my nose, catching my fingers beating a fast rhythm against my sides.
I shouldn’t be this eager. I’ve been on The Duchess nearly every day since I recovered from my fight with Kaven. But as I try to remind myself of that, a flash of full white sails floats in the corner of my vision, and my fingers still.
The approaching ship is one I’ve not seen since Arida took a bite out of it last summer. Somehow the splendid white bow has been mended with Zudian birch, and the entire ship polished to perfection. The barnacles that once ate their way along the wood have been stripped away, and the glossy white figurehead of a seething sea dragon looms over us, larger and fiercer than ever.
Keel Haul is and will always be the most brilliant ship, and as my eyes linger on its captain, I have to bite my tongue.
Bastian’s not behind the helm where I expect him, but seated atop the figurehead, impeccable in a fitted scarlet coat and khaki breeches. His leather boots are polished, and his chestnut hair is loose and curling against the wind. He’s gorgeous, but that’s not what makes my heart take pause and my stomach twist fiercely with desire.
It’s his smile. The same boisterous, cocky smirk he wore when I first met him. The smile of someone who reeks of charm. Who wants to be noticed and thrives off it.
It’s the smile of the pirate I fell for, back for the first time in ages.
“That boy certainly likes to make an entrance.” I ignore the hint of amusement that lightens Mother’s words. “I suppose that means it’s time for me to get back to the palace. But remember what I said—be safe. I’m only a sail away.” She pulls me into her chest without warning, burying me in the warmth of her furs for a moment too long before peeling away, keeping her face ducked out of view. “I’m sorry for this burden, but you’re going to be an amazing queen, Amora. I just know it.”
She’s halfway down the docks before I can process her words, her footsteps hurried, not looking back. If she does, we both know she’ll try to stop me.
I force my attention from Mother’s retreating figure and ahead to the sea. Keel Haul’s sails billow as the ship approaches, and Vataea stands at the bow, her lips moving in a steady chant. Though I can’t hear her, it’s clear she’s commanding the tides as they roll and bend to her will, easing the ship onto the docks beside Father’s ship, The Duchess.
“Ahoy, Your Majesty!” Bastian cups his hands over his mouth to call to me, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. The last thing he needs to do is yell; we can all hear him. “Tell your soldiers to transfer the cargo onto my ship.” He’s got one foot dangling off the dragon, while he bends the other at the knee and leans against it, looking perfectly confident. Perfectly at ease. Just … perfect, really. It’s incredibly annoying.
Though he once told me he wanted nothing more than to take a break from the sea and settle, looking at him now, it’s clear that Bastian will never belong to an easy life on the shore. Perhaps he wanted a taste of it, just to see if it satisfied his craving. But I know what that craving’s like, and it will never be satisfied. His soul is one that’s made to be moving, always on the hunt for the next adventure.
Keel Haul groans as she settles into the sand, and I shove my hands deep within my cloak for fear their trembling will give away how desperate my fingers are to reach out and graze her cool wood. Or how desperate my body is to settle into my place on its deck. To return to my cabin and be lulled to sleep in a hammock, surrounded by nothing more than waves and wood.
No politics. No pain. No fake magic.
As quickly as that wanting swells within me, I snuff it out, digging my nails into my palms to quell the anticipation.
This isn’t meant to be an adventure.
“We’re taking The Duchess,” I announce stubbornly, lifting my chin to watch his brows crinkle. It’s impossible to tell whether it’s with amusement or annoyance.
“No, we’re taking Keel Haul,” he challenges, voice light as air and as overly confident as only men can be. “You want to make an impression on your people, don’t