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“Like you haven’t been to bed despite the late hour.”

“I was writing poetry,” I say sweetly. “Pranmore has been such an inspiration.”

Lawrence grins at my blatant lie. “Need a muse?”

“You’re not handling this rescue mission well,” I say with a laugh. “At this rate, you’ll be falling for the first High Vale woman we come across.”

“Can I let you in on a secret?” He leans close. “I don’t generally involve myself with women who can wield fire.”

Grinning, I shove him away from the door. “A wise decision.”

“Don’t open your door without checking to see who’s on the other side first,” he calls quietly as he walks away.

Feeling slightly uneasy even though I’m certain it was only Henrik and me that Lawrence heard, I set the lock and turn toward my bed, determined to get some sleep before morning.

I’m nearly drifting when the faint sound of footsteps catches my attention. I sit up, wondering if Henrik changed his mind.

But the sound fades, and the night goes quiet. The ship rocks in the rhythm of the sea, gentle and calm, and I tell myself I was only hearing things.

* * *

“There’s morethan one port in Ferradelle,” Captain Caldwell says cryptically.

“I’ve never heard of a second,” Lawrence answers.

The prince leans against a weathered barrel, looking perfectly at ease away from the castle. He’s pulled his long hair into a knot at the back of his head. The sun brings out the red undertones, making it look more fiery than blond—fitting his title of Phoenix Prince, as some call him.

Lawrence seems less royal out here—not as bored, maybe even happier. Whatever it is, it looks good on him.

Glancing over, he catches me studying him and raises a questioning brow. I only smile, shaking my head as I look back at the captain.

“One is more exclusive than the other,” Caldwell answers, still speaking of his mysterious port.

“Exclusive?” Bartholomew asks. “How could there be a place too exclusive for the royal family to know of its existence?”

“You’re thinking the wrong crowd, boy.”

The young man visibly bristles, taking offense at the mention of his age.

“This is a different kind of exclusivity.” As if he thinks he must explain further, Caldwell looks at me and adds dramatically in a lowered voice, “One earned in the shadows.”

“I gathered that, pirate.”

A smile spreads across his scruffy face, and he leers at me in a way that’s too awkward to be alarming. “I’ve heard women find pirates dashing.”

“Not all women,” Ayan says, ambling over to join the conversation. “Lady Clover prefers respectable men.”

“Some might even say uptight,” Lawrence adds with a smirk directed toward Henrik.

The commander sits nearby, staring across the water, pretending he’s not listening. But I can tell from the unamused press of his lips that he is.

“Rigid,” Ayan says with a grin.

“Dull.”

“Dry.”

“Dreary?” Lawrence questions.