“Apparently so,” she said, extending and retracting her talons.

“Then maybe it’s time you got properly dressed,” Marie said. She nodded to Rebecca.

“Right. I’ll go get the package,” Rebecca said, and zipped out the door.

Isabelle gave Marie a suspicious look. “What package?”

“When we were back on Flotsam, we decided that if you were going to be a pirate capitaine, you might as well look the part. Now that you’ve finally run out of reasons to punish yourself sartorially, it’s time to get you fitted and kitted. Besides, Rebecca needs the practice.”

Isabelle sat by Bitterlich’s bedside, wondering when or if he would wake up. This healing state was so terribly quiet. She wasn’t even sure by what method he was breathing. What if his body didn’t have the resources to repair itself? He’d lost so much blood.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” she said, as suppressed fears and hopes found their voice. “You know I’m really proud of you, the way you’ve taken on Rebecca. You really make a good father. I … I also think you’d make a good husband. I mean yes, you need to get it through your thick skull that you don’t have to be perfect to be special. I don’t want perfect. I want you.”

Ridiculous, Primus said. Marriage is a tool of politics. Leveraged properly, it can shift the power of kingdoms. It is not a plaything for lovers.

There is a time and a place for your opinion, Isabelle replied. This is not it. She’d spent many hours playing confessor to all her ancestors, slowly bringing them around to her way of thinking, or at least her sense of priorities. It was a work she suspected would never be entirely finished, but that did not mean she had to spend every waking moment dealing with them.

“Ship!” cried the lookout, and Isabelle’s pulse lifted up into a trot.

She squeezed what she took to be Bitterlich’s shoulder, reassured by its warmth and life. Then, on impulse, she kissed him where his cheek might be.

His form shuddered, and his lips manifested to meet hers. Startled, she lurched back to see him emerge from his chrysalis face-first, unfolding and refolding into his erstepelz. His eyes opened and he let out a long breath. “Hello, beautiful. Have you seen Capitaine Isabelle?” His sloppy grin suggested this was supposed to be a joke.

She glowered at him. “And here I was, just saying nice things about you.”

“I’m sorry I missed that. How long have I been gone?”

“About two days.”

“That explains the hunger,” he said. “And the headache. Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”

“Sooner? If you were recovered…”

“Not recovered so much as out of danger,” he said. “It’s still going to take me a while to mend all the pieces. The problem with the deep-healing chimera is that it’s made up of a bunch of creatures who are collectively a few lobes short of a brain. My mind more or less shuts down while I’m in that state. I’ll wake up eventually, once I get hungry enough, or I can set myself a trigger.”