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Chapters (51)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. ONE
  6. TWO
  7. THREE
  8. FOUR
  9. FIVE
  10. SIX
  11. SEVEN
  12. EIGHT
  13. NINE
  14. TEN
  15. ELEVEN
  16. TWELVE
  17. THIRTEEN
  18. FOURTEEN
  19. FIFTEEN
  20. SIXTEEN
  21. SEVENTEEN
  22. EIGHTEEN
  23. NINETEEN
  24. TWENTY
  25. TWENTY-ONE
  26. TWENTY-TWO
  27. TWENTY-THREE
  28. TWENTY-FOUR
  29. TWENTY-FIVE
  30. TWENTY-SIX
  31. TWENTY-SEVEN
  32. TWENTY-EIGHT
  33. TWENTY-NINE
  34. THIRTY
  35. THIRTY-ONE
  36. THIRTY-TWO
  37. THIRTY-THREE
  38. THIRTY-FOUR
  39. THIRTY-FIVE
  40. THIRTY-SIX
  41. THIRTY-SEVEN
  42. THIRTY-EIGHT
  43. THIRTY-NINE
  44. FORTY
  45. FORTY-ONE
  46. FORTY-TWO
  47. EPILOGUE
  48. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  49. Also by Adrienne Young
  50. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  51. Newsletter Sign-up

But that night in Dern, when we said we wouldn’t lie to each other, he hadn’t told me the whole truth. And I was afraid of what I might find if he did. That when I saw him again, he would look different to me. That he would look like Saint.

TWELVE

The faint flicker of sprawling lights glowed like stars on the shoreline ahead.

Bastian.

I stood at the bow of the Luna, watching the city come closer. It was a place I knew only in stories. Streets and lights and colors that formed memories that weren’t my own.

My mother had loved Bastian. The way the wet streets shone in the moonlight. The roll of buildings up the hill and the smell of the markets. But in the end, she left and she’d never gone back.

The hands of the dockworkers below slowed on their tasks as the Luna made port, and the crew pulled up her sails, stowing them neatly on the masts. She looked beautiful in the cloak of night, the dark wood gleaming and polished. But there was no amount of scrubbing or ruffled shirts that could hide where we’d come from. We were Narrows-born traders through and through and from the look of everyone in the harbor, they knew it.

Every other ship anchored in the bays looked as if they were carved from rays of daylight, crisp and clean against the wide sky. The cities of the Unnamed Sea prided themselves on their opulence, and none more than Bastian. My mother had never carried the same air, but it was still there in little things. Like the way she kept her dredging tools pristine on her belt or the way her fingernails seemed to always be clean.

There are some things that can’t be carved from a person, no matter how far from home they’ve sailed.

The harbor master appeared in the distance, followed by a throng of dockworkers trailing behind him. His severe brow made his eyes look squinted and the parchments in his hand fluttered as he waved his arms over his head. But Zola didn’t waste any time making himself at home. He didn’t even wait for approval before having the crew secure the hauling lines.

“Who’s that there?” the harbor master called out, stopping to look up and study the crest on the foresail.

Zola met Clove’s eyes before he took the ladder down, and the crew of the Luna watched over the side of the ship as he walked up the dock to meet him.

“Time to go.” Clove tucked an extra knife into his belt.