“No. When we first met, I wasn’t thinking I’d…”

“Use me? Betray me?” He turned away, hiding his face in shadow.

I wanted to comfort him and apologize for the damage I’d done. It hurt me that I’d hurt him. But he’d said himself that a certain coldness was required in matters of war. And we were enemies now. True enemies. There was no confusion or murkiness anymore.

“I found this.” He picked something up off the mattress. A paper. It was the message I’d hoped would frame Sewel as a spy. “I believe this is written in your hand.”

Water had damaged it. Chunks were missing and the ink had smeared in places. But it was still a fine-looking spy letter—and it had done what I’d intended. Duncan thought it was real.

“I found the one hidden in this as well,” he said, holding up my watch, “but it was already dissolving into pulp. I always wondered at your attachment to this, even being your father’s. I suppose I should’ve wondered more.”

He held the fake spy message to the candle, letting one corner catch. Then he dropped it on the planks between us and I watched the flame turn it into ashes and smoke.

I looked up, trying to understand.

“Tell me whom you’re working with. Surely not that oaf on the river. Is it Latimer? Did he make you do this?”

“No.”

“Give me a name, Emmeline. Give me anything that will help.”

“No. I’m not going to help you.”

He stood and stalked away, but there was nowhere to go. He turned back. “Can’t you see I’m trying to protect you? We can survive this and still have a life together.”

I stared at him. He still wanted to marry me? “Not a life I want.”

“A life you—a life you want? What could you possibly want that I cannot give you?”

“Independence,” I said, but it was even bigger than that. It was what I couldn’t give him. I didn’t love him.

“Are you serious? I don’t know who you are anymore.”

“You never did.”

His eyes went stone cold. “Have you any idea what you’re doing?”

“Yes.” For the first time, in a very long time, I did. I’d chosen truth. I wasn’t going back. “I’ve never felt surer.”

Without another word, he left the cabin.

My eyes fell to the quivering candle flame. I watched it grow long and steady again; then I touched my head. I had a lump like a stone at my hairline. My vision blurred.

I’d swum with deadly sharks and stolen from deadlier men. I’d survived hurricanes, war, and even love—but I didn’t know if I’d survive this.

I pulled myself off the floorboards, my legs shaking as I stood. The cabin spun around me. My hand shot to the bulwark, bracing. I breathed in. Smelled pine tar and bilgewater.

The door swung open and two redcoats hurried inside.

One carried shears; the other, a length of rope. They were big men, filling the cabin with their bright regimentals and shocked stares. They obviously hadn’t expected to find a young lady in a tattered gown, bleeding from a head wound.