“I reckon they must be.” Jonathan took in a deep breath. It sounded unsteady. “And you don’t sound like him. He always…laughed. Came off as if nothing mattered much.”

Sister Madeleine’s green eyes. Sister Madeleine’s soft mouth. Sister Madeleine’s response to Hæra’s call. “This matters to me. It matters very much.”

“Yes. I can tell. That’s…different.”

“Help me correct his mistake,” Hæra whispered. The full force of her longing was in her voice, but that didn’t have to be a bad thing, if it convinced Jonathan she was telling the truth. “Help me do what he couldn’t.”

“I still can’t believe it happened. I can’t believe he’s real. The things he told me—” For the first time, sorrow and fear left Jonathan’s eyes, and curiosity took their place; she could imagine the young man he must have been forty turns…“years”…ago. Maybe he’d been worthy prey for Asgall after all. “I asked him how he could talk to me. I mean—in all the stories, I know magical creatures can talk to human folk, but I asked anyway. He said he’s tied to the people of this place, these islands, and sure as I could understand him, he could understand me. Same for you?”

“Same for me, yes. But speaking isn’t the same thing as understanding.”

“No shite.” Jonathan laughed a little. Something about it reminded Hæra of the rust on the chest’s ancient dagger, eating away at what had once been sharp enough to cut. “Can you read, too?”

Hæra thought again of the ruined books she’d seen in shipwrecks. “No. Can you?”

He looked insulted. “I might not be much, but yeah, I can read.”

If Jonathan could read, then no doubt Sister Madeleine could too. He made it sound like a basic skill humans were expected to have. And it was one of their primary means of communication. She heard herself say, “I want to learn.”

Jonathan’s look changed to one of astonishment. “You do? Why?”

Why, indeed? The words had come to her impulsively. Why should Hæra want to acquire a silly human skill she’d never need after her goal was accomplished?

Because it wasn’t accomplished. Because it would be something to share with Sister Madeleine, to…talk about.

“Because Sister Madeleine will come back,” she said. “If she knows how, I want to know too. Besides, it’s not that hard, is it?”

“I’ve got no clue how hard it’d be for you. Maybe you’re a bloody genius of an ocean horse.” Jonathan glanced toward the sea. Hæra was forced to turn her head to follow his gaze, which was aimed at the little dock that had started this whole farce. “She said she cut you free from there.”