I struggle toward the stairs, but it is no use. Hissing fills my ears. When I look behind me again, Caldora’s hands reach for me, fingers curled into claws.
I jolt awake at the ominous blare of a horn from above deck. Sunlight streams in from our porthole. The storm has passed, although the waters are still choppy. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and try to still my pounding heart. The whispers are stirring, but their voices are muted, and after a few seconds, they fade away entirely. My fingers shake as they run along the fabric of my pillow. This feels real. I hope it is. A part of me yearns to go back to the Fortunata Court, to throw my arms around Enzo and will him back to life—but another part of me is afraid to blink, lest I return to the Underworld’s waters. Even glancing out the window sends a ripple of fear through me—the water is a dark, opaque blue, eager to swallow a ship.
I look to Violetta’s bed. She’s not there.
“Violetta?” I jump to my feet and hurry to the door. I make my way through the dark, cramped passageway of the ship’s belly. My sister. She’s gone. My nightmare comes back to me—the scorched, endless hall—and suddenly I’m terrified I’m still lost inside it. But then I reach the ladder leading to the deck, and I climb it gratefully.
When I peek over the top of the ladder, I see Violetta at the bow of the ship, leaning over the rails and talking in a low voice to Sergio. My limbs turn weak with exhaustion. I take a deep breath, calm myself, and pull myself up onto the deck. Several other crewmembers give me long looks as I pass by. I wonder which of them are also mercenaries, and whether Sergio has told any of them about our conversation from yesterday.
As I draw near, Sergio puts a hand on Violetta’s arm. He laughs at something she says. A feeling of jealousy runs through me. It’s not that I want Sergio’s attention—but rather that he is attracting Violetta’s. She is my sister.
“What was the horn for?” I ask. I purposely push between them, forcing Sergio to take his hand off my sister and assume a more distant stance. Violetta shoots me a sullen look. I blink innocently back at her.
Sergio points toward the outline of land on the horizon, still faint through the morning mist. “We’re nearing the city of Campagnia. Have you been there before?” When I shake my head, he continues, “It’s the closest port city to Estenzia. My guess is that we’re not going to be greeted with open arms in the capital. It’d be impossible to dock.”
Violetta nods in agreement. “Adelina’s illusions are good,” she says, “but she can’t protect all of us forever from the number of Inquisitors in that city.”
Estenzia. Somehow, it feels as if we left the capital a lifetime ago.
Sergio just shrugs it off as we watch the outline of a city gradually appear on the shore. “We’ll dock in Campagnia soon,” he reassures us. “They haven’t passed any mandates outside of the capital that I know of. It’ll be safer.”
I nod. Sergio falls back into a conversation with Violetta. As they talk, I look around the deck. “Where’s Magiano?” I ask.
Sergio’s eyes roll skyward. “In the crow’s nest,” he replies, pointing up. “Gambling away his life’s work.”
On cue, a perfect imitation of a crow’s caw sounds out. We all glance up to see Magiano above us, leaning so far forward that I’m afraid he’ll topple right out. He’s shouting something at the other sailor in the nest.
“I’ll make that twenty gold talents, then,” he calls out, leaning back into the nest and out of sight.
“Is he … winning?” Violetta asks, squinting up at the sky. We look on as Magiano mutters a train of words to himself. A half-mad thief and a rejected Dagger—I’m certainly off to a good start in building my Elite society.
Sergio shrugs. “Does it matter? If he loses, he’ll just steal the poor bastard’s winnings, anyway.”
Suddenly, the sailor Magiano is playing hops up to his feet. He points out at the water. Magiano cranes his neck toward land too, then shouts something down to Sergio that I can’t make out.
Sergio bites his lip. I watch him, noting the tiny sparks of fear coming off him. I stare hard into the mist. For a long moment, none of us can see anything. Only when the morning sun burns away more of the mist do I detect the faint outline of golden sails, the curving hull of a ship sailing out of Campagnia’s harbor. The sound of horns floats toward us again. This time, they’re deafening.
Overhead, Magiano grabs the rope attached to the crow’s nest and glides down the mast. He lands with a light thump. His hair is in wild disarray, and the salty smell of ocean permeates his clothes. He gives us a passing glance. “An Inquisition ship,” he says when he sees my questioning expression. “Looks like they’re heading straight for us.”
“You saw the Inquisition’s flag on them?” I fold my arms and try to swallow the fear building in my throat. “But we’re a completely common-looking ship.”
“We’re also the only ship passing the bay right now,” Magiano replies. He frowns out at the water. “Why would they care if a cargo ship’s making its way to Campagnia’s port?”
The Inquisition’s ship is getting closer. Something about the sight of its familiar emblems stirs the whispers in my head, and they shuffle their little claws, restless. The fear in my throat gives way to something else—a wild courage, the same thing I felt when I confronted the Night King.
A chance at revenge, the whispers say over and over. Adelina, it’s a chance at revenge.