Then it hit me…I truly was alone.

I’d lost Mama. I’d never feel her fingers comb through my hair again, nor hear her whisper Te quiero tanto, mi vida in my ear. And I’d lost my home and Mercy, too. I had only myself to count on now.

I brushed the wetness from my cheeks. I was going to have to be enough.

The cabin surrounded me like a beautiful tree, all dark gleaming wood, but outside the sea sparkled, no spot of land anywhere. No wisp of cloud in sight.

My reflection flickered in the window. I leaned closer for a better look—and then wished I hadn’t. A terrible bump sat above my right eyebrow, raised and crusted with blood. Beneath it, my eye was so swollen the lids barely parted. It put me in mind of a clam, my eye did. One purplish red in color.

Suddenly I wanted to laugh. Then I wanted to shatter the window. But it didn’t matter anymore what Sewel had done ’cause it was over. I had other things to worry about now. I’d tricked my way onto this brig, but I was sure to be found out—if not betrayed by someone who knew the truth, then by my own coarse ways. When it happened, I’d be ready.

I looked up to the rafters, listening to the footsteps that drummed on the deck above me. Going out there was the last thing I wanted to do, but I had to learn where this ship was sailing and anything else that might help me.

I climbed off the bench and stepped back into the damp petticoat, then tugged my hair into a messy braid. Every muscle in my body hurt. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

Noises came from everywhere. Things creaking. Things thumping. Men’s singing muffled through wood. Everything strange, like a nightmare. One that began with a lone girl trapped at sea with a shipful of men.

I smoothed the red silk that spilled over me, adjusting the heavy gown as best I could and brushing off the crusted salt. My gaze fell to my bare feet. At least those were still familiar—sandy, as always.

Ready as I could make myself, I searched the cabin for a drink to slake my terrible thirst. I didn’t find one, but I did find the broken pocket watch on the captain’s desk. The glass face was gone and neither of the hands moved, but it was silver and would still fetch a good price.

I tucked it into the pocket of my petticoat and added the letter opener, which had slipped from my sleeve as I slept and lay winking at me from the bench. If I was driven off this ship, at least I’d have a way to defend myself and barter for food.

Reaching to unbolt the door, I noticed all the tiny scars and cuts on my hands from meeting nails and splinters and rocks.

Wrecker hands.

Saints…I had no idea how I was going to pull off this charade.