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“You know, Captain,” she says a little too innocently. “I’ve just thought of something. Perhaps we should make the most of our time together.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I place my full attention on the food before me.

She is undeterred. “I once asked Alosa who had the highest death count in the keep. I thought it might be her, but did you know it’s actually you?”

I take a long pull from my glass of water.

“So I’m thinking, who better to learn from than you? Alosa has explained to me many times that I can’t grow up to be a siren like her. Ugh. If I have to hear the wordsYou have to be born a sirenone more time …” She trails off. “Anyway, all this is to say I’ve decided I’m an aspiring assassin instead.”

I nearly choke on my water.

Did she really just say the wordsaspiringassassin?

“How many people have you killed?” she asks. “No, wait. First tell me how old you were the first time you killed someone. Then tell me how many.”

I cough before turning to her. Someone has run a brush through her yellow hair and pulled it back out of her face. She’s clean and bright eyed. Her dagger is sheathed at her waist.

“You think you ought to be rewarded for poor behavior?” I ask.

“Sorinda, I’m doing you a favor. You’ll have fewer people to kill if you teach me. We can share the work!”

“Your father would murder me.”

“That’s the best part! He’ll never know because he’s not here. And he could never murder you because you’re a professional murderer.”

“Roslyn.”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Leave my room. Now.”

“But—”

“Go.”

“Fine.” She stomps her feet as loudly as possible and slams the door behind her.

If dealing with Roslyn is the worst of the trouble I have to handle on the way to the Seventeen Isles, I’ll take that punishment happily.

Such a futile wish.

When I step out onto the main deck, there’s not a breeze to stir my hair.

“Bring out the sweeps!” Dimella shouts to the crew. She yells out the names of the first sailors to take turns at the oars.

No wind is bad for morale. Rowing isn’t a task anyone enjoys, and I see many downcast faces. Enwen runs up top with a pair of gloves on.

He sees me and says, “It’s bad luck to be missing the wind so early in a voyage, Captain.”

“Don’t you dare let superstitious rumors spread on this ship, Enwen.”

“Not a rumor if it’s true.”

“Less talking from you and more rowing.”

He harrumphs as he helps the others remove the boards hiding a little inlet on the main deck. Below are benches and openings in the ship for the sweeps.

They take their positions, spread out over eight oars, four on each side.