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  “Promise me you’ll say that to yourselves. Both of you.”

  Castian and I hide our faces behind our wine goblets. I wonder if he feels the same way I do, that so much of what went wrong with Puerto Leones is because of us—because of me. I can’t shake the uneasy sensation I’ve known for years. I owe Puerto Leones a great debt, one I will have to pay with my own blood.

  IN THE HOURS BEFORE DAWN, WHEN THE SKY AND SEA ARE TOO DARK TO SEE THE seam of the horizon, Leo, Castian, and I set off for the docks with Alden, one of the Queen’s personal guards. Her eyes are lined with kohl, and a curling tattoo covers her arms and neck. Her long black braid swings between the short swords strapped at her shoulders. Despite the severity of her appearance, her temperament is too bright for the time of morning.

  “Dock ninety-four is on the other end of the marina, where reclaimed and impounded vessels are,” she says. “Your belongings were moved while you were sleeping. It’s early, but at the very least the winds are in your favor. The Great Tortuga will bless you with strong tides. I can’t wait until the blockades are lifted. I sorely miss being out at sea. Had half a mind to beg my mistress to let me go with you.”

  I don’t know much about sailing weather or the giant turtle the Luzouans pray to, but I will take any luck we can get. The citadela is slowly coming awake as a salty breeze rolls in with the tide. I concentrate on the shuffle of our boots and the squawk of seagulls as we make a brisk pace down the boardwalk toward the ships gently bobbing in the marina. I imagine stepping on the deck and feeling the freedom of being at sea. All at once the clang of bells shatters my thoughts.

  I whirl around to find Alden. “What is that?”

  “The city’s warning bells—only the royal patrols can access them.” She unsheathes her swords and forms a barrier between us and what is to come. “Run!”

  Second Sweep guards storm the buildings and alleys that line the boardwalk. They drag people out of their doors onto the sand. Screams punctuate the cry of seabirds, the unrelenting clang of bells. When I spot a familiar face among the townsfolk, I realize two things: The Second Sweep is not after us, and the Whispers are still here.

  “Ren.” Leo pulls my sleeve. “We have to go!”

  But I’m rooted to the boardwalk as Esteban throws a fistful of sand into a soldier’s eyes and thrusts a sword through his throat.

  Alden is caught between a rebel and a king’s man. She swings her blades like extensions of herself, slashing across thighs and shins to bring her opponents down but never striking a killing blow. Little Luzouan guards spill onto the boardwalk, but they don’t attack. They protect the stores, make curious citizens return to their homes.

  Alden sees us watching and shouts, “What are you waiting for? If the port captains catch you, there is no getting out.”

  Castian tugs on my pack. “We have to get the ship.”

  A new surge of energy shakes me. I look at Esteban, then Cas and Leo waiting for me. Part of me wants to run toward the Whispers, but I never felt hope with them, not the way I have with my boys on this journey.

  So I choose them.

  The sky bleeds with orange and yellow. I inhale deeply and hurry behind Castian and Leo past the melee, keeping my sights on the docks, on the purple-and-gold flags rippling on the wind.

  Hands grab the back of my tunic. I whirl around and slam into someone. We fall on the cobblestones, and I bring my fists up. A man grabs my wrists, and I am unable to move.

  Dez.

  “Hi,” he says, and pulls me up.

  Dez.

  His grip on my wrists loosens. His hair is tied back at the nape, exposing the healed skin where Castian cut off his ear. There’s a new scar hidden behind the scruff of his dark beard, and another across his eyebrow. I both recoil from his touch and then feel myself return to him like the ebb and flow of the tide.

  “Say something,” he whispers.

  Dez.

  But I can’t. Everything crashes over me. The last night we spent together. I love you. I need you to know that. The day I thought he’d died. The time he’s had to find me. The message he scrawled on a bit of parchment because he couldn’t or wouldn’t face us.

  I push him away, but his touch is familiar and solid. I squeeze my eyes shut because a fraction of my mind doesn’t believe he is standing before me, even as he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “Ren,” he says, and something within me breaks.

  I reel back my fist and punch him in the face. “How could you?”

  “Let me explain.”

  Around us, the Whispers have overwhelmed the Second Sweep, whose bodies lie scattered on the boardwalk. Esteban is removing the uniform from the soldier he killed. Other rebels are leading the Sweep’s horses into a line.

  Dez pulls me into a narrow alley between two taverns, and we stare at each other. I can hear my heartbeat roar in my ears as the moment stretches, and I rest a trembling hand on his chest because a part of me doesn’t believe he is here. Dez steadies my hand with his, and for a moment, it is just us in the dark alley. Then realization dawns on me, and I let go.

  “You’re leading the Second Sweep into traps,” I say.

  “It’s the only way we’ve been able to accrue resources for our growing rebel army.” Dez crosses his arms over his chest, rubs his lips together the way he does when he’s thinking or trying not to fight with Margo. “I have to say I’m a little disappointed that you’re not more thrilled to see me, Ren.”

  “I’ve seen you already.” I remember the first memory that told me Dez was alive. “I saw you leaving on a ship at Sól y Perla. I saw you here in the Queen’s mansion. Last night. We’ve been searching for you, but you already know that.”

  Dez looks away from me, resentment making his body tight. “Margo told me that you’d left with him. I didn’t believe it until I saw you in Acesteña. I regret leaving that message. But seeing you together, well, I couldn’t stand it.”

  Him. He can’t even say brother.

  “Did Margo tell you why?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Ren. You should be with us. We’re your family. We’re the ones, after all these years, finally fighting back.” He cups my face in his hands. Warm tears threaten to fall from my closed eyes, but I can’t seem to push him away. Dez is holding me. Dez. “Please let me show you. Things will be different this time. Chasing the Knife of Memory is a waste of your talents and will only lead to disappointment.”

  “How can you say that?” I ask. “You said you would do everything you could for our people. Is this it?”

  “It’s better than the alternative,” he says darkly. “The Knife—it won’t work. Trust me.”

  “Trust you? Dez, you didn’t trust me enough to find me and tell me you were alive. And how can you possibly know that the Knife won’t work?”

  His golden eyes bore into mine. I used to think I could look into those eyes for hours, imagining that’s what it felt like to be preserved in amber. A foolish, lovesick girl’s thoughts. He swallows his words, turns to the chaos on the boardwalk. He’s pleading with me, holding me tighter. I have tried to picture this moment since finding out he was alive, but this is not the reunion I envisioned.

  “Please—trust me,” he repeats. What can’t he say? What won’t he say?

  “You left me behind,” I manage, despite the way my heart breaks. “Stop following me. I’m already gone, Dez.”

  A tear runs down his face. He swipes it away, then steps back, his lips twisting into an angry scowl. “Go with him, then. See the ruin my brother leads you to.”

  Dez stalks away, and I follow him out of the alley. Three Whispers wielding stolen swords block his path. I recognize one from the mountain spring. His eyes widen in mutual recognition.

  “I’m sorry, Commander Andrés,” the boy says, pointing his sword in my direction. “But we have orders to bring her in.”

  Dez swallows hard. His fists go slack at his sides and says, “She is not to be harmed, do you understand me?�
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  “Dez.” I hate the tremble in my voice. He’s going to let the Whispers take me. “What are you doing?”

  The rebel boy advances, then slumps to the ground, an arrow piercing his right eye.

  “Up here!” A figure leaps from the roof and lands in a crouch. There’s a bow in her gloved hand and a quiver of arrows strapped to her back. At first I think she’s one of the Queen’s Luzouan guards, with her two tight braids and burnished bronze skin. But she doesn’t wear a uniform, only the black leather of someone accustomed to hunting in the shadows. “I’ll take you to your ship—there’s no time.”

  I run, and fight the urge to glance back at Dez. I’m afraid of what will happen if I do.

  “Who are you?” I ask my savior, breathing hard as we sprint toward the docks.

  “Someone who needs to get out of this kingdom,” she says. “And I hear you have come into possession of a ship. Saving your life should be payment enough. If you don’t like what I have to say, then toss me overboard. I don’t imagine it would be too difficult as there’s three of you and one of me.”

  If she knows about Cas and Leo, then how long has she been following us? I tell myself to grab one of her arrows and jam it into her thigh to slow her down, but what kind of payment is that when she saved my life? I note the leather across her chest is actually a thick breastplate of something like gator skin. Her body is slender but muscular. She flashes me a feline smile.

  “Deal?”

  Sharp whistles blow higher than the clang of bells, which stop as the sun sits on the horizon. Blue fills the sky. Behind us, a dozen rebels give chase.

  “Deal,” I shout.

  She yanks an arrow from her quiver and aims. Once, twice. She stops to shoot again. I stop only to make sure Dez isn’t among the injured, and I don’t know whether I’m relieved or angry that I don’t see his face. When we turn onto the deserted pier with our ship, I run faster. Leo and Castian are unfurling the single square sail of a cataval yacht in the morning breeze. Cas notices me and leaps onto the dock to uncleat the ropes.

  “Get on board!” I shout at my savior. She swiftly hauls herself onto the ship.

  “Who is that?” Castian shouts.

  “No time to explain,” I yell.

  There’s uncertainty in his eyes as he watches the stranger, but he simply nods, trusting me. He drops the ropes, and slowly the ship begins to drift from the dock. He climbs aboard first and extends his hand. I seize it. With one foot on the railing and the other in the air, I hold on to him and feel everything at once—relief, dread, safety. He is a lifeline from which I may never be able to become untethered.

  We collapse on the deck as the wind pushes the ship into open water. My savior cackles like someone who enjoys the thrill of fighting. I breathe hard to steady my racing heart. But my relief is short-lived. Castian grabs the girl and shoves her against the mast. Leo stares at her with confusion, then at me.

  I try to break them apart, but Leo stops me. “Wait!”

  “Do you know what you’ve done?” Castian shouts.

  Dread gathers in my belly. Who is she? Before I can ask, my savior speaks.

  “I’m Leyre Las Rosas.” The girl grins up at him but doesn’t struggle. “I’m here to kill the prince, and I’m your only hope of finding the Knife of Memory.”

  “YOUR KNOTS AREN’T TIGHT ENOUGH,” LEYRE SAYS.

  “And you’re rather smug for someone outnumbered,” Leo says.

  With Little Luzou behind us and the wind in our sail, Leo and I leave Leyre tied to the forecastle and walk across the deck to where Castian helms the ship. He’s relinquished his illusion, and a deep frown cuts across his forehead, long gold curls blowing in the breeze. Leo’s green eyes settle on me, and though he offers a smile, his worry betrays him.

  “Before you say anything,” I start, raising my palm. “The Whispers were going to take me prisoner, and she saved my life. Now I understand why she wanted passage on our ship.”

  Castian glances past me to Leyre. She flashes her teeth but doesn’t seem concerned. Why would she be? She has her bounty in sight.

  “I suppose now I know what my father wanted with her,” Castian says, stroking the short gilded scruff of his beard.

  Leo draws a small object from a leather satchel. “I found this in her belongings. I’ve never seen a sextant quite like it before. Look at the constellations etched on the sides. Diamonds, too.”

  I take the heavy metal piece. In the miniscule sparkling dots that represents stars, I recognize the precious rock that I’ve known all my life. “These aren’t diamonds. They’re alman stone.”

  “We will get answers from her,” Castian says darkly. “Right now, we have to come to an agreement on what we do with her once we know the truth. After what happened with the tax collectors, Ren shouldn’t take her memories.”

  Leo muses, “But Leyre doesn’t know that.”

  “If we make a threat, we have to be willing to go through with it,” I say. “We can’t very well torture her.”

  “You won’t have to,” Castian says, so softly that his words could have been simply carried on the wind. I understand that he is willing to do this for me, for us. But my mind thinks back to the day when Justice Méndez forced me to watch him torture Sayida. Blood. Screams. The pounding of my own heart. I know Cas has killed, even before he murdered Duque Sól Abene in Acesteña to save me from the pain of my changing powers, but I saw the way it tore through him. I can’t have him do that.

  Leo runs a hand through his soft black tangle of hair. He startles, and I turn to see Leyre striding toward us across the deck.

  “I find torture rather uninspiring,” she says, grinning at me. “I told you the knots weren’t tight enough.”

  She leans her back against the rail, massaging her wrists. “We had a deal, Ren. You’d listen to what I have to say, and if you didn’t like it, you could throw me overboard. Not that I think you have the stones to do it since all you’ve done is tie me up. Rather ineffectively, I’d add.”

  I am in no humor for her. “You already said you were sent to kill Castian, what more is there?”

  “That was one of the things I was sent to do. That was not my proposition.”

  “What do you want, Leyre?” Castian asks, pulling on the mask of the ruthless Bloodied Prince. “And remember, I don’t need inspiration to make you hurt.”

  A sliver of fear must have found its way to her reason because our would-be assassin takes an uneasy step back. “I was sent by the king, it’s true. He wants that knife you’re after and he wants you dead.”

  “Charming man, my father,” Castian says. I hear the chord of pain there and wonder if all children want their parents’ love, even if they are monsters. “This means my father knows I’m not being held captive by the Whispers.”

  I picture King Fernando’s face. That deep stare with eyes darker than his heart. I retrace the scar he left on my chest. It was supposed to prove my fealty to him. I bled for that man as a ruse, but blood is blood. “He’s going to use your death to anger the people.”

  “Why you?” Leo asks Leyre. “I can think of a dozen people who’d like to get away with murdering the prince.”

  Castian balks. “Who?”

  Leo scoffs and counts the names on his fingers. “Well, there’s Alessandro. He has yet to consummate his marriage with Lady Nuria because he does not want to compare—”

  “You’ve proven your point,” Castian snaps.

  “There’s Duque Arias because you took his grandfather’s treasures. Lady Fravela, who commissioned a wedding dress after you smiled at her, accidentally, I’m sure. Lord Sandoval’s son, who lost his eye in Riomar…”

  “Leo, that’s enough,” Castian barks.

  “The high-born of Puerto Leones might hate Castian,” I emphasize, “but they don’t want him dead. Any one of those leeches would gladly kiss his boots for an opportunity to be near him.”

  A reluctant smile tugs at Castian’s mouth. “Besides,
my father would never make someone of their station dirty their hands.”

  “That’s why he thought a bastard girl who’d do anything for her father would be perfect for the job.” Leyre glances back at the port growing smaller and smaller. “King Fernando’s arrogance is thinking I want to be Leonesse. I cannot help what my father is, but I have no interest in taking up his title or having a seat at court.”

  “Then why didn’t you leave when your empress did?” Leo asks, pointing a finger as if he’s caught her in a lie.

  “Because I am a bastard girl who’d do anything for her father.” Leyre sighs. “On the night of the festival, when the prisoners escaped, I broke my father free with two of my friends from the Luzouan naval academy. We left behind a man who was already dead, his face eaten by rats. When the king called me to his apartments, I thought he’d found out and was going to torture me. I was ready to swallow the poison capsule I keep in here.” Leyre brandishes a small black pill before returning it to a hidden pocket. She gives a meaningful look to Leo. “None of the wine goblets were poisoned, by the way. And then he tried to trick me by making me this offer, thinking I was a fool. I don’t want to kill you. I want to help you end the king of Puerto Leones for my family.”

  “Not for the good of the known world?” I ask.

  Leyre sneers. “What has his kingdom brought my mother except heartache and shame? There is no room in my heart for morality. That’s your lot.”

  Castian watches her for a long moment. Clearly he’s made up his mind to let Leyre stay since he’s not throwing her overboard. But can we trust her?

  “Why did you wait so long to approach us?” he asks.

  She grins and props herself up on the side of the ship, giving a cursory glance to the waves as if daring us to push her over. “I have been following Leo since he left the palace.”

  I remember the hooded figure I’d believed was Sayida. “That was you, wasn’t it? At the tavern just outside the castle ruins.”

  “Yes,” she says. “For the purpose of being completely honest.”