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The assassin’s brow furrowed, a pounding headache joining the many pains she already ignored.

“Is that not dangerous? Lecorra and the rest of Siscaria are loyal to the Queen.”

A grin split Meliz’s tanned face and she gave a shrug.

“Cowards though they are, Lecorra still honors good coin and bad paperwork.” The captain reached inside her shirt, drawing out a folded leather envelope, papers stuffed within. “That priest of yours is the reason I was able to infiltrate so many harbors with a single ship.”

Sorasa’s eyes caught on the parchment, studying the snatches of ink and writing. She remembered them too, drawn up hastily on the deck of another ship, the seals and letters of mark created by a master’s hand.

A master forger.

“Is he dead too?” Meliz said softly.

Charlie. Andry. Valtik.

Corayne.

Sorasa’s heart bled again.

“I don’t know.”

To her relief, Meliz looked out to sea, shading her eyes against the flashes of sunlight reflecting off the waves. Again, Sorasa turned into her hair, giving herself a moment to recover, even as her throat threatened to close.

The pirate captain did not speak for a long moment, lost in her own thoughts, whatever they were. She leaned forward, out over the water, catching the cold spray. It seemed to soothe her.

“I tried to protect my daughter as best I could,” Meliz whispered, so low Sorasa almost missed the words. “Tried to make her happy where she was.”

“It is not in Corayne to stay in one place,” she replied without thought. Then she winced. It was wrong to tell a mother what her daughter was, what her daughter had become.

But Meliz did not look angry, or even sad. Her eyes were dark mahogany, molten, as if lit from within. They churned like the sea below.

“Thank you,” she bit out.

Sorasa remained blank, her face unmoving, even as her mind puzzled.

“You were a mother to her where I could not be,” Meliz explained. Her eyes flickered over her shoulder, across the deck to the immortal boulder. “And I suppose he was a father too.”

“Keeping Corayne alive keeps me alive,” Sorasa shot back, bristling. “Nothing more.”

That amused Meliz more than anything, and she smiled again, half laughing. It was a musical sound but laced with something darker. In that moment, Sorasa understood how a woman came to rule the pirates of the Long Sea.

“They taught you many things in your guild, Amhara. But they never taught you how to love,” Meliz said, her eyes flickering again. “It’s a lesson you’re still learning, I see.”

Swiftly, Sorasa pushed off the rail, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“To Lecorra,” she forced out, turning away.

“To Lecorra,” the captain echoed behind her.

The farther they sailed from Ascal, the clearer the sky became, until the heavens opened to a sharp, endless blue and a soft yellow sun. Sorasa basked in it, expelling a heavy breath as she felt some tension loosen from her shoulders. But not all. Taristan’s influence was behind them, but not the danger.

As Meliz promised, they met no opposition at the Lecorra harbor, though port officers searched the ship and combed through the captain’s passage papers. Sorasa and Dom lay quietly beneath the false boards of the lower deck, counting the seconds until the officers were gone, and theTempestbornsafely into port.

Dom remained on the ship. There was no disguising a six-and-a-half-foot Elder, especially one who refused to change anything about his appearance.

Sorasa was less fettered. Her shadowed face was still on the wanted posters, but she knew how to evade a manhunt, having done so too many times to count. And while Lecorra was less than half the size of Ascal, she was still a massive city. Sorasa slipped out easily, leaving Dom to prowl theTempestborn.

She kept to the less desirous sectors of the ancient city, all of them well known to her. Nothing in Lecorra had changed, but for the green flags of Galland waving above the Siscarian banners, to illustrate their new conqueror and queen. Sorasa listened for news, from a dark tavern corner or tucked away in an alley. And she steadily procured wares for their journey, wherever it may lead.