“Death is natural.” Reid stared determinedly over the gunwale. As we hadn’t yet cleared L’Eau Mélancolique, the waters below didn’t ripple. He clutched his blanket tighter and swallowed hard. “Everyone dies eventually.”

“Yes,” I said slowly, recalling Ansel’s previous words. His had somehow felt comforting, like a benediction. Reid’s, however, did not. They felt more like a threat—no, like a promise. I frowned again, eyes narrowing on his heavy brow, his downcast expression. For the first time since he’d lost his memories—aside from our drunken encounter—he didn’t project malevolence. He didn’t keep one hand on his bandolier. “Death is natural, but murder is not.”

Shrugging, he said nothing.

I fought the urge to move closer. “Are you okay, Chass? Beau is right. We will reach your mother in time—”

He turned on his heel and stalked belowdecks before I could finish. The door slammed behind him.

Awkward silence descended in his wake, and heat crept up my cheeks.

Coco rummaged in her pack, turning her back to the frigid wind. “You shouldn’t need a lesson to know he wants you to go after him.” She withdrew a scrap of parchment, a pot of ink, and a quill before sinking to the boat’s floor. Without ceremony, she used her knee as a table and began to pen a message. To Claud, probably. To Blaise. “Unless you do need a lesson? I could teach you an excellent way to relieve stress—”

“I know plenty of ways to relieve stress, thank you.” When the wind made it impossible to keep the parchment steady, I waved a hand. It stilled for just a moment, stilling the boat as well. We’d just reached the broader expanse of sea, and waves finally broke against the helm. “He wouldn’t be interested in any of them.”

“Oh, I think he’s very interested.” Her smirk faded as she looked up, and she tapped her quill upon the paper pointedly. “What am I telling Claud?”

Resigned, I plopped down next to her, spreading my blanket over her as well. Across the small deck, Beau manned the helm while Célie perched atop the boat’s single bench. Jean Luc joined her. “My father might plan to trap us,” Beau conceded, “but we still have one thing in our favor.” He pointed to Célie and Jean Luc in turn. “We have these two this time. He doesn’t know about them.”

“He knows I abandoned my post,” Jean Luc muttered.

Coco shook her head. “But he doesn’t know why. If he’s learned of Célie’s absence—which I doubt, knowing Tremblay—he might suspect you followed her, but no one would ever believe she’d seek us out, let alone ally with us. Not after everything that’s happened.”