The island sat like a shining emerald in the brilliant blue sea. The barrier islands emerged from the churning waters below like blackened teeth, and the Luna drifted into the last bay of the crude docks as the sun peeked over the familiar rise in the distance.

The last time I’d seen the island, I’d been running for my life. I’d thrown myself at the mercy of the Marigold’s crew after four years of diving those reefs to survive. Every muscle in my body coiled tightly around my bones as we drifted closer.

A barefoot boy I recognized ran down the dock to secure the heaving lines as the Luna neared the outcropping. A deckhand climbed over the railing beside me, reaching for the ties that secured the ladder on the side of the ship, and tugged at their ends until the knots were free. It unrolled against the starboard side with a slap.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

The man arched an eyebrow as he looked up at me, his gaze dragging over my face. But he didn’t answer. “Ryland! Wick!”

Two younger crew members came down from the quarterdeck, one tall and lanky with a fair mop of hair. The other one was broad and muscular, his dark hair shaved down to the scalp.

The deckhand dropped a crate before them and the rattle of steel made me flinch. It was filled with the dredging tools I’d seen last night. “Get these sorted.”

From the look of the belts around their waists, they were Zola’s dredgers. When he felt my attention on him, the dark-haired one looked up at me, his gaze like the hot burn of rye.

Jeval wasn’t a port. The only reason to come here was to offload small over-calculations in inventory. Maybe a crate of fresh eggs that didn’t sell in one of the port towns, or a few extra chickens the crew hadn’t eaten. And then there was pyre. But pyre wasn’t the kind of stone that attracted an outfit like Zola’s, and I’d never seen his crest on a ship here before.

If we were stopping in Jeval, Zola needed something else. Something he couldn’t get in the Narrows.

I followed the railing toward the bow, fitting myself behind the foremast so I could see the docks without being spotted by anyone who might recognize me. The other ships anchored in the meager harbor were all small vessels and, in the distance, I could see the little boats packed with bodies coming in from the island to trade, carving white trails in the water.