He sighed and when he looked up, he found himself outside Waters’ bookshop. His subconscious must have led him here, seeking Vee. It wouldn’t hurt to have a quick look.

The bell rang bright as the bells of the fair folk back in Albion when they rode past in the night, unseen, but heard.

Waters looked up, blinking. “Ah, Knigh, wasn’t it?” He smiled, blue eyes twinkling. “Well, come in then, no need to hover at the door.”

Knigh cleared his throat and obeyed, nodding as he entered. “Mr Waters.”

The older man chuckled. “Just Waters—no Mr required in Nassau, young man.”

“But didn’t I hear you call someone Mr Vane last time I was here?”

Waters’ eyebrows shot up. “Observant fellow, aren’t you? Well, Mr Vane is something of an exception. An exception I’d rather stay on the right side of. So, yes, he’s Mr Vane, at least to the likes of me.” His angled his head, a sardonic smile quirking his mouth.

Knigh glanced along the lines of bookcases as he approached the counter. Good, they were the only two here, so he was free to ask. “You protected Vee from him that day, though, didn’t you?”

Eyes narrowing, Waters gave a deep sigh. “A little too observant, it seems.”

“I’d apologise if I felt sorry about it.” Knigh lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.

Waters chuckled, shaking his head. “You almost sound like Vice.” He glanced at the door. “Is she not with you?”

“No. I was hoping I might find her here, truth be told.”

“As you can see”—Waters lifted his hand, indicating their only company was leather and paper—“no Vice here—save what’s in some of the spicier books.” He gave a wink. “I haven’t seen her today—I only knew The Morrigan had returned when I saw you, in fact. Assuming you’re still with them?”

Knigh nodded.

“Of course you are.” Waters’ eyebrows raised, and his eyes glinted above a warm smile. “Speaking of our favourite Pirate Queen …”

He reached under the counter, and Knigh couldn’t help but tense thanks to all the years of combat training. But when he only produced a book bound in salt-stained blue leather, Knigh released the tension with a breath.

“This came to me some time ago with a large shipment of old books from”—he waved his hand—“somewhere on the mainland. I don’t ask too many questions.”

No doubt because his stock was mostly stolen from ships or towns or looted from wrecks. “Understandable.”

“I’ve only just had the chance to go through them all, and I found this.” He slid the book over the counter.

Knigh ran his fingers over the embossed shape of a dragon picked out in copper leaf, gleaming fire-bright like the sheathed hull of the Venatrix.