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C irrus lounged with infuriating ease, his gaze locked on Vivienne’s discomfort, savoring every second she squirmed. What did I ever do to make the gods hate me this much?

Everything about him reeked of unearned confidence, from the way his lightning-white hair fell in careless waves to the way his bronzed skin bore the sun’s mark like a badge of honor. His linen shirt hung loose at the collar, exposing just enough tanned muscle to make a statement, the small pendant on his chain catching the morning light. He looked less like a man and more like a sculpted figure of myth—one designed for the sole purpose of getting under her skin.

"You've already met?" Commander Thorne confirmed, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp. "How serendipitous. Then working together should not be an issue."

Every muscle in her body tensed. "What do you mean, working together?"

Commander Thorne released a heavy exhale, his patience waning. "You and Mr. Blume weren’t under the impression you’d be getting a free ride, were you?"

Vivienne’s mouth opened, then closed, her gaze darting between Thorne and Cirrus.

"Miss Banner," the commander continued, unmoved by her unease, "you will report to Officer Theodosia as the Sailing Master’s Mate."

The words twisted her stomach in knots. Being under Cirrus again—and the word ‘mate’ in the same sentence—made her nauseous.

"Commander Thorne," she forced through clenched teeth, "I’d be happy to take on another assignment better suited to my skill set."

A muscle jumped in the commander’s jaw. "The Chancellor informed me you’ve spent the last year working with maps in the Library of Metis."

"Well, yes, but?—"

"Then it’s evident you should work with the officer responsible for maps and navigation," he cut her off, finality in his tone.

She opened her mouth to argue, but there was no way around it.

"Excellent," Thorne said briskly, his expression unreadable. He turned to Lewis. "Mr. Blume, you will assist Doctor Mercer as the Surgeon’s Mate. Perhaps your familiarity with medicinal plants can be of use."

Before either of them could protest, Captain Garrett clapped his hands together. "Now that we’re all acquainted, let’s cast off before we lose the tide."

"Aye, Captain," Thorne nodded before turning his sharpened gaze back to Lewis and Vivienne. "Since you are of no use to me, do try and stay out of the way."

Vivienne narrowed her eyes at him as Lewis scoffed.

"Rude," he muttered to her.

Commander Thorne raised his whistle to his lips and blew a sharp sequence of notes.

"Hands to stations! Prepare to cast off!"

The command rippled through the ranks, relayed by the officers as the deck erupted into a symphony of motion. Sailors scrambled to their posts, hoisting ropes, scaling the rigging, and moving cargo as dockhands loosened the thick ropes tethering the Zephyrus to the pier.

Thorne’s voice pierced through the clamor. "Weigh anchor!"

Gus ‘skullcrusher’ Conway, a behemoth of muscle and ink, bellowed, "Heave away!"

A team of sailors sprang into action, gripping the long wooden bars attached to the capstan. Their muscles strained as they pushed forward in synchronized effort, the heavy chain rattling as the anchor rose steadily from the water.

"Anchor secure, sir!" Gus called, his thunderous voice carrying over the ship.

Captain Garrett stepped forward, his commanding authority unmistakable. "Release the bow and stern lines!"

Thorne parroted the order, and dockworkers hurried to unfasten the last ties binding the Zephyrus to shore.

The captain’s gaze lifted to the towering masts. "Loose the mainsail and topsail!"

Gus relayed the command. "Loose the sails! Get those lines moving!"

Above them, sailors worked quickly, releasing the bindings holding the massive sails in place. The canvas unfurled with a resounding snap, billowing as the wind filled them like breath filling lungs.

"Helm, steer us away from the dock!"

The helmsman nodded, gripping the wheel with steady hands, guiding the ship into open water.

Commander Thorne moved seamlessly through his orders, his voice precise as a scalpel. "Brace the yards! Trim the sails for a port tack!"

The wind caught the sails with a powerful rush, and the Zephyrus surged forward, her hull slicing through the waves as she left the harbor behind. Vantner shrank in the distance, its familiar skyline dissolving into the morning mist.

Vivienne gripped the rail, the salt air sharp in her lungs as her fingers dug into the polished wood. Did my parents stand here, watching the kingdom fade? Did they know they might never return? A tremor ran through her hands, her palms slick with sweat. We have to find them. They need to come home. Briar and I need them to come home.

Beside her, Lewis stood in quiet contemplation, his gaze locked on the receding shore. The weight of their departure hung between them, an unspoken acknowledgment that this journey was larger than either of them had imagined. She forced herself to loosen her grip, exhaling as she willed her arms to unlock from her sides. No turning back now.

"Commander Thorne," Captain Garrett’s voice rang over the deck, "secure the lines and prepare for the open sea."

"Aye, Captain!" Thorne barked, immediately relaying the command.

"Theodosia," the captain called, his tone expectant. "What is our course?"

Cirrus stood near the ship's wheel, his white-blond hair catching the wind, looking every bit the seasoned navigator. "West by southwest, sir."

"Set the course, Commander," Garrett instructed.

Thorne signaled the helmsman, who gave a sharp nod before spinning the wheel, aligning the ship with the unseen path ahead.

Captain Garrett drew in a deep breath, the scent of salt and freedom stretching a smile across his weathered face. He opened his sea-green eyes, his gaze bright with exhilaration. "Commander Thorne," he called, his voice full of anticipation, "all ahead full. Let’s show our new friends what our lady can do."

* * *

With the Zephyrus cutting smoothly through the waves, Commander Thorne led Vivienne and Lewis on a brisk tour of the ship. Below deck, the scent of salt and aged wood thickened as they descended into the hold, where barrels and crates were meticulously arranged. Laverna Omphrey, the Purser, stood arms crossed, sharp eyes assessing them like a merchant appraising goods.

"I know exactly where everything is and how much of it there is," she stated, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "If you try to help yourselves, I’ll personally ensure you leave this voyage one finger short."

Vivienne and Lewis exchanged wary glances, but the Purser had already moved on, counting inventory under her breath.

The orlop deck housed additional storage and the ship’s infirmary, where Doctor Mercer would soon have Lewis elbow-deep in medical work. The gun deck, a level above, was lined with rows of imposing cannons, each secured with thick ropes to prevent them from rolling in rough seas.

Florence Solandis, the gunner, leaned against one of the cannons, arms draped lazily over her chest, chewing a fresh wad of tobacco.

"Same rules as Laverna," she said, voice casual. "Except instead of a missing finger, you’ll be finding out firsthand how much of a hole a cannonball leaves."

Lewis gave repeated, aggressive nods, and Vivienne added Florence to her mental list of people not to piss off.

The crew quarters were compact, hammocks strung between the beams, with wooden chests tucked beneath them for personal belongings. The scent of salt, sweat, and damp wood lingered.

"Mr. Blume," Thorne said, gesturing toward a hammock in the far corner, "your trunks have been stored beneath."

Lewis eyed the tight sleeping arrangements, adjusting his glasses. "Lovely."

Vivienne searched the room, brows knitting when she didn’t spot her own trunk.

Noticing her confusion, Thorne explained, "The captain has assigned you to the officer’s quarters."

Her relief was instant, though she tried to suppress how grateful she felt. Personal space. Privacy. A door that locked. She wouldn't have to sleep in a cabinet of sweaty sailors.

Thorne barely waited for her reaction before turning back to Lewis. "You settle in. I’ll escort Miss Banner."

Lewis gave her a concerned glance, but she offered an encouraging nod. I’ll be fine.

The walk to her cabin was silent, save for the rhythmic creak of the ship beneath their feet. The officers’ cabins lined a narrow hallway, adjacent to the captain’s quarters.

Stopping at the third door, Thorne pulled a ring of keys from his belt, selecting one before unlocking the door and handing it to her.

"Do not lose this," he instructed, his tone clipped. "There’s a spare in the captain’s quarters in case of emergency. Do not have an emergency."

Vivienne resisted the urge to roll her eyes as he swung open the door.

The cabin was small but serviceable. A single bunk was mounted to the left wall, with shelves and hooks for storage. A wash basin and a small barrel of freshwater sat beneath a glazed porthole window, allowing muted sunlight to filter in. A wooden writing desk and chair were bolted to the floor, positioned near her trunk.

It was simple but infinitely better than a hammock in a crowded room.

Thorne stood at the threshold, his extended arm holding the door open. "If, after unpacking, you’d prefer your trunk in the hold for more space, I’ll summon a crew member."

Vivienne offered a genuine smile, stepping closer to the doorway. "Thank you. This will be perfect."

"My pleasure, Miss Banner." Thorne tipped his head slightly, still holding the door open.

She hesitated. "You can call me Vivienne."

His jaw tensed, and his expression cooled. "Miss Banner, aboard this ship, we maintain propriety. At the very least, I do my best to set an example of decorum."

Her cheeks warmed, the moment not landing as she’d intended. "Noted," she murmured, avoiding his gaze as she made to step into the room.

"Miss Banner."

She stopped short, surprised to find him sharing the limited space of the doorway. For the first time, she noticed his scent—cedar and salt, clean and crisp, like a storm just before it broke.

"The captain has called a meeting after lunch," he said, voice lower than before. "Report to his quarters by 1:30 p.m."

Vivienne nodded, her eyes catching his. Flecks of burgundy and gold glinted from the depths of espresso irises.

She swallowed, trying to clear the sudden dryness. "I’ll be there."

A voice drawled from the hallway. Smooth, cocky, and unmistakable.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Vivienne exhaled sharply as Cirrus strode toward her quarters.

"Of course not," Commander Thorne's tone snapped back to its usual crispness as he cleared his throat and took a step back. "Meeting at 1:30 p.m.," he repeated, directing the reminder toward Cirrus.

Cirrus gave a mocking salute, his ice-blue gaze flickering between Thorne and Vivienne. "Yes, sir."

Vivienne watched Thorne retreat, his broad frame disappearing into the officer’s quarters two doors down, the door clicking shut behind him.

She turned back to Cirrus, now leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He watched her with an expression she couldn’t place. Is that expectation? A challenge? The thrill of my misery?

"I have to unpack," she said flatly, gripping the door and beginning to close it.

Cirrus' hand shot out, palm firm against the wood, keeping it from shutting. "Gods, Vivienne, can you at least say hello?"

She plastered on the most insincere smile she could muster. "Fine. Hello ."

She pushed the door again, but Cirrus held steady, irritation flashing in his eyes.

"Not a single word from you in three years," he said, voice dipping low, "and now you show up on the same ship I’m assigned to and you won’t even talk to me?"

Vivienne gritted her teeth. Of all the ships, of all the voyages, of all the people.

Realizing he wouldn’t budge, she swung the door open wider, arms folding tight across her chest. "What is there to talk about?" Vexation vibrated in her words. "Nothing about our situation has changed, has it?" Except for the part where I’m now stuck at sea with you.

For a moment, Cirrus said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then his voice dropped, losing some of its usual playfulness. "Not exactly," he admitted, then hesitated. "But… Banns?—"

" Ugh. " Vivienne pinched the bridge of her nose. "Don’t call me that."

Cirrus sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "We’re going to have to work this out at some point," he said, leaning in, his chiseled features now dangerously close. "We’re assigned together for months. Maybe years. "

Vivienne stiffened, jaw locking tight.

His voice dropped lower, turning smooth as honey. His eyes filled with desire as his gaze traced every outline of her body. "Wouldn’t you rather enjoy our time?"

The audacity. Her blood simmered, but she refused to let him see it. Refused to let him win.

"You won’t be ‘enjoying’ anything involving me , " she clarified, setting the stone wall of a boundary. "Now, if you’d be so kind as to remove your hand from my door, I’d really love to unpack ."

Cirrus released the door with a slow smirk, but the moment his fingers left the wood?—

SLAM.

Vivienne pressed her back against the door, arms still tense at her sides, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. I hope it hit him.

* * *

Lewis rapped his knuckles against the heavy oak door of the captain’s quarters. The latch clicked, and Thorne pulled it open, stepping aside.

"Miss Banner, Mr. Blume," Captain Garrett greeted them with a close-lipped smile. "Come in, have a seat."

Sunlight poured through the broad windows lining the stern, casting golden streaks across the sprawling oak desk, its surface cluttered with maps, instruments, and ink pots. Shelves lined the walls, neatly packed with charts, ledgers, and navigational tools. A modest but well-kept bunk rested against the port side.

Thorne gestured to the three chairs opposite the captain’s desk. Vivienne and Lewis took their seats as Thorne remained standing, arms clasped behind his back.

The door burst open.

Thorne’s hand flew to his sword hilt, but relaxed just as fast as Cirrus strolled inside, grinning like a man without a care in the world.

"Easy now, Commander," Cirrus teased. "It’s only your navigator, armed only with a few maps."

Thorne’s glare was sharp enough to cut sailcloth, but he said nothing as Cirrus flopped into the last empty chair, lounging like he owned the place.

Captain Garrett waited for the door to shut before leveling a steady gaze at them all. "Let’s get straight to it. You’re both aware of the true purpose of this voyage?"

Vivienne drew a breath, ready to answer, but Lewis beat her to it.

"In case we have different definitions of 'aware', maybe we do a quick recap?"

A hint of surprise flickered in the captain’s sea-green eyes. "Fair enough, Mr. Blume. We’re sailing for the islands of Osimiri to search for any knowledge or artifacts to break the curse on our kingdom.”

Vivienne's eyes snapped up, brows knitting together.

The captain clocked the look. "Believe it or not, Miss Banner," Garrett continued, "the Isles and the curse are as real as this ship, and filled with things we still don’t fully understand."

Vivienne tilted her head. Her fingers drifted toward the table. "What do you mean by things we don’t understand ?"

Cirrus unfurled a large, weathered map across the desk, the parchment crinkling beneath his fingertips. "Let’s start with what we do know."

A jolt of realization spread down Vivienne’s limbs like lighting. She had spent an entire year buried in maps, but this one she had never seen before. Her gaze landed first on the detailed coastline of Verdance, the nearest island west of Fendwyr. Her eyes widened. My mother drew this. The inlets, the waterfalls cascading down mountains, the sketched landmarks were all familiar, yet suddenly so much more real.

"Verdance sits about 200 miles southwest of Vantner," Cirrus explained, tracing a tanned finger along the map’s edge. "With the wind in our favor, we should reach it in two days."

Lewis frowned, adjusting his glasses. "Only 200 miles? If it’s that close, why don’t people just… go there?"

"It’s been erased from public maps," Cirrus replied, lips curling into a knowing grin. "And anyone with knowledge of it is sworn to secrecy. You can’t find what you don’t know exists."

Vivienne’s eyes skimmed left across the map. "What about the other islands?"

The further west she looked, the sketches became less precise. The second and third islands held only rough outlines with notes scrawled in the margins. Beyond that, there were general locations and question marks.

Cirrus pushed his hair out of his face. "Most of what we know comes from previous voyages, but we’ve never gotten past here." He tapped the third island in the chain at the center of the map. "This time around, we’re hoping to change that."

Vivienne’s stomach churned, afraid of the answer to her question. "How far did my parents get?"

The room went silent as a tomb.

Vivienne’s fingers curled into fists. "How far?"

Lewis shifted beside her, his eyes darting between the captain, commander, and navigator.

Cirrus exhaled, resting his elbows on the desk. "Last time I sailed with them?" He tapped the outer edge of the third island. "Here."

Vivienne jerked back. "You’ve sailed with my parents?"

Cirrus leaned closer, that damn smirk returning. "I told you we should talk."

Heat flared behind her ribs. How many other secrets have they kept from me? Not mentioning you traveled with your daughter’s ex-fiance is a weird detail to leave out.

Captain Garrett stood, redirecting the conversation. "One island at a time, Miss Banner. No sense worrying about people and places we haven’t reached yet.” The captain dropped his voice to a low hum. “The officers are the only ones aboard who know the full scope of our voyage. As far as the rest of the crew is concerned, this is a research mission. Understood?"

She and Lewis gave simultaneous nods.

The captain placed his palms on the desk, looking between them. "Seeing as neither of you have sailed before, your education now falls under my purview."

Vivienne braced herself, unsure of what such an education would include.

The captain’s grin widened. "Commander Thorne, you’ll oversee their training."

Thorne blinked slow, deliberate, almost pained.

Vivienne bit her lip to keep from smiling. For how much emotion the commander doesn’t express, that blink wasn’t an objection, it was a full scale mutiny.

"Aye, Captain," he replied at last, voice flat as the plateaus in the northern mountains.

Captain Garrett clapped his hands together, his smile easy and open once more. "Welcome to the crew."