Page 62

But Meliz beat her to it. Tears sprang to her eyes, and her battered hands shook as she wrapped Corayne in her arms. With a gasp, Corayne realized that her mother’s knees had given out. Her own eyes stung and she did her best to hold them both up. Corayne an-Amarat refused to fall, even here, with no one but her own mother to see. She looked at the ceiling, little more than stained canvas bowing in the wind. The tears almost won, but she blinked them away, heaving a deep, bracing breath.

She counted out ten long seconds. Ten only. Within them, she was Meliz’s daughter, a young girl safe in her mother’s arms. Nothing could harm her here, and Corayne let herself forget. No monsters. No Spindle. No Erida and Taristan. There was nothing but her mother’s warm, familiar embrace. She held on too tightly, but Meliz did the same, clutching her only child like a rock in a stormy sea. Corayne wished she could stay in those seconds forever, frozen in that single moment.I was drowning,she realized,sighing out another precious second.I was drowning and she is the surface. She is air.

But I must go down again. And I don’t know if I’ll ever come back up.

“Ten,” she murmured, helping her mother into a chair at the captain’s table.

Meliz wiped a hand over her tearstained face, her bronze cheeks ruddy with emotion.

“Well, that was shameful,” she said, smoothing her hair. “I’m sorry for such a display.”

“I’m not.”

Corayne watched as Meliz changed before her very eyes, shifting from mother back to captain. She leaned forward in her chair, legs bent, her black hair falling over one shoulder. Her gaze took on that hard glint again. A challenge rose in her throat.

“There’s more than one monster upon the Ward now, Mother,” Corayne said, cutting her off. “And I’m the only one who can stop them.”

The pirate scoffed, planting her elbows on her knees. “You’re a brilliant girl, Corayne, but—”

“I am the blood of Old Cor whether I like it or not, and I carry a Spindleblade with me.”

The buckles of the sword were second nature now, and she laid it across the table with a thunk. Meliz studied it with a skillful eye, accustomed to all kinds of treasure. The Spindleblade seemed to stare back, its purple and red jewels thrumming with Spindle magic. Corayne wondered if Meliz could feel it too.

“I am marked, Mother. I’m sure you know that by now.”

“Why do you think I came after you?” Meliz snapped. “I abandoned all the riches of Rhashir to get you out of whatever mess you’ve made.”

She reached into the sleeve of her shirt, pulling out a ratty piece of rolled parchment. She threw it to the floor. It was water-damaged and salt-stained, the ink running. But nothing could disguise Corayne’s own face looking up from the wanted poster. Her bounty and her many so-called crimes were scrawled at the bottom. It looked similar to the posters in Almasad, though this one was scribbled in Larsian alongside Paramount.

“Queen Erida casts a wide net,” Corayne said, tearing the poster in half. She wished she could do it to every scrawled drawing of her face all over the realm. “The mess isn’t mine. But I have to clean it up.”

Meliz narrowed her eyes. She had a new dusting of freckles over her bronze cheeks, born of long days at sea. “Why?”

Corayne’s nails dug into her palms, nearly drawing blood. “I wish I knew,” she sighed, focusing on the sharp bite in her flesh.

The pain anchored her and made it easier to recount the long days since Lemarta, since she stood on a dock and watched theTempestbornsail into the horizon. She spoke of Dom and Sorasa, an Elder and an Amhara assassin united in their quest to find her. She told Meliz of the massacre in the foothills, when Taristan loosed an army and Cortael fell. Corayne was not there, but she heard the story so many times it felt like half a memory. Then there was Ascal, Andry Trelland, her father’s sword. Erida’s betrayal and her new husband, Corayne’s uncle, who meant to rip the world apart. For himself. For the Queen. And for a hungry, hateful god—WhatWaits. When Corayne spoke of Adira, and her near brush with theTempestborn, Meliz dropped her gaze, staring at the floor with lifeless eyes.

Corayne could not remember the last time her mother kept silent and subdued. It was not in Meliz an-Amarat to listen, but somehow she did.

“The Heir gave us their ship, and we land on the Ahmsarian coast the day after tomorrow. From there we travel north, up the mountains to Trec, and then... the temple,” Corayne finished, swallowing hard. She wished for something to drink but dared not move. The entire realm relied upon this moment, a pirate captain and her child in a stuffy little cabin.

Finally, Meliz stood. Her hand hovered over the Spindleblade, hesitant. She looked at the sword like it was a snake coiled to strike.

Then she raised her eyes, meeting Corayne’s black stare.

“TheTempestbornis prepared for a long voyage,” Meliz said.

Corayne’s stomach dropped. This was Hell Mel speaking, not Meliz. Her tone was firm, unyielding.

The captain tightened her jaw. “There are pieces of the Ward even the Queen of Galland cannot reach.”

Corayne wanted another ten seconds of her mother’s love and protection. She wanted to say yes and fall back into a child’s life, safe at her mother’s side, sailing to the ends of the realm. Beyond the darkness spreading over the Ward, to new kingdoms and new horizons. Such a life was Corayne’s to take. She needed only relent.

Instead she stepped back. Every inch was a knife. Every lost second a drop of blood.

“With all my heart, I wish that were true,” Corayne whispered.A single tear won its war and rolled down her cheek. “But nothing is beyond the reach of What Waits.”

Meliz mirrored her, lunging for the cabin door. She fell flush against it, barring the way out.