He turned to see Daya dropping a sack onto the barge. She looked resplendent in her royal-blue Bregonian cloak, which she’d asked to keep as memorabilia. The bronze shoulder pads shone in complement to her eyes, boots sturdy over her long legs.Ramson grinned at her. “Well, look at you. You were naught but a scrawny pirate when I met you.”
Daya snorted. “The correct term isbusinesswoman.And now I’mcaptain.”
“Surely you haven’t forgotten who introduced you to this opportunity in the first place,” Ramson reminded her.
“Surely you haven’t forgotten that you’ll be sailing onmyship.”
Ramson pretended to sigh. “I swear, all the women in my life—”
“—put you in the place you deserve?” Daya winked. She came to stand next to him, and for a few moments, they gazed out at the waters in silent companionship. “You know, Ramson,” she continued, “if I were you, I would never have given up what I had waiting for me in Bregon. I might have given you too little credit.”
“People tend to do that,” Ramson replied with a shrug. “I like to set expectations low and surprise people once in a while.”
Through the Salskoff Collegium gates, a figure had appeared, cloaked and hooded, walking briskly through the crowds. From this distance, she might have been unrecognizable to anyone—but Ramson could feel the pull of her presence as steady as the needle of a compass.
“I’ll be getting the boat ready,” Daya said. “Come down as soon as Ana arrives, won’t you? I’d like to stay on schedule.”
“I will.” His eyes never left the figure approaching. Ramson straightened and began to walk toward her.
They met by the riverside promenade, and as he took in the sight of her, the roar of the water beneath them and the rush of carriages and pedestrians all around them seemed to fall away. She’d shed her crimson cloak for a dark one, the hood castingshadows over her face—and Ramson suddenly had a fleeting memory: a prison cell, torchlight flickering against rough-hewn walls, the silhouette of a girl carved against the doorframe.
Ramson let his arms fall against the small of her back as she leaned into him, her breath warm against his cheeks. She lowered her hood and he reached up, tracing a finger against her jawline.
He kissed her, sighing as she thawed into him, her lips tasting sharp and sweet. She made a little noise of surprise as he drew her against him, holding her as he’d always wanted and letting his hands tangle in her hair. He felt her smile against him, felt her fingers roam over his chest, brushing down the length of his side. When she drew back to gaze up at him from beneath her dark lashes, her eyes brimmed with joy, and the smile she gave him bore the feeling of coming home. As he reached out to pull back a strand of hair and trail his fingers down her face, Ramson thought that this single moment might have been worth everything they’d been through.
“You have the map all prepared, as I asked?” she asked him.
“Have I ever disappointed you?” he replied.
A quirk of her eyebrow. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“No.” He smiled. “Kiss me again.”
She did, and when she drew back, she looked to the Salskoff Collegium. A flash of pride crossed her expression; her smile was rueful. “This isn’t how I imagined my life would go,” she said.
Ramson looked up, his arm around her waist. “No, me neither.”
“It’s better,” she said, grinning up at him. “I never thought I would be anything more than a monster, Ramson—I never thought I would use my Affinity forgood.”
He held her close to him, tilting his head so that his lipsbrushed against her temple as he spoke. “And I thought it was an eternity of sailing the seas withmethat you were excited about.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, con man.”
“Don’t lie to yourself, Witch.” He took her hand, twining their fingers together. “Come, Daya would have my life if we were to delay any longer.”
They made their way to the cutter. The sun hung low in the sky; beneath them, the river stretched all the way to the open sea. The sails bloomed like wings as they caught the wind; they hauled anchor and the cutter began to move, gliding forward with the current.
From the wheel, Daya tapped two fingers to her forehead in mock salute. Ramson grinned and turned to lean against the railing, a map and a compass in hand. Ana had spoken true, he realized, for there could be no life better than this: the wind at his back and the water out in front, sailing toward that open horizon with the girl he loved by his side.
He held out the map to her; on it, he’d marked the locations of the Affinite trafficking networks across the world, the ones that they would begin to hunt down. One by one.
Ana tilted her head as she studied it, then flicked a glance at him. He thought he saw a familiar flash of crimson in those eyes. “Where to first?” she asked.
Ramson took her hand and slipped his old, rusty compass into her palm. “Wherever your heart desires.”
GLOSSARY
CYRILIA
