“Vice,” Perry murmured, clutching her sleeve, “I’m sorry, I—that’s what I was trying to tell you. I tried to argue with him, but you know it’s useless. When he’s made up his mind, it’s made.”

Vice tore her gaze from FitzRoy’s cabin door. Tried to argue … made up his mind … This didn’t make sense.

Perry was staring up at her, a wince wrinkling around her eyes. “It’s only temporary until we get to Albion. I’m not a proper captain.”

Throat closing, Vice jerked away a step. Not a proper captain. Well, she wasn’t any kind of captain at all—proper or not. He’d made Perry captain of the Covadonga. She shook her head, skin on fire, pulse pounding. He’d promised.

She’d spent the past three years learning everything there was to know. She’d done everything he’d asked. Risked her life how many times? Saved this ship from storms, from hidden rocks, from larger, better-armed vessels—from ships of the line, damn it. She’d even given him his first and only real clue to Drake’s treasure.

“Vice, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Congratulations,” she bit out and stomped to FitzRoy’s door. She would remind him of all that, make him—

The door opened, and Bricus strutted out, a twist to his usual smile. He raised his hands. “Oh! Vice!” He chuckled. “Didn’t see you there.” The twist vanished, and a different light entered his eyes as he smiled up at her.

Pity?

She gritted her teeth and backed away.

No. She wasn’t going to debase herself by begging FitzRoy for the captaincy—for anything.

Chest heaving, she turned as Perry finished unfolding the sheet of paper. “Aedan,” she called, “Lizzy, Saba, Wynn, Effie …”

The names went on, and Vice listened for hers.

It didn’t come.

Her whole team was going with Perry, leaving her on The Morrigan with—

Urgh, and there he bloody was.

Knigh, above on the quarterdeck, face unreadable as he watched Perry gathering her new crew to take on the Covadonga. Barnacle sat on the rail beside him. Traitor.

Her heart crumpled. For the best. A clean break. All of that, it was true, it was …

In another world, one where people could be relied upon, one where she’d made a different choice, he might’ve comforted her now. Reminded her that there were other ships in the sea, other chances the become captain. His hand on her waist, his quiet voice in her ear.

But. No. She stiffened. She didn’t want that. Because in this world, everyone let you down eventually. Fitz not declaring her captain being just another in a long list of examples. It was only disappointment making her weak, opening up the door she’d closed.

Knigh hated her. That door wasn’t only closed—she’d blown it to smithereens.

It was for the best.