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“I think it might be good for the crew to see their captain celebrating with us. Stay a while, won’t you?”

“I’m not sure I know how to do that,” I admit.

“It’s easy, Captain!” comes another voice from behind me.

Enwen shows up wearing a new hat that he must have stolen or salvaged somewhere. He holds out a hand to me. In the past, I would have stabbed any hand presumptuous enough to assume I’d want to take it. But with Enwen, I let it slide. I wave him off.

“You’ll have far much more fun without me stepping on your feet,” I say.

“Suit yourself. How about you, little lass?”

Roslyn giggles as Enwen tosses her into the air before returning her to her feet and spinning her about. I tap my foot gently to the music, which is really the only thing I’m comfortable doing in such a situation. I’m not like other people. My emotions aren’t so easily visible on my face, nor am I comfortable showing them most of the time. I don’t know how to be a part of things, because I never thought I was worthy of happiness.

And now things have … changed. It’s confusing, but all is well for now.

I stay at the party for several hours, just to observe how everyone is integrating. Those from the Seventeen Isles may not know the language of the Drifta, but that doesn’t stop them from dancing together. Threydan’s shadow has been cast over them since the day they were born. While they don’t know us well, we freed them from being prisoners to that island forever. That’s a cause worth celebrating over.

Even old Warran smiles now and again and claps along when he thinks no one is looking. Jadine, who must be the closest to his age among all my crew, pulls him into a swinging dance that he doesn’t refuse.

When I’ve judged that I’ve stayed long enough, I return to my quarters. Neither Warran nor Dynkinar has tried to fight me for them, so I take that as a good sign that they’ve decided I’ve earned them. Thank goodness, because I desperately need some time alone.

With the undead following me for who knows how long, I need to be somewhere I can breathe and be unobserved for once.

And then someone is at the door, yet again.

“I wish to sleep,” I say, “so unless it’s urgent, you can return another time.”

The footsteps retreat.

But I recognize that gait, so I rush to the door and open it.

Kearan halts at the sound with his back to me.

“You can come in,” I say. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Are you expecting someone else?” he asks as he turns.

“Only people who need things from me.”

“What makes you think I don’t need anything?”

I am not used to this. There is a charge in the air, something building that will eventually reach its limit and then … something will happen.

I don’t know how to answer that, so I just step aside, a silent invitation for him to enter.

He takes it.

I shut the door before going to the fireplace, striding right past him. “Having gone only a few days without it, I suddenly find myself addicted to the heat.”

“That’ll pass once we’re back in the tropics, I imagine.”

“Perhaps.”

At the silence that fills the room, I ask, “Why did you leave earlier?”

“You needed to heat up.”

Yes, and I thought he’d intended to help with that.