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Ayan rolls his eyes. “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry about an obstacle we haven’t even happened upon yet.”

It’s my fault he’s here. When Henrik finds out—no, I don’t even want to think about it.

Ayan jerks his head directly in front of us. “Before you get yourself worked up about Revalane, we have to deal withthat.”

Reluctantly, I follow his eyes. A community of shacks sits up ahead, hovering above the marshy bog on stilts. A long, rickety pier extends into the water, and two elves already wait for Captain Caldwell. They likely heard the ship’s propulsion apparatus before we even left the sea to enter the swamp.

The taller one wears his blond hair pulled back in a tail at the nape of his neck, and he sports a short, scruffy beard that could use a trim. As we get closer, his eyes sharpen on the three of us standing near the rail. He says something to the man next to him, turning away so I can’t even try to make out the words.

The second man then hurries off, likely following whatever order he was given.

As the ship slows, the criminal turns his eyes my way. He assesses me with a grim expression I cannot read. Just when I’m about to look away, a smile crosses his face, and he bows as if greeting me.

Even though the air is sun-warmed and sticky, goosebumps skim across my arms.

Ayan casually turns around, putting his back to the rail. “As your unofficial guide, I suggest you avoid that man.”

“Don’t worry—I intend to.”

“Ready to pretend you’re a criminal?” he asks with a grin.

“I’ll just follow your lead,” I say. “I’m sure you’ve had all kinds of experience.”

16

Henrik

I knew betterthan to trust the captain. Docking at a criminal port was a bad idea at best—we’ve landed ourselves in a den of thieves. Even calling this a port is laughable.

“The water is deep here,” Caldwell says as he steers us toward the small swamp village. “I can drop anchor next to the pier and let down the gangplank.”

I nod brusquely, assessing the situation. Several men have already gathered, possibly to welcome the captain, but I doubt it. Their eyes are upon his passengers.

“What’s this place called?” I ask.

“It doesn’t have an official name—you won’t find it on a map. We just refer to it as Swamp Port.”

“Charming,” Pranmore says, wrinkling his nose at the questionable community. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay on the ship until we’re ready to move on.”

I tell Pranmore that’s fine, and then I leave Caldwell and make my way down the deck to Clover and Bartholomew. Our idiot High Vale guide is with them as well, but I’m not terribly concerned about him causing trouble. Considering what I know of Ayan, I imagine he’ll be right at home here.

“We’re not going to linger in the community,” I say once I reach them, keeping my voice low. “I don’t trust Caldwell’s associates.”

Bartholomew nods sagely.

Clover glances at the sun, which is already dropping behind the thick swamp trees. “It’s going to be dark soon.”

“Is there another village near here?” Bartholomew asks.

“I’m not sure where here is,” I admit.

“We can’t take off into the swamp at dusk,” Clover says as she glances at the men loitering just off the pier. “Though I’m not sure we’ll be much safer here.”

“I’m going to go down with Caldwell and speak with the men,” I say.

“I’ll stay with Lady Clover,” Bartholomew offers. “Henrik, shall I fetch the packs as well?”

“Not yet. Pranmore is going to remain on the ship until we leave. It’s hard to say how these men will behave.” I survey the growing crowd, uneasy.