A young man in naval uniform pulled the key from the lock, face set in an expression far too grim for his smooth cheeks. At his nod, the cage lowered from the battlements, leaving her alone, dangling from the walls of Portsea Castle.

An example for everyone to see.

The sickness crept through her veins, seethed in her belly, silenced the hum of her gift that had been such a constant she’d stopped noticing it.

And she was alone. Truly alone this time. No Perry, no Barnacle, no ship. No feel of the sea breathing beneath her feet or at the end of a dock. She could feel nothing but the iron, the sickness, and the throbbing pain of her knuckles and forehead where she’d touched the vile stuff.

Hugging herself, she pulled her coat tight.

To the south, lightning cracked once, twice, and then the clouds dissipated.

The Notorious Lady Vice

Knigh stood in the window of the drawing room, hand resting on the cool glass. Outside, a constant drizzle put a grey cast on the sky, the gardens, everything. The fingers of his other hand traced the smooth curve inside the shell he still kept in his pocket.

Idiot. He should throw it on the fire. He should have thrown it in the sea when he was still in Portsmouth. He should place it on the floor and stamp on it and crush it to a thousand shimmering pieces.

But he didn’t. Frowning, he held it, pressed his thumb into its shallow cup. The purples and yellows of the reef. The blue light of the glow-worm cave. And the changing sea-colours of her eyes—green, turquoise, flecks of frothy pale blue, deep teal, clear cobalt …

Blinking away the ghost of those colours and images, he rubbed his eyes. He would put this behind him. He would forget her.

George was a fool to trust in Mercia, but he was right about one thing. Knigh had been under a great deal of strain since Father’s death. No wonder some silly part of his mind was reluctant to let go of something that had been a brief, bright comfort out at sea.

He scoffed. Or at least the lie had been. The truth was as comforting as a lightning strike.

“What’s so amusing?” Isabel’s voice chimed from the door, closely followed by the light tap of her footsteps.

Taking a deep breath and dropping the shell back in his pocket, Knigh turned. He only managed a half-hearted smile. “Nothing, really.”

“Well, I’ve just heard the news from Portsmouth.” She raised an eyebrow, the cock of her head teasing. “You didn’t tell us you’d captured such an infamous villain.”

His heart gave a heavy thud. There was only one person she could mean. He cleared his throat and turned back to the window, leaning his elbow high on the frame. “You know I don’t like to discuss work.”