“Well, and then that Nev girl showed up with a fox kit and they both went up to the attic and shut the door behind them, like it was a big secret, and I don’t know about you, I’m sure there are cultural differences, but it was late at night, they’re supposed to have a teacher-student relationship, and I thought it was weird.”

“I have no argument that Quona is weird,” said Giddon. “But it sounds like now you’re talking about something else entirely.”

“I think,” said Hava, “that I’d like to take a look at that attic.”

“Okay,” said Giddon. “I can agree to that.”

“Now,” said Hava, “are we ever going to talk to that boating company?”

“I told Quona we were going to the harbor to check in on our crew,” said Giddon. “If you think we’re being watched, whether by Quona or anyone, we should probably do that first.”

Before the mask of Hava’s Grace came down, Giddon saw alarm in her face, then longing. He thought he understood. Hava loved the ship and its people, but everyone on the ship was touched by the same sorrow.

“We should sail away and never come back,” she said.

To where? Giddon wanted to ask. No matter where they went, Bitterblue wouldn’t be there.

—

The Monsea bobbed gently, her fat dock lines growing taut, then slackening with her movement. Snow sat on her furled sails. Linny, a Dellian sailor, and Ozul, a Keepish one, were in the rigging with long brooms, knocking off the snow.

The familiar elegance of the ship speared him, her teal hull bright against the gray water and her three slender masts reaching for the sky. She wasn’t big compared to other ships in the harbor, but she was graceful, the shape of her hull sleek in the distinctly Royal Continent style. More often than not, he’d thought of the Monsea mostly as a floating house that was going to make Bitterblue sick. Her beauty now made him feel very far from home.

Most of the crew was nowhere to be found, but Bitterblue’s guards, Mart and Ranin, who were staying on the ship with the sailors, came out to shake their hands, looking ashamed of themselves. These two big, broad-handed men would probably live the rest of their lives feeling ashamed of themselves, thought Giddon.

The captain, Annet, was in the wheelhouse, a fur hat pulled over her long, pale hair. When she saw them, her face went quiet. Annet had been among those who’d dragged Giddon out of the ocean.

“It’s wonderful to see you,” she said, holding out a hand to Giddon, then Hava.

“And you.”

“What can I do for you?”