Chapters (70)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Map
- Epigraph
- BEGINNINGS
- PART I
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- PART II
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- TRICKSTER
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Also by Susan Dennard
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
All around her, the water seemed to laugh, a buoyant lift in her chest. Of power, of the strength that only water—the most ancient of elements—could provide. It crashed against the hull. Hard enough to steal everyone’s legs. Not Vivia’s, though. She was ready for it, and as soon as the waves collided against the wood, she sent it charging onward. A steed that no one could stop.
The Iris barreled toward the sinking Lioness. Wind slammed against Vivia, magicked and natural and thick with spindrift and cannon smoke. Ahead, the warship was a mess of broken wood and blackened fumes. Fires licked across the deck, and sailors sped like rats.
The Iris was headed straight for it. Faster, faster, higher, higher. And just as she knew he’d be able to do, Sotar leaned into the tiller at the perfect moment. Right when Vivia could see the Dalmotti captain, clad in gold, at his own tiller and bellowing orders while his ship dropped low.
He had witches—Wind and Tide—but they were focused on keeping their ship afloat. They could no more stop Vivia and her ship than they could stop Noden and the Hagfishes.
Screams flickered over the winds and waves. Eyes widened and soldiers gaped at the Nubrevnans rushing by. Vivia smiled. A real grin, alive and throbbing through her. No one could stop her. No one could stop her ship, the sails taut with wind and the hull carried on waves that reveled in their own speed. Faster, faster.
Wood streaked by. The Lioness was twice the size of the Iris, as was the second warship closing in on the starboard side. But it wouldn’t reach the Iris before she was past. No amount of magic could move a ship that did not want to be moved.
And the Iris wanted to move. All Nubrevnan ships did—it was their secret. Why Nubrevnans had kept their shores safe for so long against the empires. They had sleek vessels whose sails were more like wings and whose planks and sails were crafted with Nubrevnan desperation. Not even the Shipbuilder Guild of Dalmotti could match that.
More cannons fired, but Vaness was ready this time. She caught, she launched, and her aim stayed true. Distantly, Vivia heard the drum still pounding and Sotar still shouting. But she was so deeply bound to the water that the beat was meaningless. The words incomprehensible.
Faster, faster.
On and on, the half-galley rode the waves, and on and on, the magic coursed through her. She might not have the Nihar rage—not truly—but she had this. A power no man could ever dominate.