ease. She seemed to be gaining speed, despite the many oars working beneath their own deck. TheTempestbornwould be on them soon, and no power upon the Ward could stop her.

“She’s beautiful,” Corayne whispered, meaning both the ship and the woman she couldn’t see, the captain upon her ferocious, hungry throne.

Sigil swaggered past, joining the flow of sailors down to the oar deck. She rolled up her sleeves, probably eager to show them all up.

“I don’t know what the problem is,” she called out. “Certainly your own mother can’t be worse than krakens and sea serpents.”

The sails above filled with wind, as if the Ward itself were pushing them onward. Corayne willed it to push harder, but deep down she knew better. She looked to theTempestbornonce more, now even closer.This race was lost before it even began.

She scowled.

“Clearly, you’ve never met her.”