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“Your friend’s winds are keeping us ahead of schedule,” Jym said, nodding toward where Galan played with Sharlyne and the giant.

“Good. The sooner we reach the isles the better,” Rivven agreed. “Have you sent out the falcons I asked you to?”

I furrowed my brow. Falcons? But kept silent.

“Yes, and I’m afraid none of the three have returned. I suggest we prepare for the unexpected.” Jym’s voice took on a low, menacing timber that sent a chill ghosting down my back.

Nodding once, Rivven’s jaw worked as he steered me away toward a large, raised area with a dark opening that reminded me of the entrance to his living quarters on his houseboat, only twice as big. Spiral stairs led down a torchlit passage. Once we were deep in the belly of the ship, and Rivven’s sharp eyes had examined every shadow in search of lurkers, he took one halting step toward me, fisting his hands hard. His warm cinnamon eyes made my heart sink. There was so much longing in them, and I felt every ounce of it as well. All I wanted was to melt into his arms even for a moment. But I had to remember whose body this was.

For a fraction of a second, I hesitated, then I took another step forward, not touching but close enough to drink in the familiar scent of ceder and tobacco that clung to him even in the middle of the sea.

“It’s kills me not to be able to touch you,” he confessed, his voice a low rumble in his chest. Something about our proximity in this moment, so close yet miles apart, felt fraught with tension. I cleared my throat.

“Who did you send birds to?” I asked, running a finger along the edge of a lopsided table. I pulled it away quickly when I nearly stabbed myself with a splinter.

Rivven’s hand clenched harder at his side. “It seems the blessed pilgrimage to Synbari has become all but extinct.”

I cocked my head, puzzling this out. It wasn’t an answer to my question, but it brought up so many more.

He heaved a sigh as though the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders. I supposed he’d always felt that way. Then he grabbed a wooden chair from near the tilted table and spun it so that he straddled it, leaning across the back like an arm rest. I followed suit, pulling out a seat of my own, but perched on the edge, unable to fully relax.

“The excursions have been hit or miss since the time my mother disappeared,” he said. “When Balram took her, it was easy to believe she’d disappeared on the voyage. It happened often. Tromodia’s god Darvol has an especially tumultuous personality, much like the ocean he makes his home in, and most believed he’d grown unhappier since the throne was stolen from Tromodia.”

I pressed my mouth into a tight line so as not to interrupt. But privately, I couldn’t blame the god for his anger. I was angry too—at Darvol and the other gods for allowing it to go on so long.

“I knew we’d have to commission a boat, not just because we are being hunted, but because boats no longer run specifically for the pilgrimage. Frankly, most of the citizens no longer seem to care much about religion, customs, and tradition. My people tend to feel…let down by the gods.”

As though they’d heard his comment, the ship lurched upward and down again, sending my stomach into upheaval. I swallowed back my nausea as Rivven continued.

“Stories started around the time I left Tromodia for the Night Forest. The men I hired to help me assassinate the false king spoke of angry seas filled with far more than pirates and mermaids. But as you may have noticed, I was a bit single-minded in my attentions.”

The corner of my mouth tipped up at that. Rivven was the most stubborn person I’d ever met. His whole life had been centered around killing Balram.

“Okay,” I finally said, “but who did you send messages to?” To my knowledge, no one was out here. Certainly no one I knew.

“It’s customary, little spy, to send out falcons to other ships that are on your route. It’s a way for sea farers to spread word of dangers like pirates spotted ahead.”

“You could have just started with that,” I accused, standing.

Rivven rose to meet me. “Yes, but the fact that no one’s answered means either no one dares to go this way anymore at all, which in and of itself is foreboding. Or, that something or someone intercepted the birds, which is even more troublesome.”

My stomach threatened to bottom out with another swell beneath us. This ship might have been far larger than Rivven’s houseboat, but the sea it rested on was considerably more turbulent than the area around the dock. That brought back memories of what I’d witnessed near the beach with Sharlyne, and my insides twisted further.

“Let’s go up to the deck,” Rivven suggested, after studying my face. “It’s harder down below when you’re seasick.”

“I’m not seasick,” I protested, clutching my stomach. But I let him lead me back up to the fresh air where I felt slightly better.

I could wield water, so why was it making me feel so awful?

As if to pour salt on the wound, the water swelled, tilting the ship until it was nearly sideways and spilling me into Rivven’s body. He threw his arms around me to steady me as the boat crested the other side of the swell, and even he stumbled, crashing into the frame of the entryway we’d just walked through.

“Make it stop,” I whined into his chest.

“It’s not the ocean doing it,” he said, voice rumbling beneath my ear.

I looked up, filled with confusion, and he stared back with fathomless glowing eyes. Whatever it was had forced a surge in his fire abilities. This time, when the boat creaked and rent sideways, he planted his feet and held us steady.

A scream sounded from the port side, and my attention snapped toward the area. Devira had landed on her bottom and was scooting backward like a crab as water rushed over the side.