Giddon’s laugh rang out somewhere nearby. She looked for his tall, solid form, wanting to tuck herself into his body for warmth, for protection from the wind. Giddon would be with her for the entire trip, making her laugh, helping her care for Hava, giving her his honest opinions when she asked. She hadn’t believed that the Council would let Giddon go. She’d written beautiful thank-yous to Raffin, Bann, Po, and Katsa. Bitterblue felt greedy, like she’d stolen him.

He was in the bow, talking to the captain and one of Bitterblue’s guards, the ship’s cat winding around his feet. A rose glow from the eastern horizon touched his face. She heard snatches of his voice, thrown back to her by the wind.

She wouldn’t interrupt. Clinging to whatever she could grab as the floor bucked, she edged onto the afterdeck and looked out over the water behind them. This very same water was touching the water that touched the water that lapped up against the docks and cliffs and hills of her very own nation, her home. Somewhere in the world, back the way they’d come, was a place where the ground was solid beneath her feet, where she knew what she was doing. More than that: Monsea needed her. She was the keeper of its people, no matter where they roamed. She would find out what had happened to Mikka and Brek, her two men.

She saw a wave rolling toward the ship, bigger than the others. Much bigger, she realized with a blip of surprise, just before the ship ducked to meet it. The deck surged up, then fell, the sailors in the bow shouting their amusement, everyone unhurt, everything in its proper place, as always; except that Bitterblue was gone.

—

In the water behind the ship, Bitterblue shouted and screamed. But the wind bore the ship and her words away, and nobody heard her.

It seemed impossible. “Giddon,” she shouted, thrashing and flailing, absolutely incredulous that they didn’t realize they were leaving her behind. “Giddon!”

She swam after them. They’ll see I’m missing, she thought. They’ll turn around. But the waves lifted her regularly as she swam, giving her a view of the vanishing ship, and nothing changed, except that she got colder, and more flabbergasted.

“What do I do?” she cried. “Giddon!”

Still in a state of disbelief, she kept swimming.

—

Bitterblue shook with cold. She was still swimming, more or less. Trying to stay above water, trying to continue on a straight path, feeling like she’d swallowed half the ocean, icy pain throbbing in her ears. Had they noticed yet that she was missing? Didn’t anyone ever check on the queen? How could they be so careless?