Ivy sat at the bow of the ship, gazing out at the sunset over the endless sea. The blue and gold figurehead of a dancing mermaid rested below her feet, and she watched as a pair of yellow-beaked gulls landed on the tip of the bowsprit. She closed her eyes as a wave crashed up against the hull, misting her toes. A bottle of Virian’s hundred-gold-a-bottle wine clutched in her unbroken hand, she tried to forget the past few weeks. Years. Hell, decade.

Since they had boarded, she hadn’t spoken a word to anyone, and no one had bothered to speak to her. That was four days ago. It was fine with her. She hadn’t felt like talking. Maybe she wouldn’t ever again.

Soft footsteps against the deck broke through the sound of the ship cutting through the waves and the strain of the rigging against the wind. Great. Someone had finally come to try and break the silence she had been enjoying. It couldn’t be Raenin, who blamed her for Armond’s death. Nor Virian, who wouldn’t leave his sister’s side. Among the rest on board, it left only one person who would care to talk to her.

“Ivy?” a soft feminine voice asked from behind. Huh. Not the woman Ivy had been expecting.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Raenin’s wife, her dress stained a dark red, hair a tangled mess, and dark circles under her eyes. The woman must be sparing no effort to keep Camellia alive.

“Yeah?” Ivy asked, her voice almost unrecognizable and hoarse from disuse.

Her visitor frowned, misinterpreting the harsh tone. Good. Maybe she’d leave Ivy alone.

“Are you…okay?”

Ivy let out a rough, grating laugh.

“What do you think?”

“I think everyone is worried about you. And—”

“What was your name again?”

“Merideth”

“Okay, Merideth, why don’t you piss off.”

Ivy turned back to watching the sea.

“No,” Merideth said, all softness leaving her voice, “not until you return to the realm of the living. I have enough to worry about with my patient down in the hold.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re a liar.”

With a speed she did not think she was still capable of, Ivy bounced to her feet and spun on the woman. Her wine bottle fell from her slick fingertips, shattering against the wooden railing.

“Go, awa—”

Merideth slapped her. The sudden jolt of pain stunned her for a moment, her head forced to one side. That was, of course, until the boiling rage bubbled up from her core, setting her whole body aflame. She swiveled her head back on Merideth with murder in her eyes.

“Good,” Merideth said, “so you can still feel something.” Ivy extended her left hand across her broken arm held up in a sling, feeling for her dagger, but Merideth didn’t let up. “So, are you going to kill me then? Will that solve all your problems? Make you feel better?”

Ivy’s hand froze an inch above the hilt of her blade.

“Why?” she asked through a clenched jaw. “Why are you bothering me? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because you aren’t the only one hurting.”

“Me?” Ivy stepped forward so she was less than a pace away. She felt the water in her eyes start to build but forced it back. “You think I’m hurting? I’m not the one who lost their dad. Or the one who got shot. Or who’s watching his sister slowly die an agonizing death. I’m not the one you need to be worrying about.”

“Not even you believe that,” Merideth said, placing a hand on Ivy’s uninjured arm.

Somehow, a tear escaped its jailer, streaking down her cheek. And another. The overflowing well of pent-up sorrow came crashing forward all at once. She didn’t remember how or when, but she ended up in Merideth’s arms, sobbing.

“I should have…” She sniffed. “I should have just died like a good witch is supposed to. None of this would have happened. I should have let them take me.”

“You would trade your life for that man?” Merideth asked, rubbing Ivy’s back. “Armond was no innocent.”

Ivy pushed away, wiping her face against her sling, regaining some semblance of dignity.

“And Camellia? She isn’t?”

“That wasn’t your fault. Neither is Armond for that matter.”

Ivy grunted.

“Tell that to Raenin.”

“I have. He is as stubborn as you.”

“Who cares? Armond isn’t innocent? I’m so much worse. It should have been me.”

“I know what he’s asked my husband to do,” Merideth said, shaking her head, “I refuse to believe the girl who was just crying in my arms for her friends matches up to the infamous ‘Bloody Prince’.”

It was too hard not to laugh. Self-hatred overtook everything else, and her heart spilled something that she never intended to tell anyone.

“Do you want to know why Raenin was so afraid of me?” Ivy asked. “Why he wanted to get you as far as possible from me?” Merideth said nothing. “Because I like it. Every bit of it. It gives me immense pleasure when I feel my blade part another’s flesh. I became Armond’s assassin because I love killing people. And I’m good at it. Do you get it? I’m the worst person you’ve ever or will ever meet. So, thanks for trying, but I don’t deserve your sympathy. Not from someone who’s spent their life saving people.”

The look on Merideth’s face was priceless. Ivy pushed past her and down the steps of the foredeck, only to run into a solemn-faced Rose, leaning against the railing on the main deck. A few of the sailors working the rigging glanced over at them, smiling. Idiots.

“That was cruel,” Rose said.

Ivy rolled her eyes.

“What, the truth?” she asked. “Wait, no. I guess I did misspeak. I called myself the worst person in the world, but I forgot about you.”

She tried to brush her aside as she had done to Merideth, but the older witch caught her arm—the broken one—and latched on tight. Ivy sunk her gaze down to the offending, pain-inducing grasp, and then to Rose’s face. The threat in her eyes could not be mistaken.

“Stop this childish tantrum, Ivy,” Rose said.

“Tantrum? You know exactly who I am. What did I say wrong, huh?”

“You are wallowing in self-pity while claiming to be, as you say, ‘the worst person in the world’. So, which is it? Are you the evil murderer who deserves everything coming to her, or should we all feel bad for you?”

“I’m not talking about this with you of all people.”

Rose tightened her grip further, and Ivy had to clench her teeth against the pain.

“Yes, you are.”

“Rose, I swear I’ll cut off your hand if you don’t let go.”

“Do it then. Show us all how evil you really are. Show the world so it can punish you as you deserve.”

“Rose—”

“What, Ivy? What are you going to do? Do you think you can get rid of me like you did the healer woman? Do you think you can push everyone away with empty threats and half-truths?”

Ivy pulled against Rose’s grip, only making things worse. Even if Ivy’s arm wasn’t broken, Rose had always been stronger physically. She felt her eyes begin to tear up again but swore to herself it was only because of the pain.

“Half-truths?” she asked, resolved to get through Rose’s lecture. If she gave the older witch what she wanted, she would leave Ivy alone.

“You’ve killed in war, self-defense, or rapists and murderers who would have got the noose had they been caught. But because of your…preferences, you made yourself sound like a monster. Half-truths.”

“Yeah well, I learned from the best liar there is.”

Rose took a deep breath.

“You got me there,” she said, and then finally let go of Ivy’s arm, turning to the railing to look at the water. Ivy decided to join her instead of stomping off. She’d just hear it later anyway. “I tried to control you. It backfired at almost every step, yet I kept trying. I made a mistake. I am sorry.”

If only it wasn’t so hard to believe anything Rose said. Ivy reached up with her good hand to massage her temples.

“Or,” she said, “you had already seen all this play out, and this apology is just part of some five-hundred-year plan.”

The laugh that escaped Rose’s lips almost sounded genuine.

“You give me too much credit.”

“You’re the scariest, most powerful person I know.” Rose gave her a strange look. “What?”

“You just met the demon who slaughtered our kind two thousand years ago.”

“Yet I’m still more wary of you,” Ivy said, followed by an awkward chuckle. Rose joined in, but it still felt forced. “Why’d you have to be such a manipulative bitch?”

Rose shrugged.

“Why’d you have to be a psychotic murderer?”

This time, Ivy laughed in earnest, Rose likewise. They stood there, just giggling at sea like idiots, watching the waves pass by.

“You know you’ll always be a sister to me,” Ivy said, once she had caught her breath.

“Yes, I know.”

“Right. I suppose you would.”

“It is not what you are thinking. Which I know sounds bad when I say that. But I haven’t. You asked me not to when you returned. Truly.”

“No, I threatened you. But you know I’m not watching all the time. You could have easily.”

“I have Synthia’s memory of Calanthe severing her magic with Serathil. believe me. I do not ever plan to experience such a thing.” She propped up her elbows on the railing and rested her chin in her hands. “Besides, I think it might be healthy for me to trust in someone. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the feeling.”

The offhand mention of more ancient witches just reminded Ivy of how much Rose kept to herself. That name, Serathil. The demon Algramath had called her weapon the same thing.

“Rose,” Ivy said, “if I’m going to accept you back into my life, I can’t be playing mind games anymore. You have to tell me everything.”

“Okay.”

Ivy sighed.

“Am I stupid for wanting to believe you?”

“We can start now if you want.”

“No. Against all odds, you’ve actually managed to cheer me up. I have a feeling a bit of brutal honesty on your part is going to make me hate you again. At least for a little bit.”

Rose squeezed her good arm this time.

“You’re probably right,” she said, saying nothing to dissuade Ivy’s fears. “Tomorrow, then.” She pulled back from the railing and headed up the stairs to the foredeck where Merideth still stood.

Ivy did feel a little guilty now for scaring the poor woman. She’d have to fix that later. Or maybe it wouldn’t matter, especially if Raenin never forgave her. She let out a long breath. So much for lightening her mood.

The sun was disappearing behind the horizon, and she headed below deck for more wine. It was the only thing that allowed her to sleep these days. The hold was full of crates of the delicious fruity nectar. On the flight from Atrican, her power had instinctively chosen the wine cargo ship to bring Camellia to. Once she saw them, there was no leaving. It had only been a matter of bringing everyone else here after that.

She plopped herself up against a stack of them and pried open the nearest box with her dagger. The six bottles within didn’t look like enough. It was a good thing there were hundreds.

A bottle deep she contemplated why thousands of gold worth of luxury wine was packed for an emergency escape from a siege.

Virian would probably say, “I did it for you.”

Which she’d respond with, “You’re just saying that so I’ll like you again.”

No doubt the wine was included as a commodity. It was more than worth its weight in gold if his words were to be believed. She took another swig of the second bottle. But damnit, his words were working on her.

Actually, wait. Did she just have a conversation with herself, as Virian? Or did that actually happen? Ah, well. Didn’t matter. She’d give him some points either way. It was really, really, good.

In fact, it was better shared. She clutched her bottle and struggled to her feet, swaying with the bounce of the ship. Somehow, the thing was already half empty. Eh. She dropped it and grabbed a fresh one, stumbling up one narrow flight of stairs to the cabins. The crew and most of the passengers slept together in the main bunk room right off the stairs, but there were also several private quarters. The captain’s for one, but three others as well. They had given Virian one, being royalty and all.

She staggered between the hammocks and cots filled with stinking sailors close to waking for the night shift. Bumping and stumbling into every other man, they woke with angry grumbles until they saw who had offended them. Each one, eyes filled with hope until she passed them by with her next step. Even her addled mind questioned the stupidity of men. Did they really believe she had come for them?

Eventually, she made it to the doors of the private chambers and flopped against the door of what looked like the largest save for the captain’s. For a moment she just stood there, leaning against it, unable to knock. She had probably already made enough noise, falling against the door, but still, she couldn’t bring herself to go further. He wouldn’t even be here. Not with Camellia in the next room over. This was stupid. This was—

The door opened and she fell forward, her head bumping into something soft, yet firm. Silk fabric caressed her cheek, and she just inhaled. He smelled…right.

Two hands gripped her shoulders, though his touch was not overly tight or rough. He moved her back, just far enough so that they could see each other.

“Ivy?” he asked.

She kicked the door closed behind her and smiled, holding up the bottle of wine.

“Hi, Virian.”