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When I step around the forward mast, I see that this end of the ship isn’t deserted either. Little Anya sits on the forecastle, just out of the wind, bouncing a tiny ball inside a low-walled box. She looks up in surprise when she spots me, drawing in a sharp breath. For an instant, I’m reminded of the way Tessa almost flinched when I caught her arm, and something inside me clenches tight.
I hate the way everyone sees me. I’m used to it in Kandala, but I can lose myself in the palace, where no one would dare to send a glare my way.
Here on this ship, the condemnation seems inescapable.
But recognition lights in Anya’s eyes, and instead of cringing away, her features brighten. “Do you want to play with me?”
Not really, but I’m not going to shun the only person who doesn’t look like they want to pitch me overboard.
“Sure.” I drop to sit across from her. Inside the box are half a dozen tiny wooden shapes in addition to the ball she was bouncing. “What are we playing?”
“Knucklebones,” she says.
“You’ll have to teach me.” From the corner of my eye, I notice that Rocco has come onto the deck as well, but he’s keeping his distance. Maybe he can gape at me like Kilbourne was.
“We take turns,” she says. “I bounce the ball and take a bone—”
“These arebones?” I say, feigning horror.
“No, silly. They’re pretend. Now, watch. I bounce it again, then try to take two, and then three, and if I miss, it’s your turn—”
“Oh,” I say, suddenly understanding. “I know this game. It’s jacks.”
“No, it’sknucklebones.”
“Well, it’sjacksin Kandala. I’ll warn you: I’m very good.”
Her smile widens, and she leans in, taunting. “Not as good as me.”
“Go ahead, then. Prove it.”
To my surprise, she is very good. She’s quick and sharp and doesn’t miss until she goes for her fourth set. I quickly see the reason for the box: the rock and sway of the boat would send the ball all over the deck.
But every time she reaches for the jacks—the knucklebones, I suppose—the sleeve of her shirt draws back, and I see those scars across each forearm. They’re not very long, in varying directions, and very straight. Definitely caused by a blade.
I frown, thinking of the cook’s warning yesterday, or the way a shadow fell across her features before she recognized me.Anya doesn’t like strangers.
I think about the fact that Sablo is missing a tongue, or the way Tessa told me about the gutted citadel and the pirates in Ostriary.
I think about that locked room that Rian refuses to open.
There is a part of me that wants to get off this ship at Port Karenin.
There’s another part of me that wants to wait around and find answers.
When I bounce the ball, I realize that it’s harder than it looks on board a ship. I fail on my second set.
Anya grins. “I told you!”
“You did indeed.” I hand her the ball and try not to think aboutthe fact that Rocco suggested that we could use this child as leverage, if necessary.
“Are you really a prince?” Anya says.
“Yes.”
“Why isn’t there a princess?”
“Ah, most likely because I don’t have any sisters.”
