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Dom heaved a breath. “I was that way once.”

The shadow of a smile crossed Meliz’s face as she followed his gaze. “Love does that.”

His throat tightened and his jaw clenched, teeth gritted so tightly Dom could not speak if he tried.

Meliz only gave a wave of her hand. “I’m referring to my daughter, and the love you bear her.” Her grin widened mischievously. “Of course.”

“Of course,” Dom managed, wrenching his eyes from the port. His entire body felt hot with embarrassment, if not indignance.

Satisfied, Meliz folded her arms across her chest, taking in the sight of so many ships as a general would survey his troops. TheTempestbornloomed among them, purple-sailed and magnificent, as fearsome a ship as to ever roam the seas. Her eyes narrowed, studying the galley.

“I wonder how many horses my ship can hold,” she mused.

Once more, Dom wished his gods could hear him in this realm. If they could, he would have prayed, asking for Meliz’s safety, and swift winds.

“I hope I live to find out,” he answered before setting off to board yet another wretched ship.

30

The Torture of Hope

Sorasa

Pain lanced through her head. It felt like an ax splitting her skull over and over again, thumping in time with the beat of her heart. Sorasa hissed against the agony, trying to think. Her Amhara instincts flared and she forced herself to breathe evenly despite the tightness of her chest. It helped a little, grounding her. She blinked, nearly blinded by the white light around her. Hissing again, she wriggled her toes in her boots. To her relief, they responded. And theysquelched, her boots filled with water. Her hands curled, something soft and cool sifting between her fingers.Sand,she knew instantly. No matter what, Sorasa Sarn would always recognize the feel of sand.

The world came into focus slowly, the brightness fading little by little. Gingerly, she rolled off her front and onto her back, to stare up at a vivid blue sky. She tasted salt and smelled ocean. It did not take a scholar to piece such a puzzle.

The beach ran along in either direction, turning rocky above the shore, riddled with white stones that rose into murderous cliffs.

Fear threatened to swallow her up. It clawed at her inside, a beastwith too many teeth.Do not let it rule, she told herself, repeating the old Amhara teaching.Do not let it rule. Do not let it rule.

She refused to think beyond the world in front of her. Refused to let her mind spiral with hideous possibility. It was a hole she would never dig out of.

With a snarl of pain, she forced herself to sit up, her head spinning with the sudden movement. One hand touched her temple, sticky with dried blood. She winced, feeling a gash along her eyebrow. It was long but shallow, and already scabbing over.

She clenched her jaw, teeth grinding, as she surveyed the beach with squinting eyes. The ocean stared back at her, empty and endless, a wall of iron blue. Then she noticed shapes along the beach, some half-buried in the sand, others caught in the rhythmic pull of the tide. She narrowed her eyes and the shapes solidified.

A torn length of sail floated, tangled up with rope. A shattered piece of the mast angled out of the sand like a pike. Smashed crates littered the beach, along with other debris from the ship. Bits of hull. Rigging. Oars snapped in half.

The bodies moved with the waves.

Her steady breathing lost its rhythm, coming in shorter and shorter gasps until she feared her throat might close.

Her thoughts scattered, impossible to grasp.

All thoughts but one.

“DOMACRIDHAN!”

Her shout echoed, desperate and ragged.

“DOMACRIDHAN!”

Only the waves answered, crashing endless against the shore.

She forgot her training and forced herself to stand, nearly falling overwith dizziness. Her limbs ached but she ignored it, lunging toward the waterline. Her lips moved, her voice shouting his name again, though she couldn’t hear it above the pummel of her own heart.

Sorasa Sarn was no stranger to corpses. She splashed into the waves with abandon, even as her head spun.