“If this other fellow comes toward me,” Katsa said, pointing the sword at the remaining sailor, “he’ll end up sleeping beside Bear.”

“Come back, Patch,” the captain said to her man, “and lower that knife. Do it,” she said sharply, when Patch hesitated. The expression he shot at Katsa was ugly, but he obeyed.

Katsa dropped her blades to the floor. Jem stood, rubbed his neck, and focused a scowl in her direction. Katsa thought of a few choice words she would like to say to Po. She looped his ring back around her neck.

“What exactly have you done to Bear?” the captain asked.

“He’ll wake soon enough.”

“He’d better.”

“He will.”

“And now you’ll explain yourself,” the captain said. “The last we heard of our prince, he was in the Middluns, at the court of King Randa. Training with you, if I’m not mistaken.”

A noise came from the corner. They turned to see Bitterblue on her knees, huddled against the wall, vomiting onto the floor. Katsa went to the girl and helped her to her feet. Bitterblue clung to her clumsily. “The floor is moving.”

“Yes,” Katsa said. “You’ll get used to it.”

“When? When will I get used to it?”

“Come, child.”

Katsa practically carried Bitterblue back to the captain. “Captain Faun,” she said, “this is Princess Bitterblue of Monsea. Po’s cousin. As you’ve guessed, I’m Katsa of the Middluns.”

“I would also guess there’s nothing wrong with that eye,” the captain said.

Katsa pulled the cloth away from her green eye. She looked into the face of the captain, who met her gaze coolly. She turned to Patch and Jem, who looked back at her, understanding now, eyebrows high. So familiar, in the features of their faces, their dark hair, the gold in their ears. The evenness with which they looked into her eyes.

Katsa turned back to the captain. “The princess is in great danger,” she said. “I’m taking her to Lienid to hide her from . . . from those who wish to harm her. Po said you would help us when I showed you his ring. But if you won’t, I’ll do everything in the power of my Grace to force your assistance.”

The captain stared at her, eyes narrowed and face hard to read. “Let me see that ring more closely.”

Katsa stepped forward. She wouldn’t remove the ring from its place around her neck again, not when the sight of it inspired such madness. But the captain didn’t fear her, and she reached out to Katsa’s throat to take the gold circle in her fingers. She turned it this way and that in the light. She dropped the ring and narrowed her eyes at Bitterblue. She turned back to Katsa.

“Where is our prince?” she asked.

Katsa deliberated and decided that she must give this woman pieces, at least, of the truth. “Some distance from here, recovering from injury.”

“Is he dying?”

“No,” Katsa said, startled. “Of course not.”

The captain peered at her, and frowned. “Then why did he give you his ring?”