I ruffled his ears. “These words can’t hurt you. I promise. They were written by someone a long time ago who is long dead.” Still, my words sounded hollow, even to me. There was something menacing about the way the words marched across the page.

I shook my head and brought the lamp closer as I translated which words I could. Fewer of the words here made sense to me, except for the last sentences. Here, I was able to translate most words. When I was finished, I dropped the pen, my fingers trembling, dread strangling the breath in my throat.

Alanga will return. Kill. All.

13

Lin

Somewhere in the Endless Sea

I’d never sailed before. In the years since my father had created me, I’d not even been to the harbor. Something of it felt familiar, though. The swaying wood beneath my feet, the spray of the waves, the wind whipping at my hair. Those memories he’d tried to instill in me, working their way loose. He’d burned my mother’s body so he hadn’t been able to grow me from her flesh as he had himself. Perhaps that was why these memories lurked always beneath my surface and had never consumed me. I’d brought my father’s flask of memories with me, along with Thrana’s blood and the machine, though I hadn’t been brave enough to drink any more of his memories, not just yet. The last view had left me feeling odd for days afterward, as if I would look down at my hands and see them at any moment become his hands, his personality layered over mine.

The curve of Riya’s mountains lay ahead, and I could see buildings nestled in the greenery. The winds were favorable, the skies blessedly free of rain, and I’d bid the captain to set aside the witstone for now. We were making good time without it, and it let Thrana and Mephi enjoy some time above-deck. The two of them raced past me, diving into the ocean below. Thrana might not have sailed before either, but she took to it like a fledgling from the nest. Hesitant at first, and then bolder and bolder.

I turned from the rail to find Jovis behind me, his weight shifting between his feet, as if he couldn’t decide whether he should keep walking forward now that he’d seen me here. But I was watching him, and he finally seemed to decide that retreating now would be unseemly. “It feels good to get out of Imperial, doesn’t it?” He joined me at the prow, leaning on the wooden railing.