She’d taught him this, of course. Barked orders for years, until she trusted that Sanjiv could sail even if he was hungover and puking.

That had happened exactly one time, when she convinced him that peach schnapps wasn’t alcoholic.

But now it was as intuitive as walking. Maybe more so. And it was the best thing Ching has ever done for him, sharing her love of this. He couldn’t stay mad at her here, even if sailing was the whitest, richest possible hobby he could possibly have.

He joined her at the front of the small skiff, letting the wind take them gently toward the far end of the lake.

“Sorry for yelling at you . . . and saying all that stuff.” Even as Sanjiv said it, he knew he wasn’t really sorry. But he also knew Ching never apologized first.

Ching shrugged. “Whatever.”

“And maybe you . . . are . . . also something . . . ?” Sanjiv started, like a fill-in-the-blank test.

“I am . . . something,” she said, stubbornly staring ahead.

“You are sorry . . . for doing something . . . to someone?” Sanjiv prodded.

“Fine,” Ching growled. “I definitely did have an ulterior motive. You were right.”

“Of course you did.” Sanjiv sighed. He hadn’t been sure about that at all. He’d just wanted an apology for the constant harassment.

“I, uh.” She paused and seemed almost ashamed for a second, which was so spectacularly unlikely that all Sanjiv could do was stare at her, a little worried.

“I know her ghost.”

“Addy’s?”

“Yep.”

“Okay . . .”

Ching nodded once, like this was a perfectly normal and complete explanation.

“And who is her ghost?”

“A fucking asshole.”

“So . . . you want me to get with Addy ’cause her ghost is an asshole. This makes perfect sense.”

Ching groaned and leaned back. “Her ghost is a bounty hunter I met in the summer of 1808. He pretended to be a . . . an ally. But then he fucking betrayed me and was going to turn me in for the biggest bounty the world had ever seen.”

Sanjiv raised an eyebrow. “I thought you never got captured.”

“I didn’t. I fought his crew off and managed to escape. But while I was recovering from my injuries, my stupid, utterly incapable first mate lost at the goddamn Battle of the Tiger’s Mouth and surrendered our fleet.”

That last part, Sanjiv had heard before. He’d heard all of Ching’s rants about Cheung Po Tsai and Tiger’s Mouth and the Portuguese, and till now, he would have said Cheung was Ching’s least favorite person ever.

But it seemed this bounty hunter guy was somehow even worse. Ching was still yelling something about Addy’s ghost when Sanjiv interrupted.

“So you hate this guy because he injured you—”

“His crew did,” Ching said. “He was too cowardly to even face me.”

“But why would you want me to talk to Addy, then, if you hate this guy so much?”