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“Miss Cade,” calls a male voice, but it’s faint in the wind, and I turn.

“Up here,” he calls again, and I look straight up, at the miles of ropes and broadcloth that make up the rigging and sails. For an instant, the sway of the ship makes it dizzying, and I put a hand out for the mast, but then I see him. Captain Blakemore, at least thirty feet above me, one foot on a stretch of rope, the other braced against the main mast.

“Good morning, Captain,” I yell up to him.

The sky is still too dim for me to see much, but I catch the sudden gleam of his smile. “The rigging’s just a bit fouled,” he calls, tugging at the ropes. “I’ll be down in a moment. There’s coffee in my stateroom if you’d like some. Don’t mind the mess.”

Coffee.It’s very rare and ridiculously expensive in Kandala, because the plants only grow well in the southern parts of Sunkeep. It’s the least populous sector, leaving few people to work the fields. Most harvesters and field hands find better money in Emberridge and Moonlight Plains anyway, where the Moonflower grows. I don’t know anyone outside the palace who’s eventriedit. I once asked Corrick, and he made a face and said it tastes like a hot mouthful of dirt. They don’t serve it in the palace unless someone requests it.

But here it is on a sailing ship, being offered as easily as a glass of water. That’s almost as shocking as the casual way the captain told me to help myself to his stateroom. It’s so different fromCorrick, who reveals so little that every admission feels like I’ve stolen something. I’m so intrigued by this unexpected trust that I weave across the swaying ship to make my way toward the doors at the back of the deck. There are three, and I hesitate for one second before Captain Blakemore calls, “Starboard side.” That doesn’t make things better, but he quickly adds, “The one to your left.” I turn the knob.

His stateroom is larger than I expected. A massive round table sits in the center of the room, with books and maps spread everywhere: navigational maps and country maps and river maps and star maps. Some are pinned down, while others are held in place by books and ledgers. On the one windowless wall is a massive clock, its ticking loud in the enclosed space. Below that are three long swords, sheathed and held in place by small wooden pegs, followed by two spears, bolted similarly. A few more pegs sit empty, but fading on the wall tells me that weapons areusuallythere. I wonder where they are.

A small coal stove sits in the corner, filling the room with warmth, and there’s a cast-iron pot situated in a little slot on top. Windows fill the three other walls, so I can look out behind the ship, then off to the west—starboard, I remind myself—and then out across the main deck. Wind whistles through the window hinges, rattling the door a bit. I don’t want to touch the coffee, or anything else for that matter, but I let my eyes linger on the maps.

I’ve never seen a detailed map for a country other than my own, and here in front of me is a map that shows Kandala and the islands of Ostriary—along with two more land masses set farther to the north and west. My eyes are wide as I trace the borders of the islands, each much larger than I assumed, stretching westward,all connected by the bridges Captain Blakemore mentioned. All together, the land mass is almost as large as Kandala. I wonder if Corrick has seen this.

I consider the way I left his quarters last night, to say nothing of the way he never came after me, and I rather doubt I’m going to have the chance to ask him anytime soon.

Motion on the deck catches my eye, and I glance up to see the captain climbing down the rigging, quick and sure on the ropes as the ship tips from side to side. He’s still ten feet above the deck when he springs to the boards like we’re on solid ground. His dark hair is windblown, his cheeks a bit flushed from the cool morning air. His jacket is loose, revealing a maroon shirt that’s unbuttoned at his neck, leaving his sun-kissed collarbones bare. A short blade hangs belted at his waist, with a longer one buckled to his thigh. I don’t think I’ve seen him wear a weapon before.

Then he’s at the door and his eyes meet mine, and I realize I was staring.

I’m no stranger to the mouth of a sailor.

The words pop back into my thoughts, and I feel myself redden. As the captain pulls the latch and comes across the threshold, I snap my gaze back to the maps.

“I’ve never seen a full map of Ostriary,” I say. I have to clear my throat. I’m probably talking too fast. “When you mentioned the islands, I didn’t realize they’d be so big.”

“Much like the sectors of Kandala, they’re all different in their own way.” He steps up beside me, smelling of sea, wind, and sunshine. He points, naming each, and I remember the way he related them to his palm and fingertips: Fairde, the largest in the center, followed by Iris, Kaisa, Roshan, Estar, and Silvesse. His finger settleson Kaisa. “Here is where the Moonflower grows. It’s the northernmost island, and one of the most populated. Two bridges to Fairde, though both were destroyed in the war.”

“Is that the capital city?”

“Fairde is, yes.” He points to the southeastern shoreline. “There was a citadel here: Tarrumor. The royal residence was once called the Palace of the Sun, because the center courtyard was paved with gold, every window made of stained glass in reds and yellows. Quite spectacular, really.”

“What is it called now?”

“Nothing.” He hesitates, and his voice takes on that hollow note. “The palace still stands, but much of the citadel is in ruins. Without the bridges, it’s difficult to rebuild swiftly.”

I put a hand over his. I know he wasn’t born in Ostriary, but as he said to Corrick, he spent a quarter of his life there. He lost his father there. And that was during a time the country was being torn apart by war. “I’m sorry,” I say softly.

He glances up in surprise, and I withdraw my hand.

“I didn’t mean to be so forward,” I say.

“You’re not being forward. You’re being kind.” He studies me a little too intently, so I swallow and look back at the map.

He follows my lead, and his finger shifts to the southern space of ocean between the countries. “The winds here can be very strong, easily fifty knots on a calm day, and the currents coming from Silvesse Run—which you know as the Flaming River—flow fast into the ocean. It’s the toughest part to navigate, especially compared to what you’ll discover once we come out of the Queen’s River. Off the southern point of Sunkeep, the water is so clear and smooth that you could swim alongside the ship for miles. But here—” He pointsto a spot in the ocean where there’s a small square drawn on the map. “This is the hardest part. On Kandalan maps, it’s Bedlam’s Berth. In Ostriary, it’s Chaos Isle. The winds can be intense, and storms come up quick. The water gets shallow unexpectedly, so you can find yourself on a sandbar if you’re not careful. Between the wind and the currents, this is where many ships turn back—or wreck.”

“And you have no trouble?”

“I won’t say it’s not a challenge.” He shrugs, but there’s no arrogance to it. “Calm seas don’t make sharp sailors, Miss Cade. I’ve done it before. I can manage it again.”

I just watched him climb a thirty-foot mast in the wind when the sun had barely crested the horizon, so I believe him. “You really can just call me Tessa,” I say.

The side of his mouth turns up. Half a smile, but half not. “If I did that, I’m worried Prince Corrick might try to put a knife in my back.”

Mention of Corrick makes my temper sit up and pay attention. “He’d better not,” I say hotly. “He’s not in charge of my name, Captain Blakemore.”