“If anything happens to him, I’ll kill you.”

“Draxen, empty threats are useless. Your brother is in my care, and whatever I decide to do with him will be done. There is nothing you can do to change it. Understand?”

I may have made it sound a bit worse than it is, but I don’t care. After so much time spent near Draxen, he should be glad I’m letting him keep his life.

I start for the surface, following after the two new members of my crew.

Though the pain of our loss is great, I think Kearan and Enwen will be nice additions. I have plenty of good fighters on the ship, but skilled thieves and navigators are hard to come by.

I breach the top and am greeted by the bright sun. It is a fine day with few clouds in the sky. The wind blows my hair over my shoulders. It’s perfect for sailing.

I stop short when I find Kearan frozen in place, facing the stern.

“Kearan?” I ask, poking him in the back. He doesn’t move.

I swivel around so I can look at his face. He’s staring at something ahead. Attempting to follow his gaze, I can only guess he’s looking at the aftercastle.

“Kearan?” I try again.

He opens his mouth, closes it again to swallow, and tries again. “Who is that?”

Oh, he’s looking at a person. I take another look. “Niridia? That’s my first mate at the helm.”

He shakes his head. “Not her. The dark beauty in the shadows.”

I look again. I hadn’t even noticed Sorinda hiding in the shadow cast by the end sail. “That’s Sorinda.”

He doesn’t look away. As far as I can tell, he hasn’t blinked. “And what is her job on the ship?”

I smile. “She’s my assassin.”

“I want her to be the one to supervise me.”

“What?”

“You said I was on probation and I would be supervised for a time. I want it to be her.”

I have never heard Kearan talk so clearly. His words are usually accompanied by the slur that comes with constant drunkenness.

“Did you hear the part where I said she’s my assassin? Don’t mess with her. She’ll kill you before you have time to blink.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem. She can make sure I don’t step out of line.”

Not twenty minutes ago, I assured Niridia that Kearan was more interested in his drink than in the girls. It appears I spoke too soon.

But to be honest, I’m dying to see how this turns out.

“Sorinda!” I shout.

She doesn’t move her stance, but I see her eyes shift toward me.

“Come down here.” I wave her over.

Like a cat, she slinks out of the shadows. Rather than taking the companionway, she leaps over the railing and lands without making a sound.

She is, as Kearan described, a dark beauty. Long black hair. Thin with elegantly pointed features. Though she’s constantly trying to hide, when she comes into the light, there are few who stand out more. Niridia is an obvious beauty with features that almost look painted. Sorinda is like something forged out of nature. One of the beauties that only comes out at night.

She doesn’t answer once she reaches us. She simply waits for me to speak.

Kearan stares at her openly. Sorinda pretends not to notice.

“This is Kearan. He’s joined our crew. Going to be our new navigator. Right now he’s on probation. Will you keep an eye on him for me?”

“I always have an eye on everyone.”

I smile. “I know, but this one is officially your responsibility.”

She sizes up Kearan. Her expression never changes much. It’s always impossible to tell what she’s feeling. But now her lips curve downward slightly. Kearan may be large and ugly, but there’s no denying he’s good at what he does—so long as he is properly motivated to do it.

“Very well,” she says at last.

“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have one more prisoner to see.”

Though Draxen’s ship is bigger than mine, I’ve opted for more rooms up top rather than larger captain’s quarters for myself. Since I actually care about my crew, I’ve had a room fashioned for treating injuries.

This is the one I start for.

On my way, I spot Enwen at the port side railing, surveying the crew. He’s less of a concern to me than Kearan. I’ll have someone keep an eye on him, but that can be sorted out later.

Mandsy leans over the cushioned table in the room, where Riden lies on his back, asleep. His breeches have been sheared at the thighs to allow easy access to the pistol wounds. The room smells of ointments and blood.

“How is he?” I ask.

“Things are looking really good, Captain. The ball has already been removed from his thigh. The shot at his calf went clean through. I bandaged him up as best I could, including the lighter cuts and stabs on his arms.”

Something inside me relaxes, and breathing comes more easily. “Good. Has he been conscious at all?”

“Yes. He woke up once and looked at me funny.”

“Did he say anything?”

“He said, ‘You don’t have red hair.’ Then he fell back asleep.” She smiles knowingly. “He was awfully disappointed I wasn’t you, Captain.”

“Nonsense. There are plenty of redheaded women.”

“If you say so.”

“Alosa?” The voice is faint and unsteady.

“Riden.” I step up to the head of the table so I’m in his line of vision.

“I’ll just leave you two for a moment,” Mandsy says.

“Yes, thank you, Mands.”

She closes the door behind her.

His face is pale, but his chest still rises and falls, filling with air then releasing it. I never truly appreciated that motion until now. His arms and legs are covered in bandages. There’s barely more skin than white strips of cloth.

“How do you feel?” I ask.

“Like I got shot. Twice.”

“If you weren’t so injured already, I’d beat you for what you did back there.”

“Freeing us?”

I shake my head. “No, you idiot. Getting yourself shot! Twice!”

“Pain goes away eventually,” he says. “Death is permanent.”

“You’re awfully lucid for a man who was shot.”

He smiles before his face turns to seriousness. “I’m sorry for what those men did to you. I can’t possibly know how awful it was for you, but I imagine it was horrific.”