“Etta, I spoke to Kennit. I asked him not to send you away.”

She seemed to vanish in stillness. Her voice came from far away. “I suppose you meant well by that.”

“Etta, you should tell him you’re with child. It might change everything.”

“Change everything?” Her smile was brittle. “Oh, Kennit has already changed everything, Wintrow. There is no need for me to add to it.”

She started to walk away. He dared to reach out and take her arm to restrain her. “Etta, please. Tell him.” He clenched his jaws to keep from saying more. Perhaps if Kennit knew that she was pregnant, he would not set her aside to claim Althea. Surely, it would change his heart. What man could remain unmoved by such news?

Etta shook her head slowly, almost as if she could hear his thoughts. “Wintrow, Wintrow. You still don’t understand, do you? Why do you think I was so shaken? Because I’m pregnant? Because she struck Kennit and made him bleed?”

Wintrow shrugged in helpless silence. Etta leaned her head closer to his. “I wanted to kill her. I wanted to do whatever I had to do to her to make her be silent. Because she was speaking the truth, and I couldn’t stand to hear it. Your aunt is not mad, Wintrow. At least, no more mad than any woman becomes after rape. She spoke the truth.”

“You can’t know that.” His mouth was so dry he could scarcely form the words.

Etta closed her eyes for an instant. “For women, there is an outrage that cannot be provoked in any other way. I looked at Althea Vestrit, and I recognized it. I have seen it too often. I have felt it myself.”

Wintrow glanced at the locked door. The betrayal numbed him. Believing her hurt too much. He clung to doubt. “But why didn’t you confront him?”

She looked deeply into his eyes, turning her head as if she were trying to see how he could be so foolish. “Wintrow. I have told you. Hearing the truth was bad enough. I don’t want to live it. Kennit is right. It is best that I stay on the Marietta for a time.”

“Until what?” Wintrow demanded.

She shrugged one shoulder stiffly. The gleam of tears sprang into her eyes again. Her voice was tight as she said very quietly, “He may weary of her. He may want me back.” She turned away. “I have to gather my things,” she whispered hoarsely.

This time, when she stepped away from him, he let her go.

THEY WERE ALL LOOKING AT HIM. KENNIT COULD FEEL THE EYES OF EVERY crewman tracking his progress as he made his way forward. He dared not hurry. The spat between the two women had been bad enough. They would not witness him racing to the ship’s summons, no matter how urgent.

“Kennit!” The figurehead threw back her head and bellowed the word. In the twilit waters beside the ship, the serpents arched into sight and dove again with lashing tails. The sea around the ship seethed with the ship’s agitation. He gritted his teeth to keep his expression bland and limped on. Althea had left several bruises that were starting to ache. The ladder to the foredeck was annoying, as always, and all the while he struggled, the ship shouted his name. By the time he reached her, sweat coated him.

He took a breath to steady his voice. “Ship. I’m here. What do you want?”

The figurehead swiveled to look at him and he gasped. Her eyes had gone green, not a serpent green, but a human green, and her features had lost the reptilian cast they had assumed of late. She did not entirely look as Vivacia had, but this was definitely not Bolt. He almost stepped back from her.

“I’m here, too. What do I want? I want Althea Vestrit out here on the foredeck. I want her companion, Jek, as well. And I want them here now.”

His mind raced. “I’m afraid that isn’t feasible, Bolt,” he ventured. He used the name deliberately, and waited for her response.

The ship gave him the most disdainful look he had ever endured from a feminine face. “You know I am not Bolt,” she replied.

“Are you Vivacia, then?” he asked soberly.

“I am myself, in my entirety,” she replied. “If you must name me by a name, then address me as Vivacia, for that part of me is as integral as the plank I was built from. But I did not call you to discuss my name or identity. I want Althea and Jek brought here. Now.”

“Why?” he countered, his voice as controlled as hers.

“To see them for myself. To know that they are not being ill-treated.”

“Neither of them have been ill-treated!” he declared indignantly.

The lines of the ship’s mouth went flat. “I know what you did,” she said bluntly.