Just before stepping aboard, Eris felt a familiar prickle at the back of her neck. A gust of cold rushed down her spine, and she spun to find she wasn’t alone.
Bloodred eyes burned into hers.
Eris’s heart beat fast and hard. She stepped quickly back to find the summoner looming before her, its blue-black wings hiding its true form. She hid her hook behind her back—a habit she’d fallen into lately.
“What could Jemsin possibly want from me?” Eris growled, trying to sound fiercer than she felt.
“Jemsin’s bones are at the bottom of the sea, Skyweaver.”
“What?” she whispered, shocked by this news.
“That girl of yours, her friends lured him into the wrecking grounds,” the summoner rasped. “His crew were eaten. His ship sank. Jemsin—nor I—will never bother you again.”
Eris’s hook fell back to her side.
“I thought you should know.”
Eris swallowed, nodding. “Thank you,” she said as the summoner melted into the shadows.
Alone, Eris paused, thinking of Jemsin. The man had been both rescuer and captor, and now he was dead. Had she already spun his soul into a star? The thought made her realize she bore him no hatred. Only wished him rest.
That girl of yours . . .
Just for a moment, Eris let herself look south across the Silver Sea, thinking of Safire. She’d thought, weeks ago, that perhaps Safire would stay. Instead, she said good-bye, boarded Dax’s ship, and returned to Firgaard.
Eris understood, of course. Safire’s whole life was in Firgaard.
She’d thought about visiting her. She didn’t need the doors anymore. Eris could call up the mists herself and step right from her tower into Safire’s bedroom if she wanted. But every time she longed to, she would look at the hook where her right hand used to be and talk herself out of it.
Eris tried to put the girl with sapphire eyes out of mind as she climbed into her boat. Unfurling the sails, she untied the ropes from the wharf, then steered herself out into open waters.
Eris listened to the rise and fall of the sea’s hushed breath. The water was calm today. It would make for easy sailing from here to the scrin.
With her hook curved around the wheel, Eris closed her eyes. No more Jemsin. No more empress. No more hiding or running away. With the wind in her hair and the salt on her lips, her newfound freedom glowed within her. Making her blood hum.
And then: a shadow passed overhead.
Eris opened her eyes. Looking up, she found a dragon flying directly above her.
Suddenly, the beast dived, swooping lower to the water, falling in line with Eris’s boat. On its back rode a girl whose face was half-hidden in a scarf. The wind whipped her raven-black hair and above the scarf, her eyes shone blue as sapphires.
“Where are you headed, sailor?”
Eris stared, not wanting to believe it. In case this was a dream.
Finally, she shook off her shock and shouted back: “I guess that depends on who’s asking.”
Eris thought she saw those blue eyes crinkle. And then, tired of keeping pace with such a slow craft, the dragon sped up, swooping in lazy circles around the ship.
“I’m wondering,” the rider called out, “if you’re still fond of princesses, or if you’ve changed your mind.”
Eris bit down on a smile. “Princesses are fine.” As the dragon swooped, Eris turned another circle, keeping it and its rider in her sight. “Though I prefer soldiers.”
“What about a former soldier?”
Eris’s heart skipped at that. “Why don’t you come down here and we’ll talk about it face-to-face?”
A moment later, the dragon was keeping pace with the boat again, soaring low, mindful of the sails. His rider patted his neck, saying something softly. As the dragon kept himself steady and close, Safire swung her leg over and jumped.
Her boots hit the deck and she rocked, throwing out her arms for balance. When she found it, she rose to her full height and pulled the sandskarf down from her face.
Her gaze went straight to the hook where Eris’s hand used to be. Eris fought the urge to hide it behind her back.
Wanting to divert Safire’s attention away from her missing hand, Eris nodded toward the wheel. “Want to try?”
Safire looked up, arching a brow. “Me? Steer a boat?”
“It might come in useful someday,” said Eris, feeling strangely nervous. “When you turn pirate.”
Safire shook her head, smiling, then stepped toward the wheel.
“All right,” said Safire, her eyes guarded but bright. As if she were just as nervous as Eris. “Show me.”
Carefully, Eris touched Safire’s hip with the curve of her hook, guiding her in front, then showed her where to grip the smooth wood of the wheel.
Safire reached for it, but kept her hands too close together. So, very gently, Eris nudged them apart, pushing them into proper position.
“Like that,” Eris said, standing close.
It was quiet for several heartbeats. After a long while, with her heart thudding against her ribs, Eris said, “What are you doing here?”
Safire turned then, abandoning the wheel, clearly not interested in sailing. Her eyes never wavered from Eris’s face as she said, “I left something behind.”
Above them, the dragon rose skyward, keeping watch. Around them, the sea had gone silent and still.
“Oh?” Eris swallowed. “And what’s that?”
Safire stepped in close. Reaching for Eris’s hook, she pressed it to her chest.
“My heart,” she whispered, touching her forehead to Eris’s.
And Eris thought: This is home.
No more running and hiding. This was where she belonged.
Acknowledgments
Heather Flaherty, for believing in these four fierce girls from the beginning.
Kristen Pettit, for always knowing what my stories need to level up. You are brilliant and kind and I’m forever indebted to you for turning me into an author. Thank you from the depths of my heart.
The team at HarperTeen, especially Elizabeth Lynch, Renée Cafiero, Allison Brown, Michelle Taormina, Audrey Diestelkamp, Bess Braswell, Olivia Russo, Martha Schwartz, and Vincent Cusenza.
Rachel Winterbottom, who saved one of Eris’s hands and Dax’s tender heart. Thank you for your ever wise and thoughtful feedback.
The whole team at Gollancz, but especially Stevie Finegan, Paul Stark, Cait Davies, Amy Davies, and Brendan Durkin.
Gemma Cooper—my lovely, savvy agent across the pond.
The team at HarperCollins Canada, especially Ashley Posluns, Shamin Alli, and Maeve O’Regan.
Myrthe Spiteri and the crew at Blossom Books (with an extra special shout-out to Maria Postema).
Jenny Bent and the Bent Agency team.
My foreign agents, publishers, translators, and cover designers.
The good folks at Café Nymph (where so much of this book got written) for letting me sit and write for hours on end.
Hay Cove: for your kindness, generosity, and warm welcome (and for looking in on me when I was snowed in and alone . . . and then shoveling me out!). I wish everyone had neighbors as wonderful as you.
Words Worth Books, for being so supportive of me.
E. K. Johnston, who cried for two hours after finishing this book (or so she tells me). Kate: thank you for your friendship, your publishing advice, but most of all your bighearted and beautiful stories.