He sat on the deck, sensing the life in the wood beneath him, in the ocean all around him. Felt the breeze against his nose, as if he was the ship. The connection that tethered them had gotten stronger in the last day, and somehow, Tor knew he could command the ship to do whatever he wanted, as long as he was aboard.
It was a good distraction, testing this bond. Because if Tor thought really hard about Engle or the prophecy, he found he agreed with him more than Melda. And if he had it his way, he might change their course and turn around in the middle of the night…
But Engle’s plan to go back and fight wouldn’t work, either. They were no match for the dozens of Calavera ships, all smoke, corpse, and bone. Only with the pearl’s power could they send the Calavera back across the horizon, to the bloodied waters from which they came.
And what of the Calavera captain, the Swordscale traitor, and the mysterious spectral? They had disappeared in a flash of light, not relying on the ships to travel. Were they already close to finding the pearl? Would they use its power to destroy Estrelle while Tor was miles away, unable to help?
He sighed, throwing his doubts behind him. All they did was weigh him down.
They needed to find the pearl—without one of them dying. He didn’t care what the prophecy said. They would find a way to do both.
Tor smiled, then. Because, as impossible as that seemed, they had done it before. A month ago, their lifelines had predicted their death.
Yet there they were.
He took a deep breath. Melda was right. A long-dead fortuneteller wouldn’t control their destiny.
Tor spent the afternoon reading through the Book of Seas. The more he knew about the obstacles they might face, the better he could prepare for them. He read until he fell asleep, the sun shining across his arms and legs, the clothes provided by the ship light and airy. Perfect for sailing.
When he awoke, the stars were above him, huddled together like gossiping old women. Watching him.
He straightened. The deck was empty. Had they left him out here all night? Had they gone to bed without dinner?
No, not empty.
As Tor faced the bow, he saw something that knocked the air right out of his lungs.
The Night Witch stood at the helm of the ship, watching the water. She turned, as if feeling his gaze on her back.
“He knows I am gone,” she said. She walked slowly toward him, but the deck did not creak beneath her bare feet. “He knows my curses have been lifted.”
Tor wanted to say something, ask a question, scream maybe, but his body had gone rigid. He couldn’t even open his mouth. All he could do was watch as the Night Witch walked closer, then closer still.
Until she was leaning before him.
“It won’t be long now. You are in danger, Tor Luna.” At her final word, she reached a hand forward and pressed a sharp nail to his forehead.
He awoke again with a gasp.
The sky was not night, but the bruise of late afternoon.
Only Vesper stood on the upper deck, watching him. “Are you…all right?” she said awkwardly.
Tor blinked half a dozen times in a row. He tried to stand but found that his legs were still slightly numb beneath him. His hands shook at his sides. “I’m fine,” he said, breathless.
The Night Witch was visiting him, traveling through nightmares. Not to torment him…
But to warn him.
Vesper did not leave. She bent down and sat next to him. “That was a close call, right?”
Tor had to think for a moment what she was talking about, mind still filled with the image of the Night Witch.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “The creature in the library?”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“What do you think of the prophecy?” She glanced at him sidelong, waiting intently for his reply.
Tor breathed out. Shrugged. “I hope Melda’s right, that fate is fluid.” Tor glanced down at his lifeline. It was a scatter of deep valleys and high peaks, too messy and complicated to accurately read or rely on. Engle’s and Melda’s were nearly identical. Did that mean that the three of them were safe?
Vesper followed his stare. “Those don’t work out here,” she said simply. She held her own palm out. Just a faint rainbow line ran across her hands. Faded almost completely. Impossible to read. “Once, we had some, just like you. But the power of Emblem Island has diminished. The farther away from its land you get, the less it affects you.” She tapped against his lifeline. “As far as I’ve heard, these don’t predict what happens on the sea. Not anymore.”
Tor hoped the waterbreather was misinformed. Because if both she and the prophecy were right, then it didn’t matter that their lifelines were long.
Any of them could die.
He tried to stand again and found that his body had completely thawed. As he stretched his arms over his head, wincing, he thought of something.
“How did you escape the pirates? And get to Estrelle before them?” he asked. She had reached their shore far sooner than the Calavera. It was a fact that made him a little suspicious of Vesper. How had she escaped the pirates, when the rest of Swordscale had been captured?
She studied him. Tor had a feeling she was making a quick decision, whether or not to tell him. Finally, she shrugged. “There is an underwater portal to Swordscale, just off Estrelle’s shores. When they attacked, my grandmother told me to go to it. And I did.”
“What’s the portal tied to?”
“A sunken ship.”
Tor blinked. The bone boat—the one he had visited countless times on his swims over the years, the one he had not dared to touch, because of his town’s superstitions against it. “I know that boat,” he said.
She lifted a shoulder. “I know.” Vesper’s face reddened slightly. “I’ve seen you before…from a distance.
