“I’m a year older than you were when you went to sea.” Corayne willed herself to look part of the crew. Determined, confident, capable. All things she was to so many people. So many but for Mother.

Meliz clenched her jaw. “It wasn’t my choice then.”

Corayne’s reply was quick, the arrow already nocked and aimed. “I’m more use on the water. I’ll hear more; I can bargain; I can guide. Think of what the Tempestborn was before I started helping. Aimless, disorganized, barely scraping by, dumping half your cargo for want of a buyer,” Corayne said, trying her best not to beg. Her mother did not move, did not blink, did not even seem to listen. “I know the charts almost as well as Kireem or Scirilla. I can help, especially on a voyage so long and so far away.”

You sound stupid. You sound like a child pleading for a favorite toy. Be reasonable. Be logical. She knows your value; she knows and cannot deny it. Corayne took a breath, quieting her thoughts even as she spoke aloud.

“With me on board your profits will triple, at the very least.” Corayne clenched her fist on the tabletop. “I guarantee you that. And I won’t even take payment.”

There was more to say: more lists to rattle off, more hard truths her mother would not be able to brush aside. But Meliz only stared.

“My decision is made, Corayne. Not even the gods can change it,” the captain said, her voice shifting. Corayne heard some begging in her too. “My love, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Corayne narrowed her black eyes. “Oh, I think I do.”

Something crumbled in Meliz, like a wall tumbling down.

“I’m good at my job, Mother,” Corayne said, stony. “And my job is to listen, to think, to connect and anticipate. You think the people here don’t talk about you and your crew?” She pointed with her chin to the rest of the room, carrying on in their loud manner. “About what you do out there on the open water?”

Meliz leaned forward so quickly Corayne nearly fell from her seat.

“We’re criminals, yes,” the captain hissed. “We move around crown laws. We transport what others won’t or can’t. That’s what smuggling is. There’s a danger to it. You’ve known that your entire life.” The explanation was expected too, another lie of Meliz an-Amarat. “My operation is dangerous, that’s true,” the woman pushed on. “I’m at risk every time we set sail; so is every person in this room. And I will not risk you with the rest of us.”

“The Jydi recruits. They survived, didn’t they?” Corayne asked, her tone flat and detached. At the bar, the pale-skinned twins looked as jumpy as rabbits in a snare.

Meliz scowled. “They joined up in Gidastern. Fled some godsforsaken clan war.”

More lies. She fixed her mother with a dark stare, hoping to see through her. Hoping Meliz knew she was seen through.

“They survived whatever ship you found in the Watchful Sea, whatever ship you attacked, emptied, and sank,” she said.

“For once that isn’t true,” Meliz snapped back, near to spitting. “You with all your charts and your lists. That doesn’t mean you know what the world is really like. The Jydi aren’t raiding. Something is wrong in the Watchful. Those boys were running, and I gave them a place to go.”

LIES, Corayne thought, feeling each one like a knife.

“You are a smuggler,” she answered, banging her hand on the table. “You’ve broken the laws of every kingdom from here to Rhashira’s Mouth. And you are a pirate, Captain an-Amarat. You are feared across the Ward for what you do to the ships you hunt and devour.” Corayne pushed forward so that they were nearly nose to nose over the table. Meliz’s mask was gone, her easy grin abandoned. “Don’t bother with shame. I know what you are, Mother, what you have to be. I’ve known for a long time. And I’ve been part of this, whether you believe it or not, all my life.”

Across the seden, a glass shattered, followed by a roar of laughter. Neither mother nor daughter flinched. A canyon yawned between them, filled only with silence and longing.

“I need this.” Corayne’s voice broke, bowed by the weight of desperation. “I need to leave. I can’t stay here any longer. It feels like the world is growing over me.” She reached for her mother’s hands, but Meliz pulled her fingers away. “It’s like being buried alive, Mama.”

The captain stood, her wine in hand. Her stillness was unfamiliar. And foreboding. Calm waters before a storm. Corayne steeled herself, preparing for more lies and excuses.

The captain did not bother with either.

“My answer will always be no.”

Be reasonable, Corayne chided herself, even as she jumped out of her chair, fists clenched. The pirate captain didn’t move, her stare unbroken and unamused.

Despair bubbled beneath Corayne’s skin. She felt like a crashing wave, rolling over with foam as she broke upon the shore. Be reasonable, she thought again, though the voice was smaller, more distant. She dug her nails into her palms, using the sting to stay anchored.

“You don’t get to make my decisions for me,” she said with great restraint. “I’m not asking for permission. If you won’t take me on, I’ll find a captain who will. Who sees my value.”

“You will do no such thing.” Meliz shattered her wineglass across the floor. Her eyes lit from within, threatening to burn the world down. She took her daughter by the collar, and not gently. The crew took little notice.

“Look around,” she snarled in her ear.

Corayne kept still, unable to move, shocked by her mother.

“This is my crew. They’re killers, every single one of them. Look at us, Corayne.”

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she did as told.

The crew of the Tempestborn were a family, of sorts. Alike in their scarred hands, sun-damaged skin, bleached hair, corded muscles. Similar as brother to sister, despite their varying origins. They drank and fought and schemed as one, beneath a single flag, united before the mast and her mother’s command. Corayne saw them as she’d always known them to be: loud, drunk, loyal. But the warning echoed. They’re killers, every single one of them.

Nothing changed, and yet nothing was the same as before.

Her vision swam, and she saw them as the world did, as they were on the water. Not family, not friends. She felt like prey in a den of predators. A knife glinted on Ehjer’s hip, as long as his forearm. How many throats has it claimed? The big Jydi bruiser held hands with their navigator, golden Kireem, who was missing an eye. He lost it to gods-knew-what. Everywhere she looked, Corayne saw familiar faces, and yet they were unknown to her, distant and dangerous. Symeon, young and beautiful, his skin like smooth black stone, an ax balanced at his feet. Brigitt, a roaring lion tattooed up her porcelain neck. Gharira, bronze-skinned and bronze-maned, who wore chain mail everywhere, even at sea. And on and on. They dripped with scars and weaponry, hardened to the Ward and the waters. She did not know them, not really.