Corayne drew in a sharp breath, a dozen retorts rising to her lips. They died quickly, cut apart by a difficult truth.

“Your father was the same.”

No spine.

The two words caught her like the smack of a wave, pulling her under.

But Corayne refused to drown. And she refused to be caged a second longer, a bird meant to fly, not rot on a cliff with nothing but the wind for company.

She looked back to them, only for a moment. Dom turned and met her gaze, his face filled with luminous, aching hope. Corayne felt it too, the hope she thought had died with her mother’s refusal. It bloomed anew, raw and sharp, bleeding at its edges, but stubbornly alive.

“Give me three days,” she snapped, slamming the door.

The third day came.

At the kitchen table, Corayne busied herself with arrangements, her face a mask. Dark shadows ringed her eyes, testament to another night of poor sleep. Between her half-remembered dreams and hurried preparations for her mother’s voyage, she hardly slept at all.

She stared at her wrinkled and scribbled-over map of the known Ward, using her ledger and compass to keep it anchored. The Long Sea bisected the realm across the middle, in a winding ribbon of blue water that stretched between the northern and southern continents. To the west, it emptied into the Nocturan Ocean, to the southeast, the Auroran. Night and dawn, framing the edges of the known world.

Her inky fingers trailed along the Mountains of the Ward, the soldier line dividing the green fields of Galland from the northern lands and the steppe. Her eyes found a cluster of hills near the Green Lion, the river barely a scribble. It was otherwise unmarked, but she knew—she had been told—of a forgotten temple there. A temple and a Spindle, both torn apart. An impossible thing to believe. She pressed her finger to the spot, staring at the mark on the map where her father had died.

Where, perhaps, the realm had begun to crumble.

As if I really even believe that.

Meliz woke noisily, clattering around her bedroom on still- rolling sea legs before banging into the central room of the cottage. She fluttered around the kitchen without much purpose, checking the cupboards, adjusting the curtains, poking at the copper pot in the hearth.

Like a child begging for attention, Corayne thought.

She refused to give her the satisfaction and double-checked her papers.

“Kastio is late,” Meliz said abruptly, grabbing the pot from the fire. It sloshed with water and sliced lemons, still hot from the burning coals. She poured herself a cup before adding a dash of bright orange powdered root. A rare import from Rhashir, and worth its weight in gold.

She must have truly outdone herself last night to need such a cure this morning.

Corayne eyed the cup as her mother gulped it down. “He has a few minutes,” she replied, glancing out the window at the tiny shack built up against the cottage. It had been Kastio’s home for more than a decade.

“You stay close to him while I’m gone.” Meliz drained the drink. “The roads are dangerous these days, even here,” she continued with a smack of her lips. “Jydi longboats disappearing, summer storms off Sapphire Bay.” She shook her head. “The realm feels twisted.”

Even in our forgotten corner of the world. There had been word of strange doings all over, both good and bad for business. Coincidence—or chaos unfolding?

“Everything is done,” Corayne forced out, folding her papers away. After three days of hard work and too much coin spent, the Tempestborn was watered, provisioned, and ready for the long voyage to Rhashir. She procured passage papers through the Strait and the Ibalet navy guarding it. She sent letters to the allies of Hell Mel throughout the Long Sea, and promised gold to those who might be an obstacle. All was finished.

All but one more thing.

“Take me with you,” Corayne blurted out, grasping at one last hope.

Take me with you or lose me, she wanted to say. Lose me to whatever road I’ve put myself upon.

Most of the time, Meliz an-Amarat had summer eyes, warm eyes. Mahogany flecked with amber and bronze. But now her eyes were cold and dark, still water beneath falling snow.

And her voice was icy steel.

“I will not.”

The road into Lemarta unfurled. Dawn had barely begun, tinging the waters of the Long Sea pink and gold. Meliz walked slightly ahead, leaving Kastio and Corayne to lag along behind. The old man yawned away the last clingings of sleep, his knees creaking. Corayne donned her usual loose shirt and breeches with soft leather boots, worn by the years. It was warm outside, and she needed no cloak or coat, but one dangled from her shoulders anyway. The gloves were already in its deep pockets, tucked away, unused since winter.

She forced down breakfast as they walked, angrily biting into a flatbread greasy with butter, garlic, and tomato jam. Her long black braid hung over one shoulder, thick as sailing rope. Her eyes were wide, focused. She wanted to remember this day.

It will be my last in the only home I’ve ever known.

Sunlight crept into the harbor, too quickly for Corayne’s liking. It was another clear day, with steady wind and currents. A good day to begin a voyage. The cloudless blue heaven broke Corayne’s heart.

Captain an-Amarat walked the pier to the Tempestborn, her hands loose and empty, her back to the port, her face to the waves. Her long, battered coat hung off her bountiful frame, slashed at each side to show leggings and boots. Her clothes were crusted in salt, the veterans of a hundred journeys across the waters of the Ward. There was gray hair at her temples, only a few strands, gleaming like spun silver. She wore no hat and squinted into the sunrise. She looked as she always did before a voyage. Completely free, without weight. Without responsibility. With no allegiance to anyone but the sea.

It was a hard thing to see in a parent. For Corayne, it was a familiar sight.

She reached her mother’s side too soon. Part of her wanted to jump right off the dock and into the water. Instead she steadied herself.

Meliz turned to look at her daughter sidelong. Her face was smooth, her skin golden, bronzed by the sun. “I’ll be back in a few months, just like you said. With enough coin and treasure to keep us for a hundred years.”

“We have that now,” Corayne bit out.

She knew the count of gold buried in the cottage garden, sitting in the vaults of a capital bank, and scattered elsewhere throughout the Long Sea. Coin from her mother’s plunder, coin from her father’s shame. Money was not what sent the Tempestborn to the water, not anymore.

“There’s no end to what you want, to what you do. You enjoy the life you’ve chosen, and you won’t give it up for anyone. Not even for me.”

It was not an accusation, but a statement of fact.

Meliz clenched her jaw. “That doesn’t mean it’s a life I want for you.”

“You don’t get to decide where I end up, or what I want,” Corayne said. All her lists, all her reasons evaporated, leaving behind a single truth. She heaved a breath. “You know I’m not the same as you.” You don’t have the spine. “And you’re right, but not the way you think. In my heart, in my blood—there’s something in me that can’t sit still.” Spindleblood, Corblood. Whether I want it or not. “You know what that is.”

Her mother’s eyes flashed and she blew out a long, frustrated sigh. “Now you want to talk about your father?” she scoffed, throwing up her hands.