It was exactly as though she’d been plunged into a pool of ice. Every inch of her body tensed. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Her stomach felt like a solid block of frozen rock. It was obvious where Perry had been about to go with that ill-conceived sentence. Not since Evered.

The foolish girl she’d been had loved him. She’d placed herself and her trust in his hands and he’d dropped it all to shatter upon the deck. They’d been excited for the adventure, the thrill of it all. But he’d stayed in their cabin the whole trip even once his seasickness had worn off, abandoning her so she’d been forced to earn a place here alone.

And beneath that layer … As her husband, he’d had control of her money, and he’d frittered it away on a poor deal with FitzRoy.

And the next … She’d trusted her body to him, too, but he’d hurt her, marked her when she’d challenged him, and outright refused to even acknowledge a woman could enjoy sex.

But she might have fixed it. Given time. Given a chance to adapt to this new place, he might have accepted it and gone back to being the dashing, charming man she’d married.

The man who’d abandoned her the moment he’d set food on The Morrigan’s deck.

The only thing worse was what she’d done. She’d brought him here with her silly dreams. And he’d died because of it.

No surprise that foolish girl had fallen apart. The sea—the world was no place for dreamers or romance or love or any of it. Her only option had been to become Lady Vice. Who was strong. Who didn’t rely on anybody. Who didn’t love and so didn’t grieve and would not break.

She shivered, arms wrapped around herself. This was why she skirted thoughts of him. It was too much. Too big a mistake. Too much hurt. It left her weak and hollow.

“I just found the correlation interesting,” Perry went on, voice light. “Caring for someone is—”

“It’s sex.” The words somehow ground from between her teeth. “If you’re doing it right, sex makes you smile. It doesn’t mean I care for him. It doesn’t mean anything.”

It couldn’t mean anything. That would be dangerous. That would lay her bare, ready to be destroyed the moment he inevitably let her down, just as Evered had.

Perry pushed a lock of hair from Vice’s face, hooking it behind her ear. Vice kept stock-still as Perry pressed a warm hand to her cheek. “You just seem content,” she said, gentle, low, like distant memories of a mother. “And that’s—well, it’s a lovely thing to see. I’m happy for you.”