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“How would you know?” The sudden sharpness of his voice took her by surprise. Even in the palace, running for his life, he’d been gentle. But then, she barely knew him. It was only last night they had met.It feels like a lifetime already.

“I know what it is to think of a ship and wish,” she murmured, her heart clenching.

Andry Trelland’s eyes melted like butter in a pan. Corayne looked away quickly and fiddled with the belts of the Spindle­blade, adjusting it on her back for something to do. Her cheeks felt hot.

“Used to be my job,” she added, her voice rough.

Andry bit his lip. “That’s what Sorasa meant, when she said you knew ships.”

“I know some. One more than the rest.” TheTempestbornrose up before her, its familiar purple sails and painted hull, a captain with black hair and laughing eyes at the prow. The admission tumbled out, beyond her control. “My mother is a pirate.”

She lowered her face, not wanting to see any more judgment or discomfort from Andry Trelland. He’d been through enough already.Not to mention he’s a squire, raised to be an honorable knight. His mother is a lady, nobleborn, beautiful, intelligent, and far kinder than any parent I’ve ever known.

“That sounds... exciting,” he said, taking great care with his choice of words.

“For her.”Not for me. Not for the people she robs or kills.“It’s the first time I’ve ever said that out loud. The others know. You should too.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to anything.” Corayne’s head snapped up to find Andry staring at her, his faced gold at the edges with summer sunlight. He watched her intently. “What your mother is, or what your father was.”

My father.Even though she had seen Taristan, far too close for her liking, his face identical to her father’s, she could not see Cortael in her mind. The image wouldn’t hold. It was wrong somehow, and she knew why. It didn’t matter that she had seen his twin. She would never see Cortael himself. Whatever remained was ash and bone. He was lost to her, without hope of return. A man she didn’t want, who hadn’t wanted her. And still it cut her to pieces.

“You saw him die. You knew him.”You heard his voice; you saw his face.

Andry shifted, uncomfortable. “A bit.”

“More than me.”

Sorasa’s shout forced them apart. She stood in the saddle, the cowl back around her neck, a dirty shawl or blanket draped around her shoulders. She could pass for a farmer or a beggar, if no one looked too hard.

“It’s three days’ ride to Adira,” she called. “I’d prefer to do it without a Gallish army on my heels.”

“Adira?” Corayne and Andry said in unison, both gaping. But while Trelland was incredulous—stunned, even—Corayne felt a rare burst of excitement.

Dom seemed to share Andry’s trepidation. He launched himself into the saddle, wheeling his horse up alongside Sorasa. He loomed down on her, eyes flashing. “You can’t be serious.”

“The witch said seven,” Sorasa said neatly. “Adira will get us to seven.”

“Adira will get uskilled,” Andry sighed, climbing neatly into the saddle.

After a moment of scrambling, Corayne got her foot under her in the stirrup and swung a leg gracelessly over the saddle. Still, she smiled.Adira.There was not a sailor aboard her mother’s ship who did not have a tale of the Adoring Port, a pilgrimage for all below and beyond the laws of any crown.

“You were at the temple, Trelland,” Corayne said, leaning over to eye the squire. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a few drunks and cutthroats.”

Sorasa grinned and snapped her reins. “More than a few.”

“Gods save us,” Andry murmured under his breath.

20

BLEED FOR ME

Erida

“The suitor is next, Your Majesty,” Lady Harrsing said in her ear, bending over Erida, who was seated on her throne.

Both sighed in annoyance. The old woman and the Queen had seen a hundred of their like over the years, petitioners noble and peasant, both men and women, rich and poor, handsome, ugly, and everything in between. They had only one thing in common—they were stupid enough to think they could tempt the Queen of Galland.

In most courts, petitions were heard in public, in a throne room or great hall jammed with courtiers feeding their own amusement. Not so in Galland. The petitions chamber was small and comfortable, wood-paneled with tapestries on the walls, one end of the room raised to seat the Queen, her chosen advisors, and her knights of the Lionguard. Today the odious honor fell to Lady Harrsing and six guardians, half of them nearly asleep. There were more knights stationed just outside, in the halls and passageways branching off the throne, should the need arise. Erida guessed they were dozing as well.