His brow furrowed. “If only you could see the world through my eyes.”

“I have seen it through your eyes, and it scares me.” His dream of creating a child born of goddess and Magician... If such a thing had ever happened before, I’d never heard of it. Probably for good reason.

“Only because you don’t trust me.”

“Why should I? You attacked my friends, suppressed my powers, held me captive...” I gestured to the ship. “Kidnapped me.”

The knot in his throat bobbed. He poked at his food, pushing potatoes around his plate. “Don’t think I don’t know that I’ve hurt you.”

“Then why do you do it?”

He set aside his plate, stood, and leaned against the rail, gazing at the endless ocean. “My need for you, for what we’ll achieve together, outweighs all other considerations. It must, if I’m to succeed.”

“Le Poing Fermé—”

He sliced his hand through the air. “Le Poing Fermé has nothing to do with this. They have never shared my vision. They’ve always been a means to an end, nothing more.”

“Just like me.” His confession about Le Poing Fermé was an interesting admission. I tucked the information away, more ammunition for my growing arsenal.

His already-fierce expression blazed brighter. The earnestness in his face scared me. He was a zealot, and that made him oh so dangerous. “No, not like you. You are the end game.”

“Until I give you a child. Then I will be nothing more than chaff to be cast aside.”

He grabbed my shoulders and yanked me to my feet. My plate crashed to the deck, but he ignored it. “I would never cast aside the woman I love.”

I’d intended to make Jackie my pawn by using Magic, but he might have been even more vulnerable if I’d simply gone after his heart. What would he be willing to do for me if I let him think there was a chance for us to have a future together? Could I manipulate him that way and not lose my own soul? “You don’t know what love is.”

He released me and stepped back, his face going dark. “My sister would disagree.”

“You’re not asking me to be your sister, though.” I wrapped my fingers around the railing and clutched it until my knuckles pressed white against my skin. The skies had darkened, winds kicking up. The waves swelled.

He eyed the sky and turned his wary expression on me. He pointed at the clouds. “This is your doing?”

“I’m not going to electrocute you. Don’t worry.”

His severe posture eased ever so slightly. “If you wanted me dead, you had plenty of opportunities already.” He cleared his throat. “What you did for me... You saved me. Was there no love in your efforts at all?”

There was a great deal of love in my efforts but not for him.

A dead Jackie might’ve made my life easier, but the thought of murder sickened me. If I started down that path, killing to reclaim my throne, I wasn’t sure I’d know where to stop. That was how tyrants were made—one dark and violent action at a time, all the while making excuses about ends justifying means and sacrifices made for the whole of the good. Eventually those excuses would become lies to rationalize evil, and once I reached that point, there would be no coming back. I would’ve already lost myself. “I only want to go home and try to be a good queen, without outside interference.”

“There will always be interference. As long as you’re the last of your kind, there will always be someone who wants to take what you have.”

“So why not let that someone be you, right?”

He shook his head and backed away from the rail. “We’ll never agree on this.”

“What made you this way?” I followed him down to our cabin to avoid the sudden rain and to prevent him from escaping my questions. “What made you so unyielding? So obdurate?”

He snorted as he slouched on his bunk. “You’re one to talk.”

“I don’t really know you that well. Not the real you.” I crawled into my bunk, the ship rocking us back and forth as rain pattered on our portholes.

“There’s nothing much to say. I told you my parents died when I was young. I grew up taking care of myself and my sister.”

“You’re a survivor.”

He shrugged and picked at his cuticles. “I guess you could say that.”

“You loved your parents?”

A hurt expression flashed across his face. “Of course I did.”

“You miss them?”

“As much as you miss your own father, I’m sure.”

“There was a time, after his death, when I would have sold my soul to get my father back.”

“You think that’s what I’ve done? Sold my soul to get the things I want?” He punched his pillow, molding it into a soft mound to cradle his head. He stretched out and stared the ceiling. “You’re trying to rationalize me, make me fit into your understanding of the world in a way that makes you feel more comfortable. But you’d be wrong to do that.”

“You could do a lot of good in this world.”

“Who says I won’t?”

A knock on our doorjamb cut through the heavy mood. Clarice stood in the doorway, wearing a wary smile. “Anscombe wants to know if you’re going to come clean up the galley.”

Nodding, I pushed myself off my bunk. “I’m coming.”

“They’ll be playing cards after you’ve finished. It’s likely the only entertainment you’ll find for now.”

“Thank you, Captain. I’ll consider it.”

Clarice nodded and retreated down the hall.

“With a little Magic, I could have the galley cleaned in an instant.” Despite his offer, he made no effort to follow me, and his protest seemed halfhearted. “A queen shouldn’t have to wash dishes.”

“A queen shouldn’t have to do a lot of things, but sometimes there’s a lot of satisfaction in a little bit of hard work.”

***

By the time I’d dried and stowed away the last dish from lunch, the storm had disappeared and the ocean had calmed. But the thought of returning to Jackie made me clench my teeth so tightly my jaw ached. The more time I spent with him, the more I thought about what was to come and all the things that could, and likely would, go wrong.

Being with Jackie also compounded my grief over losing Gideon. Again.

I hated not knowing what had happened to him and Brigette. Not knowing if Niffin and Malita had escaped Isolas without the Council’s interference. I’d told Gideon the not-knowing was the hardest part of being separated from him, and here I was, proving myself right—cold sweats, twisty gut, and all.

In need of distraction, I climbed to the deck. Although Clarice was absent, her crew had set up a table and chairs in the sunshine. They’d dealt out cards, betting chips, and cups of something foul smelling poured from an earthenware jug.