It was Markos.
He stood alone on deck, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. When he saw me, he froze. His eyes were sunken, reddened.
“Who are you?” he said flatly. “You aren’t her. I don’t believe it.”
“I don’t care.” I stepped down, battered boots rubbing the raw blisters on my heels. “I’ve been walking for miles, and I’m sunburned. I have sand everywhere a person could possibly have sand on her body, and, yes, I do mean everywhere. And I’m starving.”
He blocked me. “What did Caro do the first time I tried to kiss her?”
“You know what I did. We were both there,” I exclaimed in exasperation. “Oh, I see. This is a test.” I rolled my eyes. “I slapped you. And dumped a bucket of cold water on you.”
He felt my salt-stiffened shirt. I hated how haunted his eyes looked. “You were shot. You went into the water. The drakon surely swallowed you up.”
“She would never eat me.”
“Then you drowned.”
I whispered, “She would never let me drown.”
Roughly he shoved aside the neckline of my shirt. Fingers splayed, he felt his way across my skin.
“What are you—?” Then I realized. Seizing his hand in mine, I brought it an inch lower, to the frayed hole in the right side of my shirt, under my collarbone. The sea had washed the matted blood away.
I stuck my finger through the rip in the fabric and waggled it. “All right?”
He let out a ragged breath. “Caro. I don’t even—there’s a scar. But—it’s all healed.” The look he gave me was so intense it took me by surprise.
I rolled up my sleeve. “And here’s where the Black Dogs shot me. The very night we met. As you ought to remember.” I pushed past him. “Now, if you’re finished manhandling me, can I come on my own ship? Need I mention I was recently shot?”
I fixed my shirt, wondering if he could hear how fast my heart raced. My ears burned. I had to put space between him and me, to restore things to their normal state. I swung through the hatch and onto the ladder.
“I thought you might be a shadowman. An assassin from the Theucinians.” He pelted me with questions. “Where have you been? Why weren’t you eaten by the drakon? And how did you get to Valonikos?”
I hopped down the last two rungs. The remnants of a meal were laid out on the table. “Don’t know.” I grabbed a block of cheese and bit right into it. I’d never been so hungry. “This is where I walked out of the sea,” I said around a mouthful of cheese. “Just south of the city.”
Markos stared at me, dazed. Or maybe he was just appalled by my table manners. “What do you mean, walked out of the sea? Not from under it?”
“Markos, I’m fine. She would never let harm come to me.” I swallowed. It seemed strange to be speaking of such magical, personal things in conversation. We might as well be talking about the weather.
“You spoke to her.”
I picked up a hunk of bread. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You really spoke to a god.”
“Markos.”
“Are you alive or dead right now?” He looked at me as if I was not quite human.
“I feel alive. I’d rather not think any harder about it. Where is everyone?” I sucked in a sharp breath. “Nereus is still here, isn’t he?” The terrible thought occurred to me that maybe his task was finished and the god in the sea had taken him back. I hadn’t gotten to say good-bye.
“He took Daria to see the fish market. The Bollards have rooms above their offices here. That’s where your parents are staying. And Kenté.”
I dropped the butter knife with a clatter. “Markos, how stupid are you? You shouldn’t be alone here!”
“I wanted to be alone. My cousin’s wife insists on fussing over me incessantly. I came down here for quiet. To think.”
“About what?”
He raised his eyebrows. “What do you think?” The silence that followed was both significant and awkward. He broke it by clearing his throat. “Would you like some ale?”
“I think not. I need water, and lots of it.” My throat and skin felt tight and parched.
He reached across the table to refill my tin cup. I smiled. It was funny to see him pick up the jug and serve me—something he would never have done when we first met. I marveled at how comfortable it felt to be eating with him.
“What happened, back at the island?” I asked. “I don’t understand how Kenté hid you from the shadowman. Are those meat pies?”
He pushed the tray at me. The pies were cold, but I hardly cared. “Actually she didn’t. We were behind that stack of barrels on deck. When Nereus yelled, it woke me up just enough to remember we were in danger. I grabbed Daria and dove behind the barrels.” His face colored. “Well, it was more like she grabbed me. I think he’d been concentrating on me, you see. It was the strangest thing. I was so confused.”
“I know. I felt it too.”
He went on. “It wasn’t until Cleandros started shouting at Kenté that I realized he hadn’t seen us hide. When we didn’t reappear, he thought it meant she was more powerful than him. That’s when he got angry and shot you.”
As I ate and drank, he told me what had become of our allies. Five days had passed since I’d gone overboard. Nereus had taken Vix into Iantiporos, where Kenté visited the offices of Bollard Company. The Bollards had sent ships to retrieve the Antelope’s crew and transport the Black Dogs to the appropriate authorities. Pa and Ma took it upon themselves to make sure Markos and Daria reached Valonikos safely. Ma almost sent Kenté back to Siscema, only Daria pitched a fit and refused to sail without her. Meanwhile the wherrymen had bid them farewell and begun the journey back to Hespera’s Watch on Conthar.
“Do you still have my things?” I asked.
“In the captain’s cabin.” He pushed back his chair. “I’ll—”
I also stood. My heart pounded. “No, I’ll get them.”
The cabin had been cleaned, the bed made up with fresh sheets and blankets. I found my belt on a shelf. Sliding one of the pistols from its holster, I traced the mountain lion. Then I touched the brim of my three-cornered hat, sitting on the shelf beside it. They looked the same. But everything was changed.
I spun to find Markos leaning in the doorway. My eyes dropped to his jacket. It was the one he’d bought in Siscema, though the rest of his clothes were new. I longed to run my fingers down that gilt trim. It was a very attractive coat, especially on him.
“Still wearing it.” He stretched like the lions on my Akhaian dueling pistols and grinned. “Would you like me to be Tarquin Meridios again?”
“Why would I?”
“Admit it, you found him handsome.”
By all the gods, he was flirting with me, barely half an hour after I’d come back from the dead.
“There were things I wanted to say to you,” I blurted out. “Not to Tarquin Meridios. You.” My cheeks warmed. “But you were dead.”
“I felt similarly,” he said. “But then you were dead. Please, go on.”