Evie


    Evie Sage had only seen the Lc Sea once as a child.


    It had been on her sixth birthday, the sky had been clear of any clouds, and the funniest little birds had swooped down to steal a piece of her cake. Her father had yelled to shoo them away, kicking up sand as he went, face red with anger, but Evie hadn’t been angry at all.


    When her father slipped away with Gideon to fish, Evie cut thergest piece and snuck over to the little cove where the gray birds pped and cooed. She’d slid down the rock to dip her toes in the water, thinking she’d never seen anything so purple.


    “Excuse me?” She’d cautiously attempted to get the birds’ attention. All at once, they had turned toward her, ready tounch at the frosting-covered pastry in her hands, and then halted. Perhaps remembering her angry father tearing after them, scaring them.


    Evie hated to be scared.


    “It’s okay.” She’d smiled, dropped to her knees. The sand was soft beneath the thin dress she wore. “There’s enough for all of us.” Ripping off a piece, she tossed it to the nearest bird. It crept forward and snuck a bite, and Evie saw that arge notch of feathers was missing on its left wing—a wound that had never healed. “Did someone hurt you, little bird?” she asked, her soft heart squeezing painfully.


    The bird hopped forward, pecking lightly at her palm, so she gave it another piece and it nudged its head into her hand. “My mama says scars are signs we’ve lived bravely.” She stood and curtsied. “You are a valiant guard to me.”


    She’d spent the rest of her birthday feeding the birds and watching the Lc Sea ebb and flow, so open, so mysterious.


    It was the best birthday she’d ever had.


    Although this one was proving to be the most interesting.


    Evie, Trystan, Tatianna, and re rode down to the docks, hoods over their faces for anyone who looked too closely. They couldn’t afford to be stopped again. Kingsley was growing less and less respondent, and in turn the boss was growing less and less patient.


    They’d made it to the docks, riding in silence the whole way. Evie entertained herself by watching Tatianna and re exchange longing nces back and forth. The midday sun was hotter this close to the coast, and she felt it burning against her bare arms as she dismounted and handed her reins to Trystan, who didn’t spare her a nce as he flicked a coin to the local stable hand to keep them safe until they returned.


    “His ship will be toward the end of the docks,” Trystan said gruffly, staring forward.


    “How will we know which is Tati’s father’s?” Evie asked, angling her head curiously at a nondescript ship with a group of men hooting and hollering at the five of them as they passed. Trystan grabbed her gently by the shoulders and moved her to the other side of him, away from the boat, and made a strange noise in the men’s direction.


    The men fell silent and averted their eyes.


    “Sir…did you just hiss?”


    “No. I had something stuck in my throat.” His voice was strangled as he nudged her forward. “Keep going. You’ll know the boat when you see it.”


    “What do you—”


    Ah, of course.


    The boat was pink.


    “I can’t believe this is happening.” Tatianna groaned into her fingers, and re tentatively brushed a hand across her shoulders.


    A boisterous voice called from the crow’s nest above, which was gilded in gold and light-fuchsia hues. A man jumped down, tall and muscr, removing a jacket that was, well—also pink. “Angel bird!” A ramp lowered to the dock, and the man sprinted toward them, then lifted Tatianna from her feet and swung her around…and she allowed it. “I’m so happy to finally be able tomit a crime with you!”


    He removed his bright hat, which had a few feathers stuck into it, and held it to his chest. His face was handsome and graced with age lines, his headpletely devoid of hair, brown skin glistening with sweat from the heat.


    Tatianna groaned. “Daddy, you’re notmitting a crime.”


    Tatianna’s father winked at the rest of them, holding up a hand, mock whispering, “But I’m at least an essory, right?”


    Evie choked on augh and, when Tati turned to re at her, stepped closer to Trystan’s side.


    “rissa!” He kissed both of re’s cheeks, and she beamed at the man she’d known for most of her life. “Are you two back together yet?”


    “Dad! Gods damn it all,” Tatianna screeched. “I’m boarding the ship. Tell me when we’re leaving.” Tati trudged up the nk and hopped aboard, her attire matching the exterior. re gave Tatianna’s father a big hug and followed quickly after the healer, as if pulled by an invisible string.


    The older man turned his attention on Evie, his brown gaze warm, his smile inviting. “Evie Sage, I take it?” He grabbed her hand, and Evie waited with expectation for a handshake or a bow. What she did not anticipate was the man pulling her into his arms and hugging her with the familiarity of family. “Oh, what a joy it is to finally meet you. Tatianna writes of you so often, I feel as if I know you already! Another daughter to add to the roster, to be sure. I’m Jones, but I let the kids call me Jellyfish Jones. So may you.” Heughed at her confused expression. “They found it amusing when they were young, after I got stung.” He winked at her, smelling of the sea and something warm she couldn’t ce.


    Affection, perhaps.


    Mortifyingly, Evie felt tears prick at her eyes as she returned the gesture, released just in time for her to wipe a drop that slid down her face, but when she looked up, Trystan was watching her sharply.


    She looked away.


    “And Trystan!” Anotherrge hug was initiated, and Trystan froze under it. “My boy, look at all you’ve aplished! A business owner!”


    The boss sent a warning nce over Jones’s shoulder that said, Bring this up ever again and I will make you regret it.


    She lifted her brow as if to say, You know I will anyway.


    His lip twitched—a sh of a dimple, a beat of her heart.


    “All aboard!” Jones said, nudging the two of them up the tform, and when she stepped foot aboard, it felt like entering a new world. Onepletely constructed to Tatianna’s tastes.


    “It’s so…”


    “Pink,” Trystan finished with a rare spark of amusement.


    “It’s Tatianna’s favorite color,” Jones exined. “When I have to travel to different ports for work, it helps me think of her, and then I don’t miss her so very much.” He threw an arm around Tatianna, and she smiled, leaning into his side with begrudging affection.


    “You could’ve just painted the steering wheel, Dad. This was over the top,” Tatianna pointed out with yful teasing.


    Captain Jones had painted his entire ship pink to avoid even the slightest twinge of missing his daughter.


    This is it. This is the love of a father, Evie thought painfully, putting a hand to her stomach to stop the churning. “That’s so sweet.” It was.


    “Lift the anchor!” Captain Jones yelled, jumping from doting father to professional seaman in seconds.


    The ship lurched into movement as it treaded out into open water. The lighter purple hues of the sea turned darker the deeper they moved, and, despite the heat, Evie shivered.


    “Captain Jones,” Trystan said after a few minutes of sailing, “Sage and I would like use of the restroom. It is still in the same ce, I take it?”


    Captain Jones waved a hand, nearly dragging Tatianna to steer. re followed dutifully behind them, and Kingsley hopped onto Captain Jones’s shoulder, holding up a sign.


    Missed


    “Oh, I missed you, too, Alexander,” Jones said, fondly patting the top of the frog’s head.


    So much love. Unconditional and unfettered. It was so beautiful and—


    So far out of reach.


    “The restroom, Sage? I have to go very badly.” Trystan’s words sounded clipped and strange, even by Evie’s standards.


    “You can’t wait until we’re farther out into the water?” she asked. “And why do I need to escort you?”


    Some of the crew, who up until then had been busy with other tasks, watched The Viin now with shrewd curiosity. “No…I ate some bad…turnips.”


    Evie felt with an intense confidence that The Viin had never touched a turnip.


    She followed him anyway.


    Theughter from the crew was clearly at Trystan’s expense. He didn’t seem to care. Just strutted like he hadn’t insinuated that his bowels were on the verge of exploding as he climbed down the narrow stairs, holding his hand out for Evie’s, the skin-to-skin contact sending shock waves up her arm.


    His fingers tightened on hers as he pulled her down the narrow hallway, walking with the confidence of someone who knew the space well.


    “Sir, you know I’m a proponent of oversharing, but your restroom habits are taking it a little far even for meee—” She squealed as he tugged her into a little room filled with empty hanging bunks in neat rows.


    He was stern when he faced her, his beautiful face hard and cold. She shivered and held her arms, feeling his dark eyes prate her skin and prick at the edges of her heart. “You seemed to need privacy. I didn’t wish to embarrass you by pointing it out.” The exnation wasn’t delivered with depth of feeling or flourish. It was matter-of-fact and logical.


    The only man, surely, who could make reason sound so heart-wrenchingly romantic.


    “I’m being selfish,” she admitted, knowing he wouldn’t judge her, knowing he was the safest person in the world for her to express even her darkest thoughts. “Tatianna’s father is wonderful, and she deserves a parent like that. I was just overwhelmed by it… By the abysmal affection I’ve settled for all my life. I feel embarrassed.”


    No, she ordered herself, tilting her head up, blinking hard at the ceiling, focusing on the chipped wood and the gentle rocking of the ship.


    “Sage.” She watched in her peripherals as he nced up at the ceiling as well. “Are you looking for something up there? Or are you suffering from sudden neck stiffness?” he asked dryly.


    Sheughed even as the tears burned, and she furiously blinked them back. “I’m so tired of crying. I’m hoping this sucks them back behind my eyes.”


    Warm hands sped her cheeks, and she could only stare in awe as they tilted her chin back down to the floor. His mouth was tight, but his brow was furrowed, his eyes searching. “Cry.” Her body followed the order, as if hemanded her faculties and not she. “And if anyone says a word to make you feel ashamed of it, I’ll drown them in the shallow puddle your tears make.” He gave her a sly grin. “I hear drowning is the most painful way to die.”


    She giggled through her blurred vision, wiping gently at her cheek with one hand and yfully shoving him with the other. “You remember me saying that in the Heart Vige?”


    “I remember everything you say.” The slyness was gone, and only sincerity remained—and the ache of everything she felt for the man before her.


    She brought a tentative hand up to his face, and he froze. The stubble of his chin sending tingles into her palm, she rubbed a thumb across the top of his cheekbone and said, “This might be the greatest birthday gift I’ve ever been given.”


    The moment shattered into tiny pieces at the look on his face. “What!”


    She stumbled back from the outraged promation. What had she said wrong?


    Don’t… Don’t…not know what you did wrong, Evie!


    Oh, even for me that’s too much.


    “What? What did I say?” she screeched.


    “It’s not your birthday.” He sliced a hand through the air, as if he could sh the words in half.


    Evie looked left to right just to be sure there was no one hiding in the wings, waiting to jump out and yell, “Gotcha!”


    But no one was there. This wasn’t a prank, just the normal everyday nonsense that her life had be.


    “It…is,” she said carefully. “Do you find birthdays particrly triggering? Is it the cake? The balloons?” She gasped, gripping his arm. “Oh, sir, are you afraid of balloons?”


    “No, Sage!” he roared.


    She nodded solemnly. “Birthday jesters, then.”


    “I’m not afraid of jesters!”


    Kingsley’s chained cuff nged in seemingly out of nowhere with a sign that read:


    Liar


    “Get out, you snoop!” Trystan yelled, opening the door, and Kingsley stuck out his long tongue before moving at a snail’s pace to get away. “Fucking frog.” He rubbed his temples and turned to her, and the ferocity in his expression made her stumble away until her back hit the wall. “Stay here,” he ordered, following Kingsley, mming the door behind him.


    She snorted. “Yeah, right.” She gripped the handle and tugged. The door didn’t budge. The Viin had known her for too long and too deeply to believe that she’d stay put.


    She jiggled the handle again, burning anger boiling her blood until her face flushed and her neck prickled with heat. She banged the door with a fist. “YOU SON OF A BITCH, TRYSTAN! LET ME OUT!”


    The Viin had locked her in.