“Wintrow! Bring me Kennit!” Vivacia shouted. Then, even louder, “Paragon, Paragon, we have him! Kennit is here!”

Wintrow exchanged a glance with Etta. The pirate hung silently between them. Blood dripped from his chest to puddle on the deck. Etta’s eyes were wide and dark. “To the foredeck,” Wintrow said quietly. Then he shouted to the crew, “Get us clear of the Jamaillian ship. It’s sinking. Jola! Get us away before the fleet can close us in.”

“We’re a bit late for that!” Jek announced cheerily as she dumped the Satrap to his feet on Vivacia’s deck. Althea caught his arm to keep him from falling. As he gasped in outrage, Jek took hold of his shirt and tore it open. She inspected the dark wound that welled blood sluggishly down his belly. “I don’t think it hit anything really important. Kennit took your death for you. Best get below and lie down until someone has time to see to you.” Casually, she tore a hank of his shirt free and handed it to him. “Here. Press this on it. That will slow the blood.”

The Satrap looked at the rag she had thrust into his hand. Then he looked down at his wound. He dropped the rag nervelessly and swayed on his feet. Althea kept a firm grip on him as Jek took his other arm with a shake of her head. She rolled her eyes at Althea.

Althea stared after Wintrow. Kennit’s arm was across her nephew’s shoulders, Wintrow’s arm around his waist as they dragged him along. She clenched her jaws. That man had raped her and Wintrow had still risked his own life for him. The Satrap took a gasp of air. Then, “Malta!” he wailed, as a child would have cried “Mama!”

“I’m bleeding. I’m dying. Where are you?”

A good question, Althea thought. Where was her little niece? She scanned the deck. Her eyes halted in amazement. Malta and Reyn were working together to take a wounded pirate below. Reyn’s left arm was swaddled in a thick white bandage. He went unveiled and Malta’s head was uncovered. In the sunlight, her scar glinted red. Althea saw her turn and speak briefly to Reyn, who nodded to her without hesitation. He put his arm around the man they had been helping and took him below while Malta hastened over to the Satrap. But she addressed her first words to Althea.

“Reyn thinks I’m beautiful. Can you believe that? Do you know what he said about my hands? That they will scale heavily as far as my elbows, most likely. He says if I rub off the dead skin, I’ll see the scarlet scales working through. He thinks I’m beautiful.” Her niece’s eyes shone with joy as she rattled words at Althea. And more than joy? Althea leaned forward incredulously. Reyn was right. Malta had a Rain Wild gleam to her eyes now. Althea lifted a hand to cover her mouth in shock.

Malta did not seem to notice. She slipped her arm around the Satrap, her face suddenly concerned. “You are hurt!” she exclaimed, surprised. “I thought you were just-oh, dear, well, come along, let’s take you below and see to that. Reyn! Reyn, I need you!” Cozening and coaxing, Malta led the Satrap of all Jamaillia away.

Althea turned away from the spectacle of the unmasked Rain Wilder hastening to her niece’s imperious summoning. She nudged Jek out of her stare. “Come on,” she told her. They hastened toward the foredeck, following Kennit’s blood trail. The beads and puddles of blood looked odd to her. Then it struck her. The wizardwood was refusing it. Kennit’s blood remained atop it, as did the other blood shed today. She tried to puzzle out what that might mean. Was Vivacia rejecting the dying pirate? She felt a sudden lift of hope.

An instant later, it turned to dismay as an immense splash showered her. “That was close!” Jek exclaimed. The next ballast stone hit Vivacia’s hull. The hard wood rang with the impact and the ship shuddered. Althea turned wildly, seeking a gap in the circle of ships that surrounded them. There wasn’t one. The Marietta and the Motley were trapped as well, though they were trying to break free. Another catapult lofted an immense stone toward them as Paragon drifted around the bow of the Jamaillian ship and into full view.

“ETTA, ETTA.” HIS PANTING WHISPER BARELY REACHED HER EARS.

“Yes, dearest, I’m here, hush, hush.” Another splash rocked the ship. “We’ll take you to Vivacia. You’ll be all right.” She tightened her hold on Kennit as they hurried him forward. She wanted to be gentle, but she needed to get him to the foredeck. Vivacia could lend him strength; she knew it, despite the wooden despair on Wintrow’s face. Kennit would be all right, he had to be all right. The danger of losing him drove all doubts from her mind and heart. What could it matter to her what he had done to anyone else? He had loved her, loved her as no one else ever had.