Swallowing, she eased upright. She was in her bed, fully clothed, and—

“Finally.” Vaness’s voice slid across her, and on a stool beside the cot sat the Empress, arms folded. Face and clothes still bloodied. “You have been out a long time. Does this usually happen?”

“No.” Vivia frowned and finished rising. She ached, but in an old way. Ancient as the water that had briefly consumed her. It would pass in a few hours. “I’m not sure I’ve ever tapped into that sort of power before.”

Vaness sniffed.

And Vivia had to fight the urge to point out all the blood caked across her imperial chin. Never had she seen the Empress so filthy. Never had she imagined it possible. And most amazing of all, Vaness didn’t seem to care.

The Empress stood, a slight wobble to her carriage—she was no sailor—and approached the bed. She stopped only when her thighs hit the edge. Then she glowered down, fury in every piece of her, and though Vivia couldn’t see the iron bracelets, she had no doubt they skated and spun.

“Never,” Vaness said softly, “do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Command me without warning. Command me without consent.”

Vivia sighed and leaned back against the cabin wall. She had no headrest because the wood was better used elsewhere; she had no elegant covers either. Cotton suited her just fine.

She ran a hand through her hair, still slightly damp. “You are on my ship, Your Imperial Majesty. I am captain here, which means my word is law. You know that. We’ve been over that, and you claimed you understood.”

“That was before you ordered me to run the cannons. Never”—she wagged a finger at Vivia—“do that again.”

Vivia didn’t answer. A flicker of anger spread up her spine. “We would have died if you hadn’t stopped those cannons. We almost did die, even with your magic.”

“And I should have let that iron go all the way through.” She kept her finger stretched long in Vivia’s face. “I should have let it crash to the ocean and watched as we all sank and your Hagfishes claimed us—”

Vivia grabbed the finger. Her lips curled back. “All because you want to prove a point?” She swung her legs out of the bed, covers sliding off her. Still she gripped Vaness’s finger, even when she stood. Even when the room spun and she glared down at the smaller woman. “You would have damned us all just because you did not want to obey?”

A long breath slid by. Then a second and a third before Vaness finally spoke. “I am not your sailor, I am not your soldier. I am the Empress of Marstok, and I will never fire a cannon again.”