Zola had to have been telling the truth about the crew being ordered not to touch me. They hadn’t so much as looked in my direction as they came in and out of the cabin overnight, taking their rest hours in staggered shifts. Sometime in the dark hours I’d closed my eyes, West’s knife still clutched in my fist.

Voices in the passageway lifted me from the haze between waking and sleeping. The speed of the Luna dragged and I tensed as a blue glass bottle rolled across the floor beside me. I could feel the ship slow as I unfolded my legs and got to my feet.

The pounding of footsteps trailed above and I pressed myself to the wall, watching for any movement through the door. But there was only the sound of the wind coming down the passageway.

“Strike sails!” The booming sound of Clove’s voice made me flinch.

My stomach dropped as I watched shadows flit between the slats. We were making port.

He called out the orders one after the other, and more voices answered. When the ship groaned again, my feet slid on the damp wood and I reached out to catch myself on the bulkhead.

Either we’d picked up speed and made it out of the Narrows in a single night, or we were making a stop.

I stepped through the door, one hand to the wall as I watched the steps. Calla hadn’t told me to stay put in the cabin and Zola said I wasn’t a prisoner, but walking around the ship alone made me feel as if I were waiting for someone to stick a blade in my back.

The sunlight hit my face as I came up the stairs and I blinked furiously, trying to focus my eyes against its glare. Two crew members climbed each of the huge masts, taking up the downhauls in a locked rhythm until the sails were reefed.

I froze when I saw Clove at the helm, tucking myself into the mast’s shadow. My teeth clenched, a bitter fury covering every inch of my skin as I watched him. I had never imagined a world in which Clove could betray Saint. But the worst part was that she’d trusted him—my mother. She’d loved Clove like a brother and the thought that he could betray her was unfathomable. It was something that couldn’t exist.

Zola stood at the bow with his arms crossed over his chest, the collar of his jacket pulled up against the wind. But it was what lay beyond him that made me stop breathing altogether. I reached for the nearest railing, my mouth dropping open.

Jeval.