At last, the rapids were past. The four adventurers rowed north, and the Rakkar swelled wide into a placid stretch of black flatwater. On the open river, four oars were better than two. The canoe carved past ridges of crooked pines feathered by blackberry brambles.

The woods in the east grew dark and deep, the hills in the west rose sharp and steep. The skies were clear, and they flew upriver, light in body and mind. El could tell they were close. She began to plan the confrontation.

The fugitives were only two, after all. One was barely more than a boy. Four oars for the pursuit, with a sorceress, a brute, and a knight for the fight. For all the talk of Fish’s martial prowess, El Sha La believed she could burn the drifter down before he had a chance to swing his sword.

They just had to catch him and, for the first time, it seemed they might. The disaster was past, the river was open, and they gained ground with every stroke. She studied the men’s faces and saw hope. They’d begun to believe they might prevail and started to speak again.

“Is it true you dueled Gel Shimae?” Yellowhat asked Revel. The bard was better at baiting conversation than his makeshift pole. El considered ordering him to shut it, but she was sick of silence. The river seemed to run forever. She bent an ear instead.

Revel paused mid-stroke and, to El Sha La’s surprise, thought before he spoke. If Hat made it back intact, whatever Revel replied would be repeated at every tavern in Tinkerton.

“Yes,” Revel said. He set to his oar and offered nothing more.

“I heard you took his hand,” Sters leaned in and invited. His professional interest was piqued.

“I did. The ambassador put his hand where he oughtn’t and lost the right to have it.”

Revel felt her stare, turned back, and caught her eye. She scowled, still furious about it.

“What I heard was: You lost that duel. Got beat off your feet and hacked from your back,” Sters snuck into their stare down.

“You heard wrong. I never yielded. True, Ghel Shimae put me on my back and set his point at my throat. I was not disarmed and begged no quarter. He called for his cronies to pin me so he could put out my eyes. Turned away and left me wide open.”

Revel traced the scar on the left side of his neck with a finger. It was a very close thing. Sters nodded with his bottom lip jut. It was a move he could appreciate.

“I can put it plainer. He butted in, maimed an ambassador, and put us at the brink of war with Terhaljatan,” El explained.

“I was honor-bound,” Revel said.

“I was fine,” El Sha La snapped back. They’d had this argument a dozen times, neither would budge.

Yellowhat sang out:

“My honor demands,

I hack off thy hand,

Lay ruin to our land,

For I am a maaa-aan!”

Hat rolled his palms against the gunwale like a drumroll. Revel rolled his eyes. Sters smiled wide at the stanza and guffawed with delight.

“Is that why you trained with Fish? Cause you got whipped?” Sters jabbed.

Revel reddened and redoubled his rowing.

“It’s all coming together.” Yellowhat gave a crooked grin. “Young Ramos here is the germ of this whole bloody business. Had he not dismembered the touchy Terhaljatani ambassador, daddy magus would have never gone down to dicker with the mad prince. The abrupt absence of Arath the Unraveller allowed Rigel the Rapscallion to misappropriate the magic marble. Which means—”

“—this is all your fault,” Sters joined in chorus.

“It’s not my fault!” Revel insisted.

There was an ugly edge to Hat’s jest. El Sha La worried they’d taken it too far.

“It’s not his fault. The orb was my responsibility,” El countered. But the barb was in. Revel rowed in shamed silence for the rest of the afternoon, and El simmered in regret. He meant well after all, he was just so stupid, so short-sighted, so stuck-up, so—

“So, Revel,” Yellowhat needled, “what’s it like to start a war?”

“Enough,” El Sha La warned.

Revel grew stiff. It seemed he might crack Yellowhat’s head open with his oar. Instead, he turned his face toward the sunset. His features seemed softer in the dusk.

“I think about that every day. In truth, Shimae was the better swordsman. His duel was a scheme to draw my father into war. I fell for it, and others will suffer for what I’ve done. I should have been stronger. I disgraced my name and deserved to lose it,” Revel spoke somberly and slow. His pain was so apparent that even Hat shut his trap. El suspected Yellowhat hadn’t meant to pierce so deep. The bard grew vile as his cane wore thin.

Ahead, an ancient watchtower rose from an island at the center of the Rakkar. Eager for any excuse to distance themselves, they drew their canoe onto the shore and set out to check the ruins for signs of their quarry.

Inside the burned-out tower, they found the remains of another campfire. They were still warm. El Sha La turned the ashes with a stick and unearthed a smoldering ember. The air grew tight with excitement.

They are close!

They spoke hopefully of rowing on, but their strength was spent. El Sha La relented and gave Yellowhat his smoke. She left him to his rapture and set out with Revel and Sters to scout the rest of the island.

All around the watchtower, they found impressions where structures once stood. Chicken coops, barracks, or storage sheds, they could only speculate. Everything was gone but their outlines, and these had nearly vanished beneath a carpet of ivy and wildflowers. The east of the island was a long, sandy beach. The west was a colonnade of vine-draped basalt. Pillars of rock led down to a secluded pool where lava columns had cooled into hexagonal steps.

Sters suggested the island’s sentinels might have kept a boat moored here, ready to race north and warn of invaders from the south. The water was clear as glass, and violet harebell grew in the cracks between the basalt. For once, Revel was quiet. He stepped down to the pool and peered in.

“Quaint place,” El offered. “Almost like to have a cottage here.”

“All this land, squandered.” Sters shook his head. He swept his hand out toward the eastern woods. “In Tinkerton, we’re stacked treble, like sardines. We war over bits of turf you couldn’t build an outhouse on.”

“Claim this isle for your own if you’ve a mind to. Raise the Hook banner above yon tower,” El Sha La joked.

“How’d I make a living out here, with no legs to break but my own? I’m no Kermit the Hermit. I’d die of boredom.”

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“You’re just afraid of the dragon.”

The jab took Sters off guard. El threw him a meaningful glance.

“Pah, dragon. Bet it was nought but a big turtle.” Sters caught on quick.

“Big enough to send you flying for the bushes,” El carried on.

“Wiser to hide and stay alive than to stand upon the shore and be swallowed,” Sters chuffed.

They waited for Revel to rise to the bait, but he looked away. Once-Ramos settled onto a hexagon and stared down in silence. Yellowhat’s words dug deep beneath his skin.

“Let’s go back,” El offered softly.

Revel waved them on. El started to speak but stopped herself. They’d all had precious little time alone since the journey began. They left Revel to wallow.

“You quartiere are so delicate,” Sters said once they were out of earshot.

“You wharf rats are so coarse,” El charged back.

“Why are you wasting your time with some outcast? What’s the point?”

“An outcast prince still has potential. Revel has room to rise. He won’t be mired in shit forever.”

Sters’ dark eyes flashed with anger at the implication, his jaw clenched in restraint. The hook was unused to being talked back to, and she got the sense he’d like to lay her out. El Sha La stared right back, with a sigil dancing at the tip of her tongue. She all but dared him to try. The moment broke, and Sters shrugged it off. Arath’s lessons were unforgettable.

“That shant might sink us all. Is he going to admire his reflection all night or drown himself?”

“Concerned, Sters?”

“Hell yes, I’m concerned. I don’t want to row that bloody boat on my own. Don’t want to face Fish on my lonesome, neither. I’ll tell you right now, you’re paying me and Hat to row and no more. If it’s ever Fish and I in a fight, I’m gonna take flight, gold be damned.”

“How heroic.”

“Every hero I’ve ever known is a ghost. The cowards are still around,” Sters said.

“Now who’s delicate? Don’t fret about Fish. I’ll handle him,” El Sha La promised.

Sters sucked in air, said nothing, and walked off toward the river. El Sha La let him go. As she walked back alone, she weighed the exchange. It was a delicate balance. If Sters became too familiar, he’d try to roll right over her. It was his nature to take advantage.

Just the same, if Sters grew too afraid, he’d bolt. If they didn’t catch Fish in a day or two, he was bound to try something stupid. El had to be prepared. Yellowhat could not be relied upon for anything. She had to bolster Revel somehow. An idea sprang to mind.

Back at the watchtower, El Sha La rummaged in Revel’s pack and pocketed a small package wrapped in wax. Yellowhat raised an eyebrow, and she put a finger over her lips. He wiggled his eyebrows from left to right like a snake, and she snorted with mirth. For all the trouble he caused, it was hard to stay mad at the bard.

Not long after, Revel rejoined them, and they parceled out a sad excuse for dinner. He had little to say and didn’t seem to notice someone had been through his things. Sters slunk in for his share of the rations. In the firelight, El noticed a smudge of something sticky at the corner of his mouth. Whatever Sters found down by the river, he hadn’t felt like sharing.

“Give everyone a full ration,” El Sha La decided. “I want us at full strength tomorrow. We have a thief to catch. I’ll take first watch.”

No one argued against the extravagance. Full bellies and the day’s labors sent the three men into a deep sleep well before moonrise. El took first watch. Outside the tower, she practiced her sigils and schemed. Before long, a yawn spoiled her recitation.

A sorceress ought to summon pitch-perfect conjugation, amalgamation, and transformation at any moment, no matter how pressed or weary. But, tonight, she couldn’t focus. The forms twisted on her tongue and shifted on her lips. By the third cast, her practice devolved into a hopeless slur of flubbed fricatives and lax labializations. Her mind was elsewhere.

A strand of golden hair twirled around her finger. She peeked inside, and Revel’s face glowed across the fire’s embers, at peace. The moon shone through the burned-out roof, a sliver from full. She slipped over to Revel’s bedroll, set a finger over his lips, and stole his tranquility away. His eyes cracked open.

“Don’t speak. Come with me.”

Revel obeyed without question, still in his smallclothes. They crept out of the ruin barefoot and stepped into the silver moonlight. The night wind whispered around them. El Sha La led through the tall grass, down to the pool.

“Get in.”

Revel glanced down at his undergarments. She rolled her eyes.

“Fine. Take those off.”

Once nude, Revel lowered himself into the pool. He tried to be stoic, but the water was cold. His breath halted and his muscles twitched. El Sha La sat on a stone step and savored her position.

Revel looked up at her, no doubt wondering what she was about. She’d trained him better than to ask. She stared back, and he glanced away, abashed.

“Look at me,” El Sha La bid. She lifted her robe over her head and stood stark in the moonlight. His eyes gleamed with awe. Revel beheld her, like a savage before a silver idol.

El Sha La drank in the feeling. She sat on a basalt step so that her foot dangled just above the surface of the pool. She led him with her eyes. Revel kissed her toes, heedless of the strands of wet grass. El smiled, secure in her possession. If she wanted to order him around all night, he would gladly comply. But she had other ideas.

“You look cold. Here.” She planted her instep against his forehead and pushed him back into the pool.

No fog now, no fear. She was exalted. The sigils rang out, perfect. El Sha La dipped her big toe into the pool, bubbles spread from her touch. Soon, wisps of steam rose from the surface. The whole pool seethed like a hot spring.

Revel made a sound of surprise. He was blissfully unaware of the willpower and control the spell required. A single slipped syllable meant Revel stew. He never knew. El Sha La bent over her robe and took more time than she needed to find the bar of soap she’d stolen from his pack. His jaw was open when she turned back. El stepped into the pool, the water perfect.

“Revel, come here.” Her tone softened, less a demand than a request. He came over slowly. Revel thought he knew her game. He expected to be scorned and slapped. Instead, she sat in the water with him, drew him close, and wrapped herself around his back.

He squirmed with want, but she held him close and let him grow comfortable before she lathered his back. She ran her slippery hands all over his shoulders and kneaded away the days of rowing. The tension melted beneath her fingers.

“Lie down and close your eyes. Don’t make a sound.”

Revel laid flat on the basalt shelf, half-submerged. His parts protruded from the water. She ignored his need and worked her hands from the soles of his feet to his scalp. He struggled to be silent but failed. El Sha La relished each tiny sound that escaped him.

With the lightest touch of her fingertips, she traced all over his skin and drew closer until he couldn’t hold back a moan. Though his muscles were putty, his bits trembled and twitched. She’d never seen him so aroused.

She smiled and took away her touch. She didn’t have to wait long.

“Please,” he whispered.

Revel’s breath grew ragged. He was at the brink, and she’d barely begun. She let him squirm. She brought her lips against his ear to whisper. His eyes fluttered against his lids. He was ready for her to deride her as an eager dog and make him beg.

“Revel,” she murmured, “you’re so big tonight.”

He erupted without a touch. Revel’s whole body shuddered as he came. His face flushed with shame as pent-up days on the river drifted around him.

“There’s so much,” she whispered.

Again, her words hit him like a whip. He looked up at her, blue eyes laid bare. Now, she could build him back up or break him with a word. The control set her cheeks aglow. She took him in hand and went to work.

“The rest ran away, but you were brave. On the shore with your sword,” El Sha La whispered. “I’ve wanted this for days.” Her voice grew thick with need.

“El, I—” Revel began. She squeezed him hard and felt him swell in response.

“Shh,” El Sha La murmured into his ear. She sat him up and climbed over him.

“It’s too soon, I can’t.”

He could. El Sha La was flooded with excitement. They gasped together, and she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She’d meant to drag this out, but she found she couldn’t. They were exposed in the wilderness, naked against the night. They slid against each other, urgent as beasts. Too soon, his hands gripped her waist and tried to lift her off.

“I’m close!” Revel pled.

“Don’t stop,” she ordered. He gasped as she wrapped her legs around him. He couldn’t hold back. El Sha La threw her head back and rode on until she arrived. They clung to each other after in a shivering mess.

“Are you crazy?” Revel asked.

She met his eyes, suddenly serious. Before, Revel was just a summer paramour. Something had changed. The game was forgotten.

“We’re almost there. I need you to be strong. I’ll take care of everything back in Lhaz. I’ll make it all go away. Just do what I say.”

“I will,” Revel vowed.

“You belong to me.”

Revel nodded, but there was no need. Her words moved him inside her. Her legs shook as she stood. Revel fell into her shadow. He looked up to her, rapt. She was a goddess, outlined in the moonlight.

They’d been out too long. El Sha La knew they ought to get back to the watch before something ate the others. Instead, she grabbed a handful of Revel’s curly hair and pulled his mouth against her. There was no resistance.

“Again,” she said.