Finally. My mind closes solidly around it. I whip a blanket of invisibility over us, covering us with the brick and marble of the walls, the cobblestone and dirt of the streets, the crowds of people. It’s an imperfect shield, in my tired state and with so many moving people around, but it’s enough to throw off our pursuers. Another arrow comes from overhead, but this time it misses our moving ripple by a wide shot. I grit my teeth and keep the illusion moving as fast as I can. Another arrow lands somewhere behind us.

We reach the docks. Here, the commotion changes to the work of readying crowded ships, and we manage to find a place to huddle behind a cluster of barrels. Our invisibility solidifies, now that we’re still, and we vanish entirely from sight. My breaths come raggedly, and my hands are shaking violently. Sweat beads on Violetta’s forehead. She looks unnaturally pale, and her eyes dart nervously along the street.

“How is Magiano going to find us?” she asks.

I glance at the ships lined up along the pier, looking for one with a hull that resembles a double-edged sword. The water along the pier churns, frothed up by restless baliras that are still hooked to their ships, waiting as their sailors argue with soldiers who refuse to let them dock. A long rope as thick as I am tall now dangles low across the water behind the docked ships, preventing anyone from entering or leaving. My attention returns to the ships. Minutes drag on. Again, I find myself wishing the Windwalker was with us, knowing how easy it would be to get on board a ship with her help.

How are we going to find Magiano in all this chaos? What if there is no ship waiting for us?

Then a shadow falls over us. We look up into the faces of two soldiers.

Their hands close around my arms. They seize us before we can even utter a protest. The Night King’s emblems sit prominently on their sleeves, and their faces are partially covered by veils. Violetta shoots me a terrified look. Do something. I reach again for my energy, trying desperately to grab it.

The soldier shoves me roughly before bringing his face closer. “Don’t,” he says quietly.

I suddenly still. Something in his voice stops me—a warning, a signal that they are not arresting us in the way we think. I glance back at Violetta, who stares in silence.

Two other soldiers approach us. One of them draws his sword and nods at the soldier holding me. “Is that them?” he asks.

“Could be,” my captor says. “Go alert the captain. Now.” He says it with such force that the other two soldiers turn immediately and start running to send up the alert. Our two soldiers quicken their pace. “Move,” the one holding me snaps from underneath his veil. And before us, I see what I’ve been looking for—a gangplank leading up to a ship that looks like a sword.

Together, we make our way toward the gangplank, carefully bypassing others as they hurry back and forth. One foot after the other. The gangplank creaks under our weight. We make it onto the deck of the ship right as another cluster of soldiers hurries by. They pause on the shore. I hold my breath, my hand wrapped so tightly around Violetta’s that my knuckles have turned white. My sister winces. The sails overhead are unfurling, and two crew members are unknotting thick lengths of rope on the railing.

Finally, soldiers on the pier notice us. “Hey!” one of them shouts at the nearest crewmember on our ship. “You were supposed to be tying her in. Lower your mast, port’s still closed!”

No one on board listens to him.

“I said, port’s closed!” the soldier hollers again, and this time the other soldiers shift in our direction. “Lower your mast!”

Someone in the crew hollers, and the rest of them holler back. Violetta and I stumble a little as the ship pulls free of the docks, then slowly turns its bow to face the opening of the bay. The soldiers on the pier halt, while their leader signals frantically toward others to raise the alarm. Another points a crossbow in our ship’s direction. Those closest to the railing fall into a crouch.

Our soldiers shove us. “Get down,” one of them barks. We do, right as the ship gives a lurch that makes us all sway. From the ocean below come the haunting cries of baliras. I clench my teeth. Even if these men are all here to help us, how will they get us out of port with the soldiers onshore alerted? We’ll have to get past the roped barrier, and even if we do, there will be ships sent after us—

“Adelina,” a voice behind us says. I whirl around to see a young man crouched near us. Our two soldiers give him a respectful nod, and he nods back. His eyes turn to me. I stiffen.

He sees my expression and holds up his hands. “Easy,” he says. “We didn’t go through all this trouble just to hurt you.” He glances at Violetta. “And your sister?” he adds.

“Yes,” Violetta replies, right as the ship shudders again. We fall to one side, but the mercenary talking to us hops to his feet with little effort and rushes back to the stern. From where we are, I can see glimpses of the water—and that the rope suspended over it is now cut and floating uselessly. Shouts come from the pier as we pull farther away.

Magiano hops over the bow of the ship. He’s almost completely soaked, and as the young mercenary approaches him, he shakes water out of his hair like a dog. The two exchange some words. I watch them carefully, my hand still clenched around Violetta’s.

Seconds later, Magiano and the mercenary hurry back to us. Magiano bends down, helps us to our feet, and then stands with his arms crossed. He doesn’t look concerned at all. At my suspicious expression, he just shrugs. “Relax, my love,” he says. “If I wanted to make a quick coin by selling you to someone, I wouldn’t have surrounded myself with people who don’t stand a chance against you.” The mercenary shoots him an irritated look, and Magiano holds up both hands. “I meant, you are all fantastic mercenaries. You just aren’t—well, these are the two that I told you about. Trust me, you’re interested in them because of how dangerous they are.”