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“You’re not much better.How are you feeling, Captain?”

“It’s your first time captaining a ship. You’ve lost four sailors. You should talk to somebody about it.”

“I did. I wrote Alosa and told her all about it.”

“And what did Alosa say?”

“None of your business.”

Kearan grunts. “Did she tell you not to blame yourself? Or did she assume you’re unaffected because that’s how you always act?”

I say nothing.

“So she did assume you were fine. Then let me tell you not to blame yourself. It’s not your fault. Don’t focus on the four souls you lost. Think of the twenty-five you saved.”

“Why don’t you keep your thoughts on yourself? Better yet, keep themtoyourself.”

“You look out for everyone on the ship. Someone needs to look out for you.”

“I don’t need looking out for. I’m a damned pirate assassin, Kearan. The only looking out you need to do is for the knife at your throat when you finally piss me off enough.”

He grins.Grins. And says nothing more.

This is why you can’t let them know they get to you. They smile at your expense. My hand goes for my closest knife.

“I care,” Kearan says. “I want to know how you’re doing. I want to know how I can help. We’ve been through some things together. Storms and broken masts and fights against the pirate king. That doesn’t leave anyone unaffected. I just want you to know that you’re incredible, and I want you to be okay.”

My clenched fingers release the knife as sense finally slams back into me.

“Stop trying to flatter me!”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Just because I’m telling the truth doesn’t mean I have an angle. I’m not trying to get anything from you.”

Except he is.

Because men always are.

“Then stop talking. Because your words are purposeless.”

I see his mind turn as he tries to work an argument around that one, but a call interrupts us.

“Land ho!”

When I join Roslyn up in the crow’s nest, I think all she’s spotted is another iceberg at first. It’s much larger than the others, for sure. I can’t even see the edges on the sea, but as we draw closer, I begin to spot other things.

Green. There’s vegetation, and with vegetation comes life.

The little lass has eyes sharper than a hawk’s.

I put the spyglass to my eye, making out the shapes of trees and mountains and snow-covered terrain, but there’s not anything terribly exciting to see on land.

The water surrounding it, however, is another matter.

Dead ahead, I see a bowsprit jutting into the air. To its right, a hull rests at an angle, the structure tottering with the incoming tide. A sail billows atop a broken mast, an unfamiliar flag streaming in the wind. Shattered planks float on the waves, and downy white birds sit atop some of them. A coil of rope has become entwined with seaweed, the brown mass floating alongside a frozen body facedown in the water. Who knows how long he’s been dead? The cold keeps everything perfectly preserved.