"Enough lazing around, you dumbbells and tear-drunk monkeys!" Pan bellowed down from the crow's nest, through the wind and fiercely crashing waves. He was holding tight to the mast, his hair blown to one side and the Kraken's flag stuffed under his lowest belt. "Desi, Milo, I need you by the foremast. Ijah and Verban, the mizzen is yours. And then, Hristo and Ravko, you two work the mainmast."

Alex leant forward to get a better view of the young Krakens scrambling up to their feet. The poor one- and two-belters had barely sat down from scrubbing the deck all morning. Desi rolled her eyes as she pulled up Verban, while Milo was starting at the bottom of an already empty bottle. Where Ravko was, Alex couldn't see, but both Ijah and Hristo were well aware she had all eyes on them. Despite her scowl, they showed no sign of movement.

"You can do without the sighs or long faces. If I have to get down, you're in real trouble!" Pan shouted. "Especially you, Ijah and Hristo! If you can stay up all night and drown your sorrows in King Siga's Tears, you can move your goldbrick butt the next day too."

Facing Liene, Alex shook her head but found no support. The helmswoman shrugged. Pan could have easily taken six other Krakens to manage the sails, but he hadn't. Why? Because Alex had suggested so, and he took no advice from her.

She had also asked him to not do anything rash. That cautionary warning had ended with him climbing up the crow's nest, shirtless and showing off his well-formed muscles because why wear a shirt, at all? Yesterday, she had said he needed a shave, so he had decided to grow a beard. Nothing surprised her anymore. He had always rubbed it in that he was the Captain of the Kraken, and she but a guest that he tolerated. Still, since leaving Socota in a rush, it was all he did. If she as much mentioned they had to sail more to the east, he would go west, just to get under her skin.

A small but strong gust of wind rocked the crow's nest. Pan staggered, and his body banged against the edge of the basket, which prevented his fall.

"Be careful," Alex yelled. She should have held her tongue, but the words were out before she could swallow them.

Of course, he did the opposite. He grabbed the closest rope he could find, leapt down until his feet hit the shrouds. He slid along the wires, then reached for another rope. Two heartbeats later, he landed right in front of a befuddled Ravko.

He shot Alex a petulant, defiant look, wiggling his eyebrows. As she glared, he simply turned his back on her.

"Boys, girls," he said, "the Port is northeast of here, upwind. This means we're going to sail close-hauled, against the currents. You all know what that means?"

Desi looked at Verban, who shook his head. Ravko scratched his nose, and Milo and Hristo stared at their feet. Behind Alex, Ijah was too busy finding her place at the mizzenmast to answer Pan's question.

"Milo, Hristo, like what you're seeing up there? Is the answer written on the sloppily scrubbed deck?" Pan snapped. "You're a disappointment—all of you. Victims of the God of Sloth—He has you in their grasp. At your age, I didn't dare sleep in. I rose with the sun. After swabbing the deck, I polished every bolt and nook. Then I spent the rest of the morning learning to tie knots behind my back, blindfolded. By the time I was fourteen, I had steered the Kraken through a thousand treacherous winds. And what do you have to prove, except for drinking your weight in Tears and gambling your wages? You'll never earn an extra belt like this."

Alex snorted. They were either lies or gross exaggerations, and made little sense. What would be the point of a blindfold if you tied the knot behind your back, anyway? Pan had been Captain's Illona's son, raised to follow in her footsteps. The captain's cabin had always been his home. If he ever had to mob an inch of this ship, it would be because he had earned the punishment. 

The young Krakens didn't know any better, and if they did, they would be too frightened to go against their Captain. The older Krakens barely looked up from their tasks; they knew the truth but didn't care. It was how the one and two-belters grew a thick skin. Tough love, they called it. If this had anything to do with love, Alex would take no part.

"So, close-hauled—anyone?" Pan turned around, waiting for any of the one- and two belters to speak.

None of them opened their mouth.

Alex couldn't bear to watch it any longer. "It's a technique to sail upwind," she said. "You and the sail change positions, and after that, you have to react to the slightest change in the wind. It's dangerous."

"But effective," Pan argued. "Tragedy struck at the heart of the Greenlander nation. Imagine the gold they'll shower us with for taking their Princess home in a time of need."

"Princess Alana calls Sundale home, not the Port," Alex said.

"So, you want us to sail all the way to Sundale now?" Pan asked, stretching his arms. "I mean... we could... it's not like I have the copecks to head back to Scoria. You think good ol' Tommy will pay us even more if we deliver his daughter to his doorstep?"

An uncomfortable lump formed at the back of Alex's throat. Had she and Pan been alone, she would have sneered that this was a new low, even for him. Not that she could let him get away with this insolence. Seven hells, she was the Pirate Boyar. 

"I'm sorry the Greenlanders are at war and losing," she sneered. "And I'm sorry this means King Siga doesn't want to invest right now. General George is dead, and the Gods know the state of King Thomas. We need to—"

"You know what we need to do—what you need to do if the Greenlanders are losing? Pull out, all of us—not just this ship. If I were the Boyar, I wouldn't want another pirate dying for a war that isn't ours. And die we will. In a fool's mission, they'd rather sacrifice us than their own."

Too many Krakens were nodding; they had no idea what they were agreeing to.

"So, dying in the Southern Sea, drifting aimlessly to find land that might not exist—that would be a fine and worthy death?" Alex asked.

"I would rather die a pirate than a soldier."

Alex opened her mouth to retort but found no words, not when so many around her were parroting, "Aye." 

"We can't go south," she said.

"I know—I heard Siga. So what will we do?"

"I don't know," she said through clenched teeth. 

Her nails dug into the wood; it was all she could do to shake Wrath from her back. She averted her gaze, resisting the urge to kick something or someone. When that wasn't enough, she began to pace. Pan continued his instructions to the young Krakens.

His question was silly—they had held this same conversation four times, now five. She simply didn't have enough information to decide anything. He didn't understand. Though she was growing convinced he didn't want to understand.

The Kraken's Kiss was sailing roughly halfway between Socota and the Port of Diligence. They weren't alone; ships flanked them both at the star- and port side. Merchant ships—two and three masters heading for the Islands or Scorian shores, and a few Lohian doggers fishing in the deep waters. The wind hadn't been on their side. At no point in the last days had they been able to approach a trading boat to ask what the latest news from the north was. They would have heard something she could work with.

At least, she told herself that she would be able to take decisions. In reality, it had been years since she had to do anything but follow the next promise of Greenlander gold. The next mission was always waiting for them when the previous one ended. She had no evidence to say it would be different this time; they were still mercenaries. Either they would receive instruction to take Lana to Sundale or be sent to the waters near the border to sink Silvermarker ships to the bottom of the Jade Sea. For as long as The Greenlands stayed in Greenlander hands, they would have a steady income. And if the country fell into northern hands, she would personally assure the rats would be driven back to their side of the Horseshoe Mountains.

Verban bumped into her and stepped onto her toes. "Boyar Alex, you're in my way," he grumbled as he pulled at the rope. No niceties or apologies.

Alex pressed her back against the door of the captain's cabin. Sweet little Verban with the mop of black hair and shirt that was still a size too big, even though he was slowly growing taller than his puppy love, Desi. 

She didn't want the pirates to die, nor did she want to reduce them to soldiers. They were her people, her friends; the closest thing she had to a family.

But what was her role? She was no leader, no great inspirer, or teacher. On the best days, they tolerated her. Other times, they pretended she was air. Actually, less than air, for she had yet to meet a pirate who didn't care about the wind. Lately, they opposed her, worked against her, put her in a place where she had to choose between lives and coins, between her Greenlander heritage and her Jade Islandic responsibilities. She would still fight for Sunstone Castle when all seemed lost, but the pirates wouldn't. And if she didn't side with The Greenlands, she would betray Lana and Seb. Her heart panged at the idea.

Down on the deck, Hristo and Ravko called for more people to help with the sails. They didn't ask her, merely glimpsed at her before asking others.

Tired of being the Pirate Boyar nobody respected, Alex slipped into the captain's cabin. A rank fog of depression wafted over her. She didn't want to be there either, but she wouldn't feel unwanted. She could be of use.

Lana was still there where she had left her: sitting on the bed, curled up and staring through the porthole. Her hand was clutched around her wrist. The skin below the Princess' bracelet was no longer merely irritated, but bleeding and ulcerated. Her cheeks were hollow, her eyes lifeless.

"Pan is using every trick in his treasure box," Alex said, sounding more hopeful than she was. She sat down next to Lana. "Praise Charity and Kindness, we should be arriving in the Port within the next thirty to forty hours."

There came no thank you, nor an unnecessary joke or snide of a sleep-deprived mind. Not that Alex expected to, but it would have been... nice.

A deep frown etched between Lana's unplucked brows. Her hair was tangled and unwashed, her dress an uncharacteristic mess of blood, sweat, tears, and bile.

"Shall I take care of your hair?" Alex asked, already reaching for the brush by Lana's side. "I won't get the smell of Socota out—you'll need a good bath and fresh clothes before we greet Lord Simon but—"

"It's fine," Lana said. She still sounded stately and graciously—Alex didn't know how she did it. She didn't have to keep up appearances, not with her, not when she was clearly unwell.

"Don't lie to me. You're not fine." Alex inched closed to her friend. Then slowly and gently ran the brush through the Princess' knotty raven hair. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. If you wish, I can help you get to Sundale. The Port of Diligence doesn't have to be where our ways part."

"Except that they will," she said.

"Not necessarily," Alex suggested.

"They will."

The two words made her stomach churn. It felt like another rejection. "Lana, please, I'm trying to tell you there are options."

"And I'm telling you it's not needed." Lana winced as Alex attacked the next knot. "I've made up my mind. Whatever news we find in the Port, I'll best travel to Sundale by myself. Alone, I'll be invisible. Another vagabond on the road. I won't matter."

"You're no vagabond. You're a Princess, Muttonhead." Softly, Alex knocked the back of the brush against her friend's head. "You're talking such nonsense. Of course, you matter."

"In the past days, I had a lot of time to think. Perhaps too much," Lana said before Alex could say anything. "My mind always goes back to that conversation with Boyar Hekla."

Alex shuddered. "Him? He was a creep!"

"A creep with a point. Our nation exists for as long as people have faith in their King, for as long as the Lords think the current situation is better for their wallet and people. Outside our borders, other monarchs consider us friends if it's more profitable to trade with us than wage war. My job in all of this is to give people hope that I can influence the powers that be. I am daughter to the King, a close confidant of the current General and betrothed to the potential new General. I only matter for as long as people believe they can steer the monarchy through me."

"Nothing has changed."

"Everything has changed. Nick broke off the betrothal and—"

"Nick being a complete Portail should be the least of your worries. What are the chances of him becoming Seb's General? He's the real nobody, not you."

"We should have never sent him to Ice. Now George is dead, and Papa... had Mama or Papa written to King Siga, I wouldn't be half as worried as I am now." She licked her lips; they had bite marks from prolonged nervous chewing. Her voice cracked. "It's not good, none of this is."

"You don't know that. Maybe your father only fell off his horse and broke his arm. Your mother didn't write because she's too busy fussing over him, cursing him for riding in the middle of the night, while there's a war. Or she's spending all her time planning the General's funeral. All of Sundale will want to honour him—the entire country will. He was..."

"...Amazing." Lana whimpered. "I can't believe George is dead. He and Papa had everything under control. There were only skirmishes, far from home, near the borders, in the Jade Sea. I never considered they would venture near Sundale. We have the largest army. In direct combat, we would wipe them out."

"They're magicians, cunning and rotten to the core," Alex said. She divided Lana's hair into two sections to create a braid. "They play by no rules."

"So why should we?" Lana asked. For a split moment, she turned to Alex. "Cut my hair, then dye it whatever colour you can find. The less I look like me, the better."

"So stubborn," Alex muttered. "But if you think for a moment that I will let you go alone—I won't have it."

"You will. There is no reason for you to join me. Either I will have botched up a diplomatic mission and will receive a scolding both from Mama and Papa, or my suspicions are real, and entertaining a band of pirates will be the least of anyone's worries. In any case, I don't want to attract attention. Your place is with the Krakens, not with me." A faint smile curved her lips. "Besides, you and Pan have some courting to do. I still want to win my bet."

Alex groaned. "Forget it. He's insufferable ever since we left the Citadel. Like it's my fault King Siga backed down. The man did the most sensible thing—the time isn't right to disappear to unknown territories. We have to support the Greenlander crown."

"Do you?" Lana asked.

The question took Alex by surprise. "Of course, why would you of all people question that?" she said in annoyance. "Your father will need every man and woman he can get to fight off the Silvermarkers."

"But it's not your war."

"It is my war. I'm part Greenlander."

"But they aren't." Lana gesticulated towards the upper deck. 

"I know that."

"Then why don't you listen to them? Grandpapa once taught me that a good leader always thinks two steps ahead. Where do you see the pirates after the war, Pirate Boyar? Regardless of the outcome."

Alex crossed her arms. "I don't have the answer, and I'm not sure it matters. They only care about me when I tell them what they want to hear. My reign is no different to how it started—a joke taken too far. I serve no purpose. Last spring, only a handful of captains showed up in the Cove for our yearly meeting. I can't tell you where three-quarters of the crews are, and I haven't been able to tell you in a long while. Are they dead? Have they fled? Are they too busy fighting alongside the army—I wouldn't be able to tell you."

"Why did you never tell me that?"

Alex shrugged. "I didn't want you or your father to think I was losing control."

"I have travelled with you for many moons, Alex. I know what they think of you, what the crew talks about at night when you're asleep, what you and Pan bicker about. You and I are not so different."

Alex shook her head. "That not true."

"It is. The pirates want you in their life for as long as your existence benefits them. At the moment, they resent you for not defending their needs, for being good ol' Tommy's ward instead of the leader of pirates. Pan's filling the void—he's creating his own little empire. And I bet that is what happened to the other pirate captains."

"So, what would you want me to do? To the Greenlanders, I'm a Jade Islandic Pirate Lord, and to my own people, I'm a Greenie. It just shows that I don't belong anywhere."

"You might belong in the Southern Sea, being a partner to a captain confronted with hardships and dilemmas that will decide the fate of his crew, his country, and perhaps the entire world."

Alex huffed. "Easier said than done. And even if Pan were to confide in me, we have no funds to spend months at sea. The journey to Scoria alone will take all the funds the Krakens have."

"I might have some," Lana said. "In the past, I told you I didn't. It was a lie, partly. I didn't want to do something without Papa's knowledge and found King Siga the better man suited to take the risk, in case all you find south of Scoria is more water. But now, given all that is happening, I have nothing to lose. And neither do you."

"You can give me money?" Alex asked in disbelief. "But how?"

"You didn't think my Mama and Papa would have sent me on this journey without a little something for a rainy day?" She tapped her nose. "In my bag, there's a booklet. Promise paper. The pages are worthless without my signature and an amount specified in a designated area. I can fill it in for you, and you can take it to any town in the five kingdoms where they have a treasury or international trading merchants. One piece of paper for a few bags of gold, copecks, asses, silverlings or circles. Whatever currency you need."

Alex's mouth fell open. "How much?" Even whispering the words, she felt the God of Greed tugging at her shoulders.

"A thousand pieces of gold—it's all I can part with."

It would take them a long way. "Are you sure you want this? I could still—"

"Hush, I want you to be happy, and you won't find happiness in The Greenlands, Pirate Girl."

"And what about you—will you be happy?"

"I'll find my purpose, one way or another. I am the daughter of King Thomas."

"I remember you saying that you didn't matter."

"I chose not the matter, not right now. God of Patience, I'll wait..." She exhaled slowly. "For another dawn, when the wind has changed. And then people will remember who I am."