VII

There was a moment, when a ship first put out to sea.

When the land fell away and the world stretched wide, nothing but water and sky and freedom.

It was Lila’s favorite time, when anything could happen and nothing yet had. She stood on the deck of the Ghost as Tanek parted around them, and the wild night opened its arms.

When she finally went below, Jasta was waiting at the base of the stairs.

“Avan,” said Lila casually.

“Avan,” rumbled Jasta.

It was a narrow hall, and she had to sidestep the captain in order to get by. She was halfway past when Jasta’s hand shot out and closed around her throat. Lila’s feet left the floor and then she was hanging, pinned roughly against the wall. She scrambled for purchase, too stunned to summon magic or reach her blade. By the time she finally freed the one she kept strapped to her ribs, the captain’s hand had withdrawn and Lila was sagging back against the wall. One leg buckled before she managed to catch herself.

“What the everloving hell was that for?”

Jasta just stood there, looking down at Lila as if she hadn’t just tried to strangle her. “That,” said the captain, “was for insulting my ship.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she snarled.

Jasta simply shrugged. “That was a warning. Next time, I throw you over.”

With that, the captain held out her hand. It seemed a bad idea to take it, but a worse idea to refuse. Before Lila could decide, Jasta reached down and hauled her upright, gave her a sturdy pat on the back, and walked away, whistling as she went.

Lila watched the woman go, rocked by the sudden violence, the fact that she hadn’t seen it coming. She holstered her blade with shaking fingers, and went to find Kell.

* * *

He was in the first cabin on the left.

“Well, this is cozy,” she said, standing in the doorway.

The cabin was half the size of a closet, and about as welcoming. With just enough space for a single cot, it reminded Lila a bit too much of the makeshift coffin she’d been buried in by a bitter Faroan during the tournament.

Kell was sitting on the cot, turning a royal pin over in his fingers. When he saw her, he tucked it in his pocket.

“Room for another?” she asked, feeling like a fool even as she said it. There were only four cabins, and one was being used as a cell.

“I think we can make do,” said Kell, rising to his feet. “But if you’d rather …”

He took a step toward the door, as if to go. She didn’t want him to.

“Stay,” she said, and there it was, that flickering smile, like an ember, coaxed with every breath.

“All right.”

A single lantern hung from the ceiling, and Kell snapped his fingers, pale fire dancing above his thumb as he reached up to light the wick. Lila turned in a careful circle, surveying the cubby. “A bit smaller than your usual accommodations, mas vares?”

“Don’t call me that,” he said, pulling her back toward him, and she was about to say it again just to tease him when she saw the look in his eyes and relented, running her hands along his coat.

“All right.”

He pulled her close, brushing his thumb against her cheek, and she knew he was looking at her eye, the spiral of fractured glass.

“You really didn’t notice?”

Color spread across his fair cheeks, and she wondered, absently, if his skin freckled in the summer. “I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said I was distracted by your charm?”

Lila let out a low, sharp laugh. “My knives, perhaps. My quick fingers. But not my charm.”

“Wit, then. Power.”

She flashed a wicked smile. “Go on.”

“I was distracted by everything about you, Lila. I still am. You’re maddening, infuriating, incredible.” She’d ben teasing, but he clearly wasn’t. Everything about him—the set of his mouth, the crease in his brow, the intensity in that blue eye—was dead serious. “I have never known what to make of you. Not since the day we met. And it terrifies me. You terrify me.” He cupped her face in both hands. “And the idea of you walking away again, vanishing from my life, that terrifies me most of all.”

Her heart was racing, banging out that same old song—run, run, run—but she was tired of running, of letting things go before she had the chance to lose them. She pulled Kell closer.

“Next time I walk away,” she whispered into his skin, “come with me.” She let her gaze drift up to his throat, his jaw, his lips. “When this is all over, when Osaron is gone and we’ve saved the world again, and everyone else gets their happily ever after, come with me.”

“Lila,” he said, and there was so much sadness in his voice, she suddenly realized she didn’t want to hear his answer, didn’t want to think of all the ways their story could end, of the chance that none of them would make it out alive, intact. She didn’t want to think beyond this boat, this moment, so she kissed him, deeply, and whatever he was going to say, it died on his lips as they met hers.

VIII

Holland sat on the cot with his back against the cabin wall.

Beyond the wooden boards, the sea splashed against the ship’s hull, and the rocking of the floor beneath him made him dizzy every time he moved. The iron cuff around Holland’s wrist wasn’t helping—the manacles been spelled to dampen magic, the effect like a wet cloth over a fire, not enough to douse his flame, but enough to make it smoke, like a cloud smothering his senses.