“You’re family,” Mihail replied. And we’ve already lost too many. He shifted a little, easing the strain of leg muscles that had been in a crouch position too long. Something was happening at one of the other docks, but he couldn’t quite see around the crates he and Craig were hiding behind.

Craig was right. He shouldn’t have made this last trip, shouldn’t have waited one more day for one man when his cargo hold was filled with people—strangers who had offered him their last coins for standing room in the holds of his ship. But among them was a woman, with her daughter, who had lived close to Durham. So he’d stayed one more day, hoping Craig had gotten out of Durham, too, and had managed to reach Seahaven.

If he’d left yesterday evening, he’d be out in the open sea right now, and Sweet Selkie’s sails would be full of a Mother-blessed wind that would take him back to Sealand, back to Jenny and the boys, back to safe harbor.

If he’d left yesterday…before the Inquisitors’ ships had sailed into the harbor and the harbor master had sent bellringers to make the announcement that no ship was permitted to leave Seahaven until it had been inspected by the Inquisitors and duly licensed as a ship loyal to the barons.

Barons. Bah. Inquisitor puppets. Puppets or not, it wasn’t going to be easy to get Sweet Selkie out of the harbor, and he couldn’t afford to let her be boarded. Not with the living cargo he was carrying.

“You shouldn’t have stayed,” Craig said again. “She’s the last ship, Mihail. The last one.”

“I know it.” He just couldn’t think about it. His brothers gone. His father gone. Had his wife and daughter gotten to Willowsbrook safely, or were they gone, too? How long would it be before he knew? Would he ever know?

Couldn’t think of it. Couldn’t think that way. He needed to think of the sea, of the strong tide drawing Sweet Selkie away from the dock, giving her room to run, to flee fast enough to get past the Inquisitors’ ships and out to the open sea. He could outrun them in the open. Had to outrun them.

First, he and Craig had to get to the ship.

“You—”

“You stayed,” Mihail snapped.

Craig said nothing. What could he say? He’d stayed in Durham, pretending he didn’t see the danger coming closer and closer as he sold off what he could, drained the assets to get as much gold and silver to family members as he could, quietly burned the business records that would have told the enemy where to look for other branches of the family. In the end, he’d escaped by setting the warehouse on fire just ahead of the guards breaking down the door to bring him in for questioning.