Surround yerself with a loyal crew, for even the finest ship sinks without hands to steer her

  -Quoted from Sparkbeard the Stormcaller

  Her father had approved of Rose’s idea, while her uncle had said she should stay on the Emerlan Isle. Her aunt had simply told her to follow her heart, which was sound advice but not the material contribution she’d desired at the time.

  Rose had had a teary farewell with the trio that morning, after the largest breakfast she’d ever eaten. Pastries, scrambled eggs, toast, every jam under the sun, and all manner of meats and fish.

  She was struggling to walk down the streets with her stomach so laden, but her heart was full and there was a smile on her face. Despite the impending threat of war, the people of Greengate were cheery and the city was bustling.

  Stall owners hawked their wares, shouting colourful descriptions across the crowds in hopes of drawing fresh customers while couriers scuttled about. Rose had a particular destination in mind—the accommodations where the former residents of Fairwater Bay had been put up by the prince.

  Back when they’d discovered the survivors she’d seen plenty of familiar faces, but her priority had been to talk with her father. Now that she had a little free time, Rose wanted to reconnect with faces from the past before she left the island once more.

  Her plan wouldn’t take her too far, but it would mean being on the move constantly and never docking on the Emerlan Isle. The houses weren’t as extravagant as her uncle’s manor, but they were made of sturdy wood and tough bricks.

  When Rose had run away from home, she’d left behind a few rifts that she wished to heal. Time heals all wounds supposedly, but it took a guiding hand to ensure there were no scars left behind.

  She had to stop and ask a woman she didn’t recognise for directions, eventually being pointed to the right house. Stopping outside the door, she took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

  Not only had her and Daniel fallen out months before she left home, but on that fateful night she had stolen his family’s ship. Her father told her he’d paid for a new one, but she felt an apology was deserved.

  Rose raised her fist to the door, hesitating for a moment before rapping against the wood three times. The sound was clear and sharp, reminding her of the finely hewn planks of The Crown of Salt—or Liberty, as they had called her.

  Silence followed. Then she heard the clang of metal and a woman’s shout, followed by the sound of steps on the wooden flooring.

  The door creaked open and she withdrew her fist from the air right as a gentle gust of wind buffeted her face. A smiling woman looked down on her, cheeks red from the heat of the stove and an apron covered in flour.

  “Rose! How delightful to see you, dear girl. Come in, come in. To what do we owe this pleasure? We heard how you fought for us against those unruly invaders. You have our heartfelt gratitude,” she whisked Rose inside the house and shut the door behind her before she could respond.

  Rose sensed nothing but genuine appreciation in Agatha’s warm tone, but she couldn’t help but fear it was all an act. She had stolen from them, so why was she treating Rose so kindly?

  Then again, the person she most feared meeting was Daniel himself. Adults had a way of forgetting children’s misdeeds and brushing them off as the folly of youth.

  Her father had told her that Jeremiah—Daniel’s father—didn’t mind the theft of the boat and had claimed “It needed too much fixin’, the girl did me a favour,” when he’d woken up and discovered it gone.

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  She imagined her father would’ve reacted in much the same way if his boat had been stolen, which made it easy to believe. Daniel, however, was not an adult. Rose had no idea whether he would hold a grudge.

  He’d already felt a particular way about Rose and her ambitions prior to that day. Would her first act of piracy have cemented that, or would his parents' indifference and her actions have swayed his mind?

  They entered the kitchen, Agatha gushing about the generosity of the prince and how eager the villagers were to settle into their new life at Greengate. Rose had expected the invasion to derail their lives.

  It had, of course. Families bereaved the dead, industry was ruined for the time being, and it would be years until they could rebuild. Assuming they could rebuild with the impending invasion. Either way, their spirits were unshaken, even if their homes had been lost, which brought a smile to her face.

  As they entered the kitchen, the warmth of the fire hit her like her mother’s embrace, reminding her of times past. She would never again have grilled fish and potatoes cooked to perfection, even if the greatest chef in the world prepared them.

  That wound stung twice over, the loss of Nasar another heavy chain weighing her down at all times, though she was gradually growing accustomed to it. Agatha either didn’t notice the look in her eyes or ignored it purposefully, but Rose was thankful nonetheless.

  Daniel sat at the dining table, facing away from her as he wrote in a small notebook. Rose paused briefly and took another breath as Agatha flicked the boy’s ear gently.

  “Daniel, stop being rude, we have a guest,” she scolded, pointing at Rose.

  He huffed and turned to face her, eyes narrowing as he saw who it was. “Rose,” he said curtly, not getting up from the table.

  “Ow! What the heck was that for?” he cursed as his mother slapped him round the back of the head and dragged him to his feet.

  “Don’t be rude, why don’t you two kids go and catch up while I finish cooking. You’ll join us for breakfast won’t you dear?” Agatha asked with twinkling eyes that were hard to refuse.

  Rose still had the massive breakfast weighing her down like cargo on a ship, but the tantalising aroma of grilled doori sent tingles down her spine. A few bites can’t hurt, she convinced herself. “Of course,” she replied with a smile.

  Daniel groaned but assented to his mother’s will, grabbing his notebook and slamming it shut while pushing past Rose towards the neighbouring room. “Come on then, let’s get this over with,” he said with a scowl when she didn’t immediately follow.

  The furnishings were sparse, a few chairs with leather that seemed older than the building and a worn table. Still, it was more luxury than most of the villagers would’ve experienced in their lives. The wealth of the island concentrated in the capital.

  Daniel sat first, slumping in the chair while giving her a look of disdain that told her exactly how this conversation would go. Despite that, Rose sat down opposite and rested her chin on her palm, ready to hear him out.

  “Honestly, I don’t know why mother is so kind to you. You stole our boat, for Sylack’s sake! You’re also a damned pirate. Sure, thanks for killing that guy and all, but why did you have to come here?” Daniel began by digging his fingers in old wounds and tearing them open like a cannon through the hull of a ship.

  Rose sat there in silence for a few seconds, letting his words sink in. He had justification for his feelings, but at the same time she was angry at him dumping everything on her as though he had no part in the rotting of their once thriving friendship.

  She could’ve tried to justify her point of view, but she suspected it would do little to change his attitude. Instead, she asked him a question.

  “Did you truly always want to be a fisherman?”

  He froze, staring at her like a doori in the path of a carriage. “Of course. What would be greater than following my father’s footsteps. Fishing is our heritage,” he snapped.

  “True. Fishing is what the people of Fairwater Bay have done for generations. That’s not what I asked, though. What were you writing when I came in?”

  He tucked the book under his leg, out of sight. “That’s none of your business.”

  She had him in her claws. Rose knew exactly what was in his notebook, given that he’d spent plenty of their childhood talking about his dream of becoming a shipwright. Not that it was possible without money—more money than a fisherman earned.

  “You know Daniel, if you want to learn how to build ships, the best way is to experience them. Do you want to sit around in your kitchen, scribbling in your little book while wondering what could have happened if you took a leap of faith?”

  “Are you saying that becoming a dirty pirate like you will help me become a shipwright? Dream on, Rose,” he scoffed.

  “You don’t need to be a pirate. You just need to be a man. Our country needs heroes right now, not stroppy little boys. What if I told you there was a way to get all the money and materials you needed to start your first project?”