The ferry groaned as it broke free of the dock. The sound rumbled through the hull and into the soles of my feet. I could hear wood scraping on wood, metal clanging as mooring chains were unhooked. The ropes were pulled back into the boat slowly, and the engine thudded to life beneath me.

  We were finally moving.

  I hadn’t used the ticket Marcelo purchased. I left it in plain sight on his desk, tucked under a silver letter opener. Instead, I’d walked into the ferry station, my hood around my shoulders, and a worn canvas pack slung over one shoulder, just big enough to hold a few changes of clothes and some sharp necessities. Selwyn had handed it to me without a word when he lent me these more practical clothes.

  I’d stood near the counter for too long, but my mouth wouldn’t form the words.

  When the girl behind the desk looked up, I forced them out. “I need a ticket to the city. One way. I-uh, I have this.”

  Her eyes widened immediately. They dropped to my fingers against the collar, then back to my face. She flushed a pretty, startled pink.

  “You’re House Velez.” She gave me a nervous little smile, like she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to bow or bolt.

  “Y-yes, of course. We can… we’ll just… I’ll charge it to your account.”

  She moved quickly, hands fumbling slightly as she stamped the small page. When she passed the ticket over, her trembling fingers brushed mine.

  “Safe travels, miss.”

  It had worked.

  I had believed Jacobi when he said it would, believed him enough to try, but until the paper was in my hand, I wasn’t sure, not really.

  Now I stood on the deck with the ticket folded in my cloak pocket, and Jacobi’s collar pressed gently at my throat, just enough to feel known.

  I kept my head down as I crossed the deck, pulling the cloak high around my neck though it did nothing to hide the horns rising from my head. Let them stare.

  Their whispers weren’t subtle, not to my ears. The murmur of breath too quick, heartbeats shifting rhythm as I passed by.

  “Is that a demon?”

  “Look at the horns.”

  “What’s it doing here?”

  I took the furthest bench at the back of the deck, half-shadowed by a stack of covered crates.

  This wasn’t my first time on water, but it had been years. The last time I crossed the sea, I was shackled and on my way to auction. But I wasn’t afraid.

  Because of Sam. He was young, younger than Selwyn, with soft eyes and a quiet voice. He brought me real food, not the slop they fed us on the mainland, and he cleaned my wounds with careful hands.

  The trip had taken two weeks and I spent most of it with him in his bunk. The ocean was wide and endless, so different than anything I’d seen before. But Sam made the journey bearable.

  He didn’t treat me like cargo, or a possession.

  He treated me like a person.

  I shifted on the bench, not because it was uncomfortable, though it was, but because I couldn’t sit still. My legs ached for movement, my claws twitched. Every breath of salt air felt rough inside my chest. My body didn’t know how to do nothing.

  Three days.

  That’s what I’d overheard from two passengers leaning over the rail. Three days across open water, and all I could do was sit here, listening and waiting.

  Marcelo would already be there.

  He’d taken a private vessel. Faster, quieter, not subject to schedules. Jacobi had said that Marcelo invested heavily in high-speed water transport years ago. Not for convenience. For control.

  And still, he’d given me a ferry ticket. A slow, crowded ship with nowhere to run and no way to reach Ellah any faster.

  The message was clear. He didn’t have to leash me to control me.

  My knee bounced once, involuntarily, before I stilled it.

  I wasn’t made for waiting.

  Waiting gave me too much time for imagining. Reliving. Replaying everything I could have done different. What if I had gone with Marcelo earlier? What if I hadn’t left Ellah in my bedroom?

  Nalah said he wouldn’t hurt Ellah, but what if I was already too late?

  I could fight for hours, run for miles, slip through a city in darkness without being seen. But I couldn’t sit on a bench in the sun without feeling something was unraveling.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  I should have been sharpening weapons, marking maps, plotting my next move. Instead, I was watching gulls trace circles overhead and counting how long each set of footsteps took to cross the deck.

  I hadn’t realised how loud the ship was until I started listening.

  Footsteps. Clinks of glassware. The soft hiss of wind though warped seams in the metal. A high-pitched bell, somewhere below. The rhythmic churn of the engine groaning under the weight of water.

  I catalogued it all. Useless noise, but I couldn’t stop.

  I needed something to do.

  Or someone to bleed.

  Time passed. Enough that the people on deck stopped pretending not to look at me and just stopped looking. I hadn’t moved, and I hadn’t raised my voice or claws. That, apparently, was all it took.

  The wind shifted, sharper now, carrying salt and the occasional burst of laughter from the bow. Footsteps slowed, and the low hum of a melody drifted from the bar, someone plucking a stringed instrument, more rhythm than tune.

  By sunset, the tension on deck had eased.

  Mine hadn’t.

  The sound of boots echoed, slow at first, rising from the belly of the ship in a steady clanging rhythm. I turned as a deck door slammed open with a loud metallic bang.

  Two men stepped out wearing white and navy uniforms that echoed the ship’s trim. The taller was sharp-edged, older, composed, his coat immaculate and his stride exact. He looked straight ahead, jaw tight, posture flawless. His body language screamed performance.

  The younger man beside him was a contrast. Effortless stance, sun-browned skin, wearing a wide smile. He clapped the taller man on the shoulder with casual familiarity.

  “Again, Admiral, it’s good to have you on board.”

  The Admiral returned the gesture with a nod and moved off toward the bar, his gaze sweeping the deck without stopping, until the tiniest pause as it passed over me. I filed the glance away.

  The other man turned, then saw me and paused.

  Then he smiled.

  Not a smirk or a leer. A real smile.

  He walked toward me with his hands clasped behind his back. His movements were easy, unhurried. He didn’t demand attention, but got it anyway.

  His coat matched him, faded at the seams, sun-softened, and well-worn. A gun sat low at his hip in a holster, the leather molded by use, not display.

  I’d never seen one up close, only from a distance on the occasional military patrols.

  But he wore it the way I used to wear my blades. Not to impress. Just… ready.

  He stopped a polite distance away, hands still behind his back.

  “Good evening.”

  His voice was warm and inviting, and something about it made me think of melted chocolate. Sweet and dangerously easy to like.

  “Good evening,” I echoed.

  Up close, I could see the small gold stars on his shoulders.

  He caught the glance and tapped them with two fingers, his smile widening. “Captain Shaw. William, when I’m off duty.”

  “Joy…” I hesitated, just for a beat. “I’m Joy.”

  He didn’t miss the pause and his smile softened.

  “I’m sure you are that and more.”

  His eyes flicked, briefly, to the collar at my throat. There was no look of surprise, no judgement, just quiet recognition.

  He rested a hand on the back of the bench across from mine. “May I sit?”

  I nodded once. “It’s your boat.”

  “Indeed it is.”

  He sat with his elbows on the table and fingers laced beneath his chin. He studied my face for a moment, his gaze lingering on the curve of my horns.

  “May I ask you a question, Miss Velez?”

  I was used to being labeled, not addressed. Miss Velez didn’t sound like ownership. It caught on something inside me. Not because it felt wrong, but because it didn’t.

  I tilted my head slightly. “Let me guess. You want to touch the horns.”

  He laughed loudly, drawing startled glances from nearby tables. He didn’t seem to care. He leaned back, the wood beneath him creaking with the shift, his hands resting open on the table.

  “I was going to ask what brings you aboard my ship,” he said, eyes glinting, “but if you’re offering…”

  I let a smile pass across my mouth. “Humans are usually predictable.”

  “I try not to be. So I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “I’m headed to the city. Meeting up with an old friend.”

  Not exactly a lie. Just not the full story. No more than he needed to know.

  “My first responsibility is to this ship and everyone aboard her. That includes you.”

  He said it like a fact, like I was just another passenger, no different from anyone else on this ship.

  “If anyone gives you trouble, you come to me. I’ll sort them out.”

  His voice rumbled across the table, then he stood.

  “Everyone is welcome on my ship,” he said louder, his voice carrying across the deck.

  Not shouted, just enough to be heard. This wasn’t just show, this was strategy.

  His eyes met mine one last time. No wide smile now, just a nod before he turned and continued across the deck, his footsteps unhurried.

  He moved into the crowd of passengers and disappeared from my sight.

  I was still watching the place he’d vanished when someone cleared their throat just to my left.

  I turned, and found a boy standing there, maybe sixteen, holding a drinks tray and wearing the stiff half-smile of someone trying not to look nervous.

  I hadn’t heard him approach. I must have let myself relax more than I thought.

  “Hello miss.” He swallowed like he wasn’t sure the words had come out right.

  I tilted my head, “You don’t need to be nervous. I’m not going to eat you.”

  That earned me a startled laugh and a brighter version of the smile he’d been trying to hold. He glanced quickly over his shoulder.

  Following his gaze, I spotted two other boys behind a bar, watching us with wide grins.

  I gave them a little wave and they ducked out of sight.

  “Let me guess, you drew the short straw and had to come ask for my drink order?”

  A look of panic flickered over his face, “N-no, not at all, miss! We were actually, uh, sort of fighting over who got to serve you.”

  He gave a sheepish half-grin. “We’re fans. We saw your match earlier this week. Against that massive demon with all those tattoos.”

  I smiled warmly. The hardest part of that match had been making it last long enough to give the customers what they paid to see.

  “Did I win you any money?”

  “Yes, very much indeed. We always bet on you. It’s safely tucked away for next time.”

  I briefly pictured Jacobi as I left him in the kitchen, fingers curled around the butler’s secret stash jar, like he didn’t quite know what to do with it or me.

  The boy flushed again, and cleared his throat.

  “Anyway… I did come over to see if you wanted a drink. If you’re allowed. I mean, if you want one.”

  I smiled, gentler this time. “Not right now. Still settling my stomach from the sway of the boat.”

  “Right. Of course. If you need anything, just wave. I’ll be-” He fumbled for a gesture, landed on a half-salute, and then bolted.

  I watched him retreat across the deck. His friends popped back up behind the bar, huddling around him with the kind of restless excitement only teenage boys and a brush with fame can justify. I caught the flash of a grin, one of them elbowing the other in the ribs before they all split out to different areas of the deck.

  A laugh slipped from me before I could stop it.

  The wind caught my cloak, the cold biting sharper now that the sun had slipped below the horizon. The ocean stretched endless around us, and for a moment I could let myself pretend I wasn’t heading straight into a trap.

  I wasn’t looking forward to what waited on the mainland. But the crew seemed decent enough. And with a captain like Shaw, and a few eager fans to keep me company, maybe this voyage wouldn’t be so bad after all.