Ace kept her hand clutched in Zander’s as she yelled across the deck.

“ENOUGH!” she hollered, her voice cutting through the noise, her eyes meeting Yarrow’s across the tumult. “We surrender. Lay down your arms.”

The fighting lulled. Curious, fearful, and more than a few shocked eyes landed on Ace. The pirates standing in front of her looked outraged at the call for surrender. Theo looked resigned. Yarrow looked heartbroken, shaking their head slightly. But Ace’s expression was rock hard as she repeated herself, her gaze still fixed on the upper deck. “Enough,” she said.

Yarrow’s hands rose slowly as they made a show of dropping their weapons. The rest of the crew followed suit, the clattering sound of metal on wood the only sound for several deafening moments. The sailors surrounding them didn’t see what Zander did—that Theo used the show as an opportunity to shuffle behind Yarrow, quickly pulling something from the satchel hidden beneath their long shirt. His other hand retrieved a pistol hidden in their belt.

Ace’s voice pulled Zander’s eyes away from them.

“Zander.” She reached one hand up to stroke his face. “It’s been a wonderful adventure, loving you.”

A shot rang out, followed by a deafening explosion from the upper deck. Through the sudden haze of smoke that filled the air, Zander saw Ace lift the ivory handle of her blade above her head and bring it swiftly down toward him.

Everything went black.

10

Zander lay in his bed, still too exhausted to move from his position on his stomach. He willed himself to open his eyes, but they didn’t so much as flutter. He could hear the breeze dancing against the shutters of his small house. Someone yelled just outside—probably someone calling after their children.

The smell of a fresh hide, ready for tanning, filled his nostrils. And something else he didn’t recognize. He took a deep breath, surprised to find that it hurt.

No. That’s not a hide.

It was blood. The metallic scent became suddenly clearer, as if his nose was coated in it. The sound that filled his ears wasn’t the breeze on his shutters, but the waves lapping against the side of the sloop.

And the voice… it came to him as if from a distance, growing louder and clearer as he settled back into his body.

Where is it? the voice called faintly.

Zander struggled to make sense of the question, his head pounding.

Where is it? it asked, louder now, persistent.

As the sound grew clearer, so did the pain.

“Where is it, you stupid bitch?!”

Zander’s eyes flew open as a loud SLAP followed up the question.

Standing in front of the damaged mast was a man he’d never seen. He was tall, imposing. His jet-black hair was pulled back from his face, revealing sharp, handsome features. His mouth was twisted into a snarl, and his piercing blue eyes were filled with hatred.

Kneeling before him, her hands bound behind her back, was the captain of The Valerian. Ace’s head was turned away from Zander, still twisted from the impact of the hit. Zander willed his body to move, to help her, but it wouldn’t. He felt his head swimming from the effort alone. Dark shadows appeared at the corners of his vision.

No, he thought. No, no, no.

“Have you been chasing me all over the ocean since I left?” Ace said, her voice dripping with sarcastic pity.

The man hit her again. Zander tried with all his might to get up, but he couldn’t move a finger, let alone stand. He wanted to throw himself at the man, to wrap his hands around his neck and squeeze until the life drained from him. But he couldn’t even groan. His rage only pulled him down, down, further into darkness.

“Where is it?” came a sharp whisper in the background of his awareness.

“It never left Antequera.”

Ace’s words, and the faint image of her back to him as she was marched off deck, bounced around his skull as he drifted once more into oblivion.

***

Zander shot up from the deck, gasping, his nervous system shocked from a sudden and biting cold. He labored for each breath, his heart pounding frantically in his chest. The world was bright and blinding, and he felt as if he should get up and run, but then the dizziness came, and he was once again on his back.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and started, his eyes flying open. Theo was kneeling beside him, his face hovering a few inches above his. Yarrow stood just behind Theo, a bucket clutched in one hand and an expression of concern on their face. They were both sopping wet.

Then it came back to him.

The ship. The compass. Ace. The handle of her dagger, plummeting toward him.

The man.

“They took her!” Zander said, suddenly frantic. “They took Ace.”

He tried to sit up again, but Theo gently held his shoulders, making comforting noises, sounds a mother would use to calm her crying child.

“We have to leave, Theo!” His voice broke, the terror of the past several hours rushing through him all at once. They had Ace. They were leaving. He needed to go, to chase them. Why weren’t they already leaving?

“Shh, mate,” Theo said gently. “We know. You’re in no state, trust me.”

A sob escaped Zander. Beneath the encompassing panic, he knew Theo was right. The number of shocks his body had experienced in the last few minutes alone rocked through him, almost vibrating in their intensity. But as the frantic energy slowly leaked from his pores, a profound exhaustion took its place.

“We have to go get her,” he said. His voice sounded as weak as his body felt.

Yarrow kneeled at his other side. Their face was marked in lines Zander had never seen. They looked worn, sorrowful. They put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“We know,” they said. They looked away, their eyes scanning the sloop, then Theo, then settling again on Zander. “But there’s no chasing to be done. Not yet. The Valerian isn’t fit to sail, and neither are the three of us. If we want to save our friend, we must tend to our ailments as well as hers.” They gestured to the sloop. “We must take a moment to rest. To grieve.”

It was then Zander noticed the exhaustion lining Yarrow’s face. They looked paper thin.

He took a deep breath and nodded. With Theo’s help, he pulled himself into a sitting position.

The devastation he saw around him took his breath away. The mast was badly damaged. Pieces of the shattered railing were scattered here and there. The sails hung limp, lifeless. The edge of the upper deck above the captain’s quarters looked like it had opened into a gaping hole. A longer look revealed it wasn’t a chasm, but an irregular fissure surrounded by a blanket of charred, blackened wood. And then there were the bodies.

Zander, Theo, and Yarrow were the only living people aboard The Valerian. Bodies—dozens of them, pirates and invading sailors alike—lay sprawled on the deck, their blood running back and forth in small red rivers as the sloop rocked gently on the waves. Zander began to cry as he picked out the faces of the crew, men he’d grown to think of as his family. Jurgen. Raphael. Jan. Abdoul. Jubal. Daniel. Aled. He thought of the rest—those that surrendered—and prayed they were safe and unharmed.

It had never been so quiet on the sea.

As he shifted his weight, his hand landed on something cold and hard. Ace’s cutlass. He gripped the ivory handle, squeezing it until his knuckles turned as white as the bone itself. His own sword was nowhere in sight, but he could feel his twin daggers tucked securely in each of his boots.

He brought his attention back to Theo and Yarrow. They were both wounded—Yarrow’s arm was bleeding, and their face bruised. Theo was bleeding badly from his shoulder, and he gripped his side in pain. A thin layer of gunpowder coated his fingers. Zander had so many questions, but just one screamed to be said out loud.

“Who was that man? The one who took Ace.”