“I’ve never heard them wail like that before,” I say as they pass.

“I heard them several nights ago,” Magiano replies. “Raffaele told me he heard it, too, when he came on board our ship. It is the sound of a dying balira, poisoned by this water.”

His words tug at my heart. I look out the porthole again to catch a sight of the last ones swimming by, until nothing but triangles of ripples drift in their wake. Let them die, the whispers say. When it is all done, you can turn your back on them. On everyone. Escape with your powers. You can’t give them up.

Yes, I could do this. I’ll wait until we’ve reached the border of Amadera and Beldain, and begin the trek northward. Then Magiano and I can return to Kenettra. I shake my head, frowning, and sip more of the herbal drink. Would Violetta return with me? Could I leave without her? Will I abandon the others? I stay very still, focusing my thoughts on following through with this plan. I imagine sailing back to my country and returning to my throne. I force myself to be happy about it.

I picture Raffaele and Lucent, who saved my life, and then Teren, who has turned against every belief he holds in order to do what he thinks is right.

Magiano looks at me. His side is pressed against mine, his skin warm and full of life.

“I’m afraid,” I finally whisper to him. “Every day, I wake up wondering whether or not this will be the last day I get to live in reality.” I look at him. “Last night, my nightmare returned. It went on for longer than it ever has. Even now, when you were standing so close by, I could see the shadows in the corner reaching their claws toward me. Even at this very moment, my illusions are growing stronger, evolving completely out of my reach.” I pause as the whispers scold me for speaking against them.

This boy will betray you, just like all the others. He is here for the pouch of gold you give him. He’ll disappear the instant you reach land, gone to search for better companions.

“Good thing we’re going to find a way to fix this, then,” Magiano replies, his eyes turned down at me. His words sound like they should be teasing, but his voice is grave, his face serious. “It won’t be like this forever.”

No response comes to my lips. After a while, I rest my hand upon his. “You’re still in pain.”

“Just my old wound acting up again, ” he replies quickly. “But I’m declining slower than you are, my love. I can endure this.”

“Let me see,” I murmur gently. “Maybe you need to wrap it.”

Magiano pulls away at first, but when I give him a pointed look, he sighs and relents. He shifts a little so that his back is turned to me, and then he reaches up and pulls his shirt over his head, exposing his torso. My gaze goes straight to the massive mark on his side. It stretches from the small of his back to the side of his upper chest. I bite my lip. Tonight, it looks swollen, red and angry from the mast’s strike.

“Perhaps Raffaele can have a look at it tomorrow,” I say, frowning at the sight. My thoughts turn to the priests from Magiano’s childhood, the ones who made this wound by trying to cut off the marking on his skin. The image makes my temper boil.

“I’m all right. Don’t worry.”

I meet his gaze. He looks vulnerable and gentle, his pupils round and dark. “Magiano, I . . . ,” I start to say, then pause, unsure. Even after our moments of shared kisses, our encounter in the bathhouse, I’ve never confessed my feelings to him. Don’t, foolish girl. He’ll only use it against you. But I decide to push on. “We might not return from this voyage. None of us. We might all lay down our lives when we reach the end, and not ever know whether our sacrifice changed anything for the better.”

“It will be for the better,” Magiano replies. “We cannot just die, not without trying. Not without fighting.”

“Do you really believe that?” I ask. “Why are we doing this, anyway? To preserve my own life, and yours—but what has the world ever done for us in order to deserve our sacrifice?”

Magiano’s brows furrow for a moment, then he leans in closer. “We exist because this world exists. It’s a responsibility of ours, whether or not anyone will remember it.” He nods at me. “And they will. Because we will return and make sure of it.”

He is close enough now that I can feel his breath against my lips. “You are so full of light,” I say after a moment. “You align with joy, and I with fear and fury. If you could see into my thoughts, you would surely turn away. So why would you stay with me, even if we return to Kenettra and resume our lives?”

“You paint me as a saint,” he murmurs. “But I aligned with greed solely to prevent that.”

Even now, he can make my lips twitch with a smile. “I’m serious, Magiano.”

“As am I. None of us are saints. I have seen your darkness, yes, and know your struggle. I won’t deny it.” He touches my chin with one hand. At this gesture, the whispers seem to settle, pushed away where I can’t hear them. “But you are also passionate and ambitious and loyal. You are a thousand things, mi Adelinetta, not just one. Do not reduce yourself to that.”

I look down, unsure how to feel.

“None of us are saints,” Magiano repeats. “We can all do better.”

We can all do better. I lean toward him. Every bone in my body yearns to keep this boy safe, always. “Magiano . . . ,” I start to say. “I don’t want to leave this world having never been with you.”

Magiano blinks once. He searches my face, as if trying to understand the true meaning of my words. “I’m with you right now,” he whispers.