I could still feel the sting on my skin where he’d had his hands around my throat only minutes ago.

“Sit.” He picked up the pearl-plated knife and fork on the table, cutting into the pheasant carefully. “And please, help yourself. You must be hungry.”

The wind coming through the open shutters caught the unrolled maps on his desk, and their worn edges fluttered to life. I glanced around the cabin, trying to find any clue to what he was up to. It was no different than any other helmsman’s quarters I’d seen. And Zola wasn’t giving anything away, watching me expectantly from over the candlesticks.

I dragged the chair at the other end of the table out roughly, letting the legs scrape against the floor, and sat down. He looked pleased, turning his attention back to his plate, and I averted my eyes when the juice of the pheasant began to pool in the center. The salty smell of the food was making the nausea wake inside me, but it was nothing to the hunger that would be in my belly after a few more days.

He stabbed a piece of meat with his fork, holding it before him as he glanced at Calla dismissively. She gave a nod before she ducked out of the quarters, closing the door behind her.

“I trust you’ve accepted that we’re too far from land to take your chances in the water.” He popped the bite of pheasant into his mouth and chewed.

The only thing I knew for sure was that we were sailing southwest. What I couldn’t figure out was where we were headed. Dern was the southernmost port in the Narrows.

“Where are we going?” I kept my voice even, my back straight.

“The Unnamed Sea.” He gave the answer too easily, as if it cost him nothing to do it, and that instantly put me on edge. But I couldn’t hide my surprise, and Zola looked pleased at the sight, stabbing a piece of cheese and twirling the fork in his fingers.

“You can’t go to the Unnamed Sea,” I said, setting my elbows onto the table and leaning forward.

He arched one eyebrow, taking his time to chew before he spoke. “So, people still tell that story, do they?”

I didn’t miss that he hadn’t corrected me. Zola was still a wanted man in those waters, and if I had to guess, he had no license to trade at the ports that lay beyond the Narrows.

“What are you thinking?” He smirked. He sounded as if he really wanted to know.

“I’m trying to figure out why this fight with West is more important to you than your own neck.”

His shoulders shook as his head tipped down, and just when I thought he was choking on the bite of cheese he’d shoved into his mouth, I realized he was laughing. Hysterically.