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“Because you would tell him anyway. Is there a person in Thalassaria who does not know you bested me?”

“Pardon.” Marek stopped an elderly thaloran on her way to the market. She was at least a middle-tier noble by the quality of her dress and cane. “Do you know my friend Nerys?” he asked. “She once lost a sailing competition to me many years ago. I wondered if you’d heard the story.”

The woman looked from Rowan to me and then landed on Marek. “You must be quite skilled,” she said.

I tried not to laugh lest the woman think I did so at her expense.

“He likes to believe so,” I said. “Do enjoy yourself at the market. That is where you are headed now?”

“I am,” she replied. “Good day to you all.”

In response, Marek bowed with a flourish only he could manage without insult. If she were a few hundred years younger, the woman may have blushed. If her smile were any indication, she did not mind the interruption.

We watched as she passed us, her movements slow.

Having known him for many years, I could guess what Marek would do, and was not at all surprised when he took a step toward her.

“Apologies to you both for being denied my presence. Until we meet again, Rowan.”

Rowan had no time to respond before Marek had caught up with the woman. Linking her arm with his, he began to walk her toward the center of the city.

“That was… surprising.”

I laughed. “Which part, precisely?”

“All of it.”

“Marek is unique, for certain. But he has a good heart, though many don’t see past his roguish ways.”

Rowan’s brows lifted, his expression insinuating.

“Not with me.”

“No?” he asked, clearly disbelieving me.

“No, though not for his initial lack of trying. And he may have succeeded. As you can see, he is quite handsome.”

We began to walk once again.

“What prevented it?”

Smiling at the memory, I breathed in the salt air as a murmur of voices and the smell of spiced fish and baked kelp bread reached us.

“Not what, but who. I’d been at the docks, having finished one of my first royal duties, overseeing a diplomatic mission on behalf of the palace, when he ported. He overheard me being complimented on my sailing skills and, as he told you, I found myself in a friendly competition, not knowing of his reputation. Even then, as a corsair, before he earned the title of Navarch in the Tidebreaker fleet, Marek was quite skilled.”

Rowan whistled. “Navarch. And with the Tidebreaker fleet? Impressive.”

“If you know of the Tidebreaker fleet, you must also know that they aren’t officially a part of the Thalassarian navy. They operate independently, often bending the rules to achieve their goals. It is a perfect fit for him, but not an easy position to obtain.”

“As I’ve heard. But I’ll admit, I’m most interested in how you avoided becoming one of his conquests.”

I could not help laughing at Rowan’s very accurate assessment of our first meeting. “It was a narrow escape, I can assure you. After he won, Marek suggested a drink at The Moonlit Current, a tavern popular with sailors. And one of my personal favorites. We’d just sat down when a human woman, a beautiful one at that, marched up to our table and slapped Marek across the face. She didn’t say a word. Not before, or after. The woman left and although I invited Marek to go after her—he clearly wanted to do so—he remained. He said only that he deserved the slap. It was the only time I’d ever seen him so defeated.”

“I can understand how that might change the dynamic between you.”

“It did. We never spoke of it. Not that day, or since.”

“Never?”