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Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Map
  5. Epigraph
  6. BEGINNINGS
  7. PART I
  8. ONE
  9. TWO
  10. THREE
  11. FOUR
  12. FIVE
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. EIGHT
  16. NINE
  17. TEN
  18. ELEVEN
  19. TWELVE
  20. THIRTEEN
  21. FOURTEEN
  22. FIFTEEN
  23. SIXTEEN
  24. SEVENTEEN
  25. EIGHTEEN
  26. NINETEEN
  27. TWENTY
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. TWENTY-NINE
  37. THIRTY
  38. THIRTY-ONE
  39. THIRTY-TWO
  40. THIRTY-THREE
  41. THIRTY-FOUR
  42. THIRTY-FIVE
  43. THIRTY-SIX
  44. PART II
  45. THIRTY-SEVEN
  46. THIRTY-EIGHT
  47. THIRTY-NINE
  48. FORTY
  49. FORTY-ONE
  50. FORTY-TWO
  51. FORTY-THREE
  52. FORTY-FOUR
  53. FORTY-FIVE
  54. FORTY-SIX
  55. FORTY-SEVEN
  56. FORTY-EIGHT
  57. FORTY-NINE
  58. FIFTY
  59. FIFTY-ONE
  60. FIFTY-TWO
  61. FIFTY-THREE
  62. FIFTY-FOUR
  63. FIFTY-FIVE
  64. FIFTY-SIX
  65. FIFTY-SEVEN
  66. TRICKSTER
  67. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  68. Also by Susan Dennard
  69. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  70. Newsletter Sign-up

And once they were fully through, the Iris would be visible. Vivia’s plan for hiding would be ruined. But they were so, so close. She wasn’t going to miss this chance. Oh, the Iris might scrape her hull. Holes might rip through. But if they could reach shore unseen, then the cost would be worth it. It had to be worth it.

“Faster,” she barked at her oarsmen. Then to the witches, “Raise winds.” And then to the water foaming against the planks, Carry us. Timing was key. This was a sharp turn, followed by an even sharper turn after that. Vivia’s strength against the tiller and her magic against the waves would be pushed to their limit.

Do not kill us all, Vaness had said, and Vivia almost laughed at that.

No, she did laugh. She couldn’t help it. The water loved this. Wild, stormy, untamed—the water was reckless decisions and impulsive actions. It was the reason Vivia had earned a reputation for the same fierceness and temper as the rest of the Nihars. People didn’t understand that it wasn’t her, but the waves. She was just a little fox letting power course through her in the name of what had to be done.

“To port!” she screamed as she pushed all of her being, all of her heart into the tiller and into waves. To port, to port. Everything tipped. The sky, so blue, rose up on the port side; the sea loomed in on the right. No oars moved, no sailors moved. Even the world held its breath, each drumbeat seeming twice as long.

Then the ship righted and the world righted too.

“Hold!” Black stone rushed in close. She shoved. With magic, with muscles. That narrow passage ahead—invisible if you didn’t know what you were looking for—was tighter than a needle’s eye.

“Row!”

The oarsmen obeyed. The Iris kicked forward, and Vivia gripped the tiller, gripped the waves.

They reached the gap in the rocks. A wave rocked against them—unexpected. Laughing. And the Iris lurched hard to starboard. Stone thundered against wood. Oars snapped and oarsmen dove sideways. But Vivia already had the tiller moving again, already had her own waves fighting back.

The ship veered. Then settled. Then slowed. No more rowing. No more winds. They were in the passage.

They were safe.

THIRTEEN

Iseult stared at Aeduan, shocked. Elated. Aeduan was here, somehow, and standing before her. A mere forty paces away with only lazy waters to separate them. Except that as she took two steps forward, Aeduan’s forehead pinched. His gaze swept up and down her. His body tensed with caution.

And a strange, heavy heat tunneled through Iseult’s chest. Yes, she had changed since she’d last seen him. She had entered Cartorra a Weaverwitch; she was leaving it a Puppeteer. But surely he would still know her?