When she yelled, “Duck!” Corayne was ready, dropping under a swipe from her long arm, with a grin.

“Good!” Sigil cried out, her smile wide, showing big teeth. “Good concentration. You’ve got focus; you know where to keep your eyes. That’s something.” She tapped Corayne on the forehead. “Now duck,” she cackled.

I suppose I should be used to the ground by now, Corayne thought, hitting the grass with a painful thud. She heaved a shaking breath. Sigil struck like a charging horse and her head spun. The corner of her mouth smarted, wet with a trickle of blood.

“Are you afraid?” Sorasa’s face wheeled above her, crowned in dizzying stars.

Corayne didn’t have the strength to lie. “Yes.”

Judging by Sorasa’s smile, it was the right answer.

“Fear is a well-honed instinct, useful as any steel edge,” she said. “It’s kept me alive more times than I care to count. So let that fear in, let it fill you up, let it whisper and guide. But do not let it rule.”

Corayne shakily nodded her head. “I won’t let it rule.”

The assassin looked satisfied. “There are no greater teachers than fear and pain.”

“By the wings of Baleir, what are you doing?”

A blur of golden hair and emerald-green eyes shouldered Sorasa out of the way, pulling Corayne to her feet. She wavered, unsteady, clutching an arm for support. There was pain, but she leaned into it. The pain means I learned something.

Sorasa snarled, a tiger before the hurricane. She jabbed a finger into his chest, color rising in her cheeks. “What we should’ve done since the second we found her.”

Dom eagerly rose to the challenge, snarling right back. “Corayne is the hope of the realm, the only thing standing between Allward and complete destruction.”

The assassin threw up her hands, exasperated, losing her infinite control piece by piece. “Exactly! She should know how to defend herself when we can’t.”

Someone dabbed at her lip and Corayne turned to find Andry standing close, a kerchief in hand, the edge of it stained red. She took it gratefully, holding the cloth to her bleeding mouth.

“It’s fine. They’re good teachers,” she said, stepping between Dom and Sorasa. Almost as good as pain and fear. “Even if I’m bad at almost everything.”

The Elder and the assassin glared at each other, breaking at precisely the same time, turning on their heels to stalk away. Thank the gods, Corayne thought.

While the rest set to cooking breakfast, Andry hesitated, remaining close.

Corayne checked her lip with her fingers, then realized she was probably covered in dirt. She felt oddly self-conscious in front of him, though Andry Trelland had seen her in all states by now.

“Your horsemanship could use some work as well,” he mumbled, scuffing a boot.

When she struck his shoulder, she was careful to keep her thumb untucked.

27

SERPENT

Andry

They boarded the trader at a fishing village, this time under Sigil’s advice. She seemed to know everyone Sorasa did not, and passage on a ship bound for Almasad came cheap.

“Another godsdamned boat,” Dom sputtered, staring into the sea below.

After two days on the water, Andry was thanking his lucky stars that he was not plagued with seasickness, doomed to empty his guts over the side of the ship rail as Dom did. The Elder was better today, but still green as his cloak, his infinite focus fixed on the waves lapping against the side of the Larsian galley. The others gave him a wide berth, though Charlon kept offering him wine, which Dom kept refusing. Valtik said a charm over him, which possibly made things worse. Sorasa ignored him entirely, deep in conversation with Sigil at the prow of the ship, the women as starkly different as night and day.

Sigil was broad and tall, her face turned skyward, reveling in the daylight. Not like Sorasa, who was a shadow next to the Temur wolf. Her lips barely moved as she spoke, her face a mask, while Sigil was quick to grin or scowl.

Andry wanted to eavesdrop, if only to pass the time.

Corayne was certainly trying. She stood as close as she dared, halfway down the long, flat deck of the galley, hidden behind a pile of crates netted to the ship.

She smiled when Andry sidled up to her, leaning against the rail.

“Honorable squire, are you joining me to eavesdrop?” she said, nudging him with her elbow.

His arm buzzed at her touch. “I think they’d skin me alive if I tried,” he answered, and he meant it. “What about you? Have you figured it out yet?”

“I’m smart, but I’m not a mind reader, Trelland.” Corayne narrowed her eyes at the prow, her brows furrowed in concentration. “Whatever she promised the bounty hunter must be big. Someone with a higher price than Charlie.”

Charlie. Corayne’s familiarity with the Madrentine fugitive was no surprise. After all, she was more accustomed to criminals than anyone else. And besides, she spent half the night going through the forger’s seals and markers, trying to memorize them for her own use. They’d become quick friends, the fallen priest and the pirate’s daughter.

“Maybe she offered herself?” Andry suggested. “Certainly an assassin has a price on her head.”

Corayne barked a laugh. “I think Sorasa would sell every person on this ship before risking herself.”

Andry grinned. “She’d sell Dom twice,” he said, pleased when Corayne chuckled again. “But not you,” he added, without much thought. It was the truth, after all.

Her smile disappeared as if he’d thrown a bucket of cold water over her. She turned her face into the wind, searching the vast blue horizon. The sun bounced off the waves, dappling her face in shades of gold. Her eyes remained inscrutable, black as pitch, a hole to swallow the world.

“They all hover over me like I’m some kind of child,” she murmured, her fist closing on the rail.

Andry chewed his words. If he could have conjured a cup of tea for Corayne, he would have. But mint and honey won’t change her circumstance.

“Are they wrong to?” he said carefully, watching her face. Her brow tightened. She didn’t move, but he could tell by the angle of her body that she wanted to touch the sword hidden beneath her cloak. “If you don’t make it to the Spindle, then all this is for nothing.”