“What I know,” said Ysabet, looking out to sea as the island grew larger and nearer, “are the stories I’ve heard from the north. A princess working in Lord Arkelion’s maidensfold as a spy for Red Crown. A death-defying escape. An alliance with the notorious Wolf. Rumors too of a girl with miraculous powers. Some say she is the Sun Queen. A fleet of imperial warships sunk by a freak storm in Karajak Bay. An army of monsters. Astavar invaded at last and fallen. The kings dead, but no royal children found. And now, a girl named Jatana and her brother arrive on my islands, wanting to meet me. Wanting to build an army.”

Ysabet paused, then turned to look back over her shoulder.

Navi’s chest ached with fresh sorrow, but she held Ysabet’s curious gaze and did not flinch.

“We may be scattered, here in the Vespers,” Ysabet continued, “and our number much smaller than I would like. Red Crown is weak in these islands, but it still lives, and my crows fly far.” Ysabet hesitated. Her voice was hard, but there was something soft to the bow of her mouth. “I know what it is to lose your family, Navana. The unfairness of it. The agony of grief. This is why I fight. You are among friends here. I simply had to see you for myself before I could be sure.”

“And my brother?” Navi asked, raising her chin. She would hide her astonishment and her heartbreak. This Red Crown queen would not rattle her. “His companions?”

“They are probably resting, like the reasonable people they are. He is no doubt pacing lines into my floor as he awaits your arrival. Not sure we’ll ever be true friends, he and I. Don’t think he’ll want to forgive me for frightening you as I’ve done. Ah, well.” She flashed a little grin at Navi. “You and I can be friends instead.”

Navi was not sure how to respond, so she chose not to. They sat in silence as their small fleet of boats approached the island that was no longer so distant. As the waves brought them closer, she noticed how comfortably Ysabet sat in the prow, patiently watching the island near.

Then there was a rumble deep in the water. Even the air seemed to tremble. Navi noticed one of the island’s black peaks spewing steam.

Ysabet caught her staring. Her lips quirked. “Not to worry, princess. Raratari is not set to erupt for another three months. I have two Saterketa scholars in my employ, and they have never been wrong in their readings of the earth.”

“Hopefully this will not be their first mistake,” Navi said, irritated that her alarm was so obvious.

Ysabet laughed, then stood in the prow and called out commands to the other boats. They passed through a wide mouth of rock and into a black cove, and Navi’s jaw dropped, for the cliffs ahead of them began to open—two massive doors tugged apart by some hidden mechanism Navi’s mind burned to inspect. The doors moved slowly but quietly for their size. Ingeniously crafted to resemble rock, disguised by grime and vegetation, they opened to reveal an inner hidden cove. And in the water sat an enormous dark ship, half-built. Cannons glinted on its lower decks.

Navi joined Ysabet at the prow, gazing in wonder as they glided past. It was gigantic, easily matching the size of an imperial warship.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Ysabet glanced over. “My mother designed it. The last plans she drew before her death, and one of her only possessions my uncle managed to save. I’ve enhanced her ideas myself. Uncle says I’ve the same gifts my mother had. An eye for design. A mind for building.”

That stirred something in Navi’s mind, some distant memory that nagged at her to look closer. She had long ago heard of someone in the Vespers, some figure renowned for shipbuilding. But she dismissed the thought, not allowing herself the distraction. Though she knew very little about sea craft, she appreciated the ship’s bold, sleek lines. It radiated efficiency and confidence, and even as it sat there, docked, it seemed to hum with an eagerness to move.

“She looks fast,” Navi observed.

Ysabet crooked a quizzical smile at her. “You know ships, do you?”

Navi swallowed her slight twinge of embarrassment. Maybe Ysabet’s amusement was a good thing. “No,” she admitted, “but I like the look of her.”

That made Ysabet beam. “Such a short time we’ve known each other, and already you know just how to make me preen.”

Utterly disarmed by the sight of Ysabet’s broad grin, Navi fumbled for a witty response—and then heard a shout.

She looked up and cried out in relief, for Malik stood on one of the rope bridges strung along the cove walls. She waved back to him, then clasped her hands at her chest and whispered a soft prayer.

Ysabet watched her carefully. She sat and crossed her arms, leaning back against the prow. “I started building her not knowing what to do with her,” she said quietly. “For years I’d been fighting little battles, flitting from island to island and stabbing the Empire here and there like a mosquito. Stealing weapons, raiding their warehouses. Hating myself for not being able to do more. Hating the people of the Vespers for not fighting harder, which was unfair of me, but there it is.

“And then,” Ysabet said, leaning forward, elbows on her knees, “I heard of this astonishing girl. The Sun Queen, say those who still pray to the empirium, hoping it will come back. And then I heard of Astavar falling, and I realized we’re approaching something. A precipice, maybe. And I could either sit and wait for the world to fall out from under me, or I could do something, even if it was stupid and wild. So I took out my mother’s plans after years of keeping them locked away, and I started to build. For what purpose, I did not know. But if I was ever in need of a ship, I would have one. Then I heard about you, and for the first time in ages, I felt something I liked. I felt hopeful again.”

Ysabet’s brown eyes held a fervent light. “What do you want, princess?” she said quietly. “Why do you fight? If you had an army, what would you do with it?”

They had reached a small pier. The two soldiers in their boat jumped out and tied it off with thick knotted ropes. Navi remained inside, staring at Ysabet with her heart in her throat. Not for weeks had she felt this surge of energy, this willingness to hope. She hardly dared trust it.

“The Sun Queen lives,” Navi answered quietly. “She is dear to me, a friend I love with my whole heart. And she needs my help. Had I an army, I would sail to Elysium and fight for her. I would show her she is not alone.”

“And would you die for this friend?”

“For her,” Navi said, “and for everyone.”

One of Ysabet’s soldiers reached down to help her up onto the pier. She waved him off, her gaze fixed on Navi.

“This ship, once she’s built,” she said, “will be able to make the ocean crossing in three weeks. She’s got guns, and she’s got weapons stores that would make an imperial general salivate.”