She found Carina exactly where she expected her to be. As the two message-runners, the two girls frequently ran into each other, sometimes even switching over messages to each other. As a result, Elodie knew the princess's habits.

Carina preferred to be on one of the higher decks usually, and there was one that she had made into her little reading nook. It was right by one of the lanterns that multipurposed the levitation crystals as a light, in one of the rooms on that level that had unusually large windows that a particularly persistent person might be able to use as a door if she were to open the shutters.

Carina had stored blankets and books there, and Elodie knew she was there if the wide window was open to let the sea-breeze through.

The sun was only just starting to set when Elodie found her there, the sun still a ways from kissing the sea, only beginning to streak the sky with gold and a peachy pink.

"Are you alright?" Elodie asked, as she ducked through said window.

"Never better." Carina did not look up from her book. But she did move over, to make a little room for Elodie.

"You found another way, one that doesn't require. . . " Elodie trailed off as she sat next to the princess.

Carina looked up, her blue and green eyes flashing. Her expression immediately sobered and she closed her book. She cradled it close to her chest, a lifeline. "Yes. I know it. . . it helped, then. They were bad men."

She looked Elodie directly in the eye. "But even bad men don't deserve that."

"We can agree on that." Elodie smiled sympathetically.

"I'm glad it pleases you." For as coolly as she said it, Elodie could see it in Carina's eyes, that she meant it genuinely. "I'm not sure Captain Jennings liked that I refused her command."

"I really don't think she minded." Elodie tilted her head as she recalled the moment. "We got away, and that was what mattered."

"I'm sure she might've liked her commissions with the Crown of Albion more." A bitterness flooded her tone. Her cheeks flushed as her eyes darted away, an embarrassed smile curling her full lips. "Don't misunderstand me, Elodie. She's been kind to me, and I know that you're a family friend of hers. I appreciate that kindness."

Her expression sobered, as she looked away, to the far end of the small room. But Elodie could see that she wasn't looking there, not really. Someplace far away, beyond the four walls of her makeshift book nook.

"I cannot forget who I am dealing with," she whispered like the sea-air. "Captain Jennings is still a woman in the Albionese navy, a privateer for the King who stole my people's islands and who seeks to destroy us day by day."

"What do you mean, destroy you?" Elodie shifted uncomfortably.

"The King wants to control our islands, to make us like them," Carina explained. "Albionese society. We never wanted to be a part of Albionese society. We have our own. We were born on these islands, or found them as they were born, learned to work with them. We have our ways, and the King of Albion doesn't respect that. To take that from us—it takes what makes us us."

She sighed, turning her head to look out at the window, at the sea and the sky behind Elodie. "And so each day that the flag of the King of Albion flies over our island, we die a little, day by day."

She then smiled, a more polite thing. "But I don't expect you to understand. You are an Albionese girl, one who was raised for the higher ranks of society."

"I guess not." Elodie frowned as she considered what Carina had told her. "Although. . . my grandfather is from the Emerald Isle, you know."

"The Emerald Isle?" Carina's eyes flicked up to Elodie's hair. "I suppose I could see that."

Elodie laughed. "My mother loved having the Emerald Isle hair and eyes—I think she was a little disappointed I took after my dad in that regard."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

She didn't really know what Captain Felix Vance looked like, Elodie realized. The only thing she knew about his appearance was her brown eyes, the inheritance of her father.

"But I think we were once like the Voyagers, there are still some of the old stories, before the Thulians came, and the Albionese after." She recalled her mother telling her stories of ancient warriors like giants, of the selkies—mixed in with the more grounded modern legend of Keira Fleetwood's days as a pirate. "They say the Selkies were the ones who left, who would not surrender to Thule."

Carina said nothing, instead watching Elodie closely.

"I suppose after a time, most of the men of the Emerald Isle became more like my grandfather." Elodie pressed her lips closely together. "The kind of man who would do anything to be accepted by the Albionese gentry."

That was why he had worked so hard as a barrister, why he had invested in the merchants rising with him, why he had wanted first his daughter and now Elodie to marry well. Even as bastards, they could still have the use of legitimizing his family, of pushing his name up.

Elodie looked at her left hand. For so long, she had dreamed of the kind of wedding ring she might receive, perhaps an heirloom from one of the low-ranking gentry she'd aspired to marry into. Surely she could love such a gentleman, and find belonging there. No one would call her the bastard daughter of a bastard daughter, or a hanged-man's child.

And yet, after seeing what had happened to Kas—a bastard was still a bastard, gentry or no.

No one would have ever forgiven the circumstances of her or her mother's births, even though there was no shame for either of them in what had happened.

She never would have belonged there fully, she was beginning to realize. Her mother had been more right than Elodie had given her credit for. She had been convinced all this time that such a marriage would buy her propriety and security.

In the process, she'd forgotten who exactly was pushing such a marriage—and what he had to gain from such a thing.

She supposed if she heard about Kas's title—but somehow avoided the rumor that the Duchess of Silvershire had confirmed—that her grandfather would approve.

But such a thought did not fill her with the warmth that she once thought it would. It was a more apathetic observation, similar to noticing the color of the sky or a stray freckle on the back of her pale hand.

"I hope there aren't many like my grandfather among your people," Elodie finished.

"Me too." Carina held her head back, regarding Elodie anew. "I'm afraid that among all men, there's too much greed, too much ambition to pay any mind to the greater good."

She tugged at the second crystal now dangling from around her neck, and Elodie suspected that she was thinking of her brother. "It was a woman, a princess who decided that the power of Limuria couldn't be entrusted into the hands of men. They'll tell the same story about me, how I was the princess who ruined everything with no idea of what disaster was averted."

She looked up to Elodie and smiled wryly. "It's thankless work, being a woman, thinking of the future and more than what we stand to gain."

Elodie thought of her mother, of Jonathan Beckett, and of Brendan Fleetwood's ploys. "All while we lose everything."

Carina reached out to Elodie, taking her hand. "At least your father seemed to understand that Limuria was bad news, even if he had no idea what it truly was."

She paused. "And Captain Jennings understands as well, what's truly at stake."

"And my mother too." Elodie thought of that last note from her mother. "We'll keep it out of their hands. And someday, someone will tell our story, and know what we did and be grateful for it."

"I think you are an optimist, my friend." Carina picked her book back up—a tome of fairytales, the stuff that inspired operas and theatre based on the cover. "I only wish I could be."

Elodie decided then to take her leave. Clearly Carina wanted to be left alone.

Instead, she sought out Kas.

----------------------------------------

She found him where she had just two nights prior, at the front of the ship. He was sitting over his newly-acquired spell-book, frowning and muttering words she did not recognize under the dying sunlight. He kept snapping his fingers, gesturing firmly—but nothing happened.

"Oh, hello, darling." He turned his head at her approach and smiled. He closed the book, and like Carina, moved over to make room for her.

"So that's a magi spellbook then, is it?" Elodie plopped down next to him.

"Apparently." A hiss of frustration escaped Kas's lips. "Not that I can make much of it. It's written an old script, one like Manoan but not quite. I haven't yet figured it out. But I will."

"This is to spite him, isn't it?"

"Part of it is." He looked out to the sea. "Part of it is, well, I could have been a magi too, if my mother had thought to send me to the man who was my blood-father. Instead, I grew up in that cold mansion, always striving to be better, to be worthy of my parents' attentions. And I never knew until now that it wasn't going to happen, that they left me to die when Madigan came."

"They stole the childhood you could have had from you." Elodie reached out to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He wrapped his hand around hers. "The magi children looked happy there."

He looked to their entwined hands. "I wonder if I could have been."

Elodie opened her mouth to argue, but then decided against it. Instead, she laid her head on his shoulder. He stiffened, only to lean into her touch. They turned their gazes skyward.

"It's a beautiful night," she offered. It still took her breath away, how bright the stars were on the high seas and low skies.

"It is," he agreed with a gentle laugh, weaving his fingers into hers.