The only person aside from Ephyra, and occasionally Anton, who sought Beru’s company was Evander, the merchant’s son they’d rescued from the citadel. Despite what he’d endured at the hands of the Witnesses, the boy was the friendliest person on the ship and didn’t hesitate to talk Beru’s ear off about whatever topic struck his fancy. Frequently, it was to bemoan the shortage of nice clothing available to him, sometimes to gossip about the others (he was, she’d learned, shockingly perceptive despite the oblivious airs he often adopted), and occasionally to speculate about what awaited them in Kerameikos.

Beru didn’t mind the constant chatter. She found it soothing, Evander’s voice drowning out the god’s in her head.

This afternoon, the sixth of their journey, Evander was recounting every outfit he’d worn to the five-day wedding celebration of the archduke’s daughter in Endarrion while Beru dozed lightly in her bunk.

“Do you hear that?” Evander asked suddenly, in the middle of musing about the benefits of Endarrion-style jacket laces.

“Hear what?” Beru asked.

“It sounds like someone’s pacing outside,” Evander replied, getting to his feet to investigate.

He was right. There was a rhythmic sound of footsteps that, at first, Beru had simply attributed to the rocking of the ship. Her stomach clenched with nerves.

Evander poked his head out the door and then immediately shut it and turned back to Beru with a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s that handsome swordsman. Should I let him in?”

He could have meant Jude, but Beru knew instinctively it was Hector. The nervousness she’d felt had come from him.

“I’ll go out there,” Beru said, slipping off the bed. “You stay here.”

It took her a moment to summon the courage to open the door.

Since their arrival on the ship, Hector had kept his distance. Beru didn’t know what she’d been hoping for—he’d seemed so relieved, so terribly, achingly pleased to see her in the citadel. But since the escape, he hadn’t sought her out. She must have frightened him, with all that had happened on the beach.

Or perhaps, he hadn’t been glad to see her at all. Perhaps, once again, Beru’s own feelings of relief at seeing Hector had been projected onto him through their strange connection.

He doesn’t really love you, she reminded herself. He only thought he did, because Beru had let her own feelings spill over to him, warping him.

She felt ill just thinking about it. But she forced the feeling down as she wrenched open the door and stepped into the corridor.

Hector’s back was turned as he paced, but the minute he heard the door open he whipped around to face Beru.

They stared at each other for a long, awkward moment.

“Um,” Hector said at last. “How—how are you?”