A path to where? I asked. Our silent conversation came second nature now, flowing as easily as my own thoughts, one into the other.
Of their own accord, my eyes dragged back to Hart. I couldn’t see him from here, but I knew that the vessel’s newly christened Captain Rosser stood on his quarterdeck, just as Captain Fisher would pace the deck of her newly claimed Nameless.
Wherever we choose, Tane replied.
FORTY-NINE
The Queen’s Favor
SAMUEL
Bells rang out over Hesten as I made my way down the dock towards Harpy. Unlike our last visit to the port, this time we were housed in the royal docks, and dragonfly lanterns glowed against a deep winter night.
I brushed my fingers across the Mereish coin in my pocket and grasped the folded paper next to it. My heart started to hammer at the feel of the parchment, at the potential of it—both for gladness and devastation—but I suppressed it all and waved to Widderow, who smoked a pipe at the top of Harpy’s gangplank.
“Boy.” The pipe remained pinched between her teeth as she asked, “What do you want?”
“I’m here to see Mary,” I said politely.
“Oh, are you now?” She withdrew the pipe fully and raised her eyebrows. Smoke drifted from her lips into the night sky. “Fine. She’s in the great cabin.”
I nodded my thanks and found my own way through the quarterdeck doors, then down the short passage to Demery’s cabin.
Mary opened it at my knock. The captain and her mother sat at a table behind her, drinking companionably as the remains of their dinner cooled on platters.
“Samuel.” Mary smiled in greeting, but as she took me in a furrow creased her brow. “Join us?”
I glanced past her to Demery and Anne. “Captain, Ms. Firth, pardon me.” Looking back to Mary I said, “May I speak to you privately?”
She glanced back at the other two, her expression thoughtful, but nodded and stepped out into the hall. The passageway was not wide—few spaces aboard ship were—and I found myself aware of how little space was between us.
I decided brevity and honesty were my best tactics.
“Hart is mine,” I said, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Captain Fisher will sail back to Aeadine and officially take on Slader’s Letter of Marque.”
“Will you need to petition for your own letter?” Mary asked.
I started to nod, then shook my head. “Yes, but… I already have one, you see.”
Mary looked at me curiously.
“The Usti queen has given me a commission and intends to dispatch me to the free channels.” I drew a deep breath before I continued, “It seems strange, I know, to work for the Usti, but the queen has her reasons, I am told. And this gave me the opportunity to make an unusual request.”
Mary leaned against the bulkhead, increasing the space between us a fraction and lacing her arms under her breasts. “Oh?”
“I will need a Stormsinger.”
The woman’s face darkened, so much so that I felt a stab of dread.
I hastily pulled the letter from my pocket. “I would never ask this of you, Mary, not without guarantees.”
Mary took the parchment from me and unfolded it. She moved closer to the light leaking from the galley, and I hovered as she read.
“This is a contract,” Mary said, lifting her eyes to mine. “Verified by Queen Inara.”
“A contract for a Stormsinger aboard my ship, Hart.” I nodded, quickly pointing to the stipulations in question. “Stormsingers used to have a guild to protect them, and I have based it off their papers. You may sign on for as short or as long a term as you choose, and there is this clause that allows you to leave if circumstances do not suit you—I left that language very broad.”
Mary was silent for a long, long moment. I heard footsteps pass across the deck above and the clink of glasses from Demery’s cabin, but the hammering of my heart almost drowned them both.
“And the Usti will enforce this?” Mary clarified. “What about other Stormsingers?”
“This is an exemption for you alone,” I admitted. “However… It is a place to start. The beginning of change. We can be an example to the world, you and I.”
Another stretch of silence. My nerves were in tatters by now, but I kept my back straight. I saw more questions behind her eyes and braced myself.
But when Mary spoke again, her inquiry was simple. “Why?”
I had an answer for this, I reminded myself. “Because I admire you, I can think of none better to guide my ship. And I cannot bear the thought of not seeing you again, Mary.”
She eyed me in a way that made my mouth dry—amused, guarded, softening, with a blush creeping across her cheeks.
“Say something,” I pleaded. “If Benedict and the rumors make you reluctant to associate with me, I understand, but please give me the opportunity to—”
“They’re rumors.” She looked down at the contract again. “I know the truth. That’s not why I’m hesitating. This contract will do nothing to protect me from those who don’t care for the Usti crown.”
“I’ll do that,” I said before I could stop myself.
She smirked. “You’re sweet, Samuel Rosser.”
“And,” I added pointedly, “you are a daughter of the Fleetbreaker, the Wold and the Dark Water. After a few seasons of experience, I doubt there will be anyone in this world that could threaten you or the ship you choose as your home.”
That last word seemed to catch her, and the smile on her lips faltered. “I’ve much to learn,” she warned.
“As do I,” I returned. “Olsa has barely given me a moment’s peace. But we will learn, and together? Your power and mine, and Tane and Hart?”
There were more possibilities for me, in Mere, but I did not mention those yet.
I went on, “Together, Mary? We will be a force to be reckoned with. We will fight for peace and protect our shores, and ensure those like Lirr never regain power on the Winter Sea.”
Her smile returned in a rush, crooked and a little shy. “You seem quite taken by the thought of us being together.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I am.”
She folded the contract slowly, then faced me in the close quarters of the passage. Absently, she rested her fingers on the buttons across my chest and looked up into my face. I could tell she was enjoying her power over this moment, and I might have hated her for it, if I had not loved the expression on her face—soft, coy and quizzical.
“Well, then, Samuel,” she said, pushing up onto her toes. She put her lips to my cheek in the gentlest, most excruciating kiss I had ever been subjected to, and whispered in my ear, “You have a deal.”
EPILOGUE
MARY
I sang softly to the brisk, salty air. The tines of the great figurehead clad the fore of Hart as he divided the Winter Sea, and the violet-gold of late afternoon hung in the west. To the east, the rocky northern shores of Aeadine could just be seen. I’d glimpsed them several times since I signed aboard Hart, but the sight still awoke a quiet ache in my chest.
Beyond that coast, beyond the craggy, sheep-strewn hills of the north, lay the Ghistwold and home. I would return to them some day, to the inn and the sunlight on the moss, and the shelter of the yew. But the Winter Sea was before me now, the wind rushed across my cheeks, and a good man stood at my shoulder in a cocked hat and a long coat.