Rylander watched me accept the gesture, lips twitching. He took her other hand and grabbed a basket full of flowers from their blanket. We journeyed back to the palace along the cobblestone path. Savina stoked a conversation all on her own, chatting without any regard for our lack of response or the unease hanging between us. She relived her day, prattling about the pink dress she’d picked to wear this morning, the variety of flowers she’d gathered for her mother’s bouquet, Rylander’s story time. She went on and on, just content to have an audience.

When we reached the palace entrance, Rylander knelt before Savina. He took her hands into his and kissed each one, then pressed them together at his heart.

“Little Rose, we set sail tomorrow on that adventure I told you about.”

Savina’s head twisted back and forth like he’d offered up her least favorite food on a fork. Her pouty lips jutted and started to tremble.

“I will be back for you. You know that right?”

She sniffled, wiping the back of her hand under her nose.

“I’ll stay in Cava longer next time. I promise. We’ll take carriage rides, go to the market, have tea, and lots more stories in the garden.” Rylander cleared his throat, but I’d heard the quaver in his voice. “I love you very much.”

“I love you,” Savina said through hiccups. Her small arms squeezed his neck, and he patted her bobbing back.

His own eyes glassed over as he said, “You be good for Olivine and Delphi.”

“I will.” She released his neck. Tears clung to her lashes.

My already wrenched heart gave a ferocious twist. Rylander’s love for this little girl went beyond adoration of his king’s offspring. She was something else entirely. I almost wondered…

Could Savina be his daughter?

I scrutinized her features.

He tickled her with the admonishment, “No more blubbering, beautiful one.”

Her lips pulled upward in the same bright smile, and an identical dimple appeared in her right cheek. The slope of their noses mirrored each other perfectly. But the hair wasn’t his, nor the eyes. They were Queen Olivine’s. But she hated Rylander. Was that why she hated him? Was she a woman scorned?

I shook my head to clear thoughts of them entangled. Battered by merciless waves of confusing, shifting emotions, and lacking in those particular sorts of sea legs, I sucked in a breath and departed to my rooms with a nod.

The next day, my crew and the seven hand-picked members of The Sea Singer boarded The Freedom and set sail, leaving Cava in our wake. Bernard and Naven helped Via hoist the sails, while the other crewmembers tightened the riggings. Krinny and Ketner barked directions from the helm to keep everyone working in tandem.