Something moved, on the deck. Marcus blinked and looked down—the shadow of the foremast, cast by the bow lantern, slanted right beside where Nell was excitedly recounting the story of her encounter with the Patriot to Raesinia. A long, sharped-edged shadow, and right at the edge of it . . . a hand?

Marcus’ perspective swam. A black-gloved hand, gripping the lit part of the deck. Then, in one swift movement, a lithe, dark form pulled itself out of the shadow of the mast like a swimmer hoisting himself out of the water. Marcus caught the glitter of obsidian and started to scream a warning.

Too late. The newcomer grabbed Nell’s arm and used it pull himself to his feet, sending her staggering in front of him. As part of the same, elegant motion, his other hand drew a long knife across her throat, leaving a spray of arterial blood in its wake. Raesinia was just starting to turn when the man spun, slamming a balled fist into her midsection. As she doubled over, he grabbed her hair, jerking her head back, and brought his knife up to her throat.

“Hello, Colonel.” Ionkovo’s voice. His face was obscured behind the faceted obsidian mask of the Penitent Damned.

Damn, damn, damn. Andy, still lying at the rail, rolled over and froze. There was smoke trickling from the barrel of her musket, which meant that she’d already fired. George was over the side already, Brask and Walnut helping Gavin at the stern. Nell, eyes very wide, took a couple of tottering steps and then keeled over like a collapsing drunk, a crimson pool of gore forming from the weakening pulses from her neck. Her heels drummed a tattoo on the deck, then stilled.

“Not a bad plan,” Ionkovo said. “But I don’t see how you expected to get away with it. A suicide mission, perhaps?”

Raesinia was gasping for breath, knife pressed against the soft skin of her throat. But her hands were moving, one clutching the other. She drew one finger down the other palm, over and over, but it took him a moment to realize what she meant.

That night, at Twin Turrets. She’d drawn the knife across her palm, to demonstrate her power. “I can’t die.” Raesinia’s eyes found Marcus’, and her gaze was fierce. Don’t do anything stupid.

Marcus met Ionkovo’s gaze, eyes sunken behind the gleaming mask. There was a steady malevolence there, but also a touch of morbid humor. He knows. But he doesn’t know that I know.

Without moving his head, Marcus glanced at the stern. Brask and Walnut had already taken Gavin over the side, and he could see Viera at the rope ladder. She took one look at the frozen tableau on the deck and started climbing down to the boat. Smart girl.