“I know how real your pain is, and was,” Vivacia offered her. “It is just that… perhaps I know you too well, Althea. All the years you lived aboard me, all the dreams you dreamed with me before I awoke. I shared them, you know. And this is not the first time such a nightmare has plagued you.” There was an awkward silence, then she added, “Devon did you great wrong, Althea. And it was not your fault. It was never your fault. And neither was Brashen’s death.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You don’t deserve to be punished.”

Vivacia had gotten too close to a truth Althea didn’t want to hear. It was a truth she could not bear just now. All the connections between pain and fault, between Althea’s wicked willfulness and the deaths of those she loved and the bad things that happened to her because she deserved bad things- cause and effect suddenly spun dizzyingly around her. If she hadn’t defied her mother to go on the ship with her father, her mother would have loved her more and not given the ship to Keffria, and if Devon hadn’t taken her maidenhead, she wouldn’t have told Keffria, and Keffria wouldn’t have despised her all these years, and none of it would even have begun, and Paragon wouldn’t be sunk and Brashen dead, and Amber, and young Clef, how could she even think of him-

“I need to go back to my room,” she begged huskily.

“I’ll take you, “Jek said.

WINTROW TAPPED AT THE DOOR OF HIS ROOM CAUTIOUSLY, THEN JUMPED WHEN Jek jerked it open. For an instant, he stood mutely looking up at the northern woman. Then he found his tongue. “Kennit thought you might want some women’s clothing.”

She scowled as if he had already offended her, but stepped back and waved him in. Althea sat on the bunk, her knees drawn up to her chest. A pallet had been made up on the floor for Jek. She looked better, in a haggard but alert way. The tension in the room suggested he had walked in on an argument. His aunt glanced disdainfully at his burden of slithering fabric. “Take them away. I accept nothing from him.”

“Wait,” Jek intervened. She gave Althea an apologetic look. “I’ve been in these clothes since we went overboard. I’m tired of smelling myself.” She winced, then added reluctantly, “And you. Those clothes you’re in smell like vomit.”

“Don’t you see what those dresses are?” Althea flared. “They’re a bribe. And if I wear one of them, I’d be seen as a whore, bought with clothes. No one would ever believe what he did to me.”

“I don’t think he intends it that way,” Wintrow said quietly. He suspected the gift was more to gain the ship’s approval than Althea’s, but the look she shot him silenced him. He did not know how to begin to talk to her. Give her time, he told himself. Let her be the one to begin talking. He shut the door behind him before placing the armload of clothing on the foot of the bunk. He also unburdened himself of a chest of jewelry and several bottles of scent.

Jek raised an eyebrow at the trove, then glanced back at Althea. “Would you mind if I looked through it?”

“I don’t care,” Althea lied. “You’ve already made it obvious you doubt my story.”

Jek flipped open the lid of the jewelry chest. She spoke as she considered the glittering contents. “You don’t lie, Althea.” She took a deep breath and added reluctantly, “It’s the circumstances that make me… have doubts. The whole thing just doesn’t make sense. Why would he rape you? He has a woman of his own, he’s forbidden rape on this ship, and his reputation is that of a gentleman. Back in Divvytown, no one spoke ill of him. He saw me twice every day, and treated me with courtesy, despite the chains. Even the ship herself is shocked at the idea that he might do such a thing.” She rummaged through the garments, and held a soft blue skirt up against herself. “I won’t be running the rigging in this,” she observed in an aside. Althea wasn’t distracted by her humor.

“So you believe the whole thing was a poppy dream?” Althea demanded fiercely.

Jek shrugged. “He gave me poppy syrup in brandy for my burns. It helped. But it did give me vivid dreams.” She knit her brow. “I hate the man, Althea. But for him, my friends would be alive still. Despite that, he displays a sense of honor that-“

“It wasn’t a dream.” Althea turned her accusing gaze on Wintrow. “You don’t believe me, do you? You’ve become his meek little follower, haven’t you? You gave our family ship over to him without a fight.”

Before Wintrow could defend himself, Jek spoke. “Put yourself in my place, Althea. What if I’d told you that Brashen had attacked me? Think how difficult that would be for you to accept. Althea. You’ve been through a horrible experience. Near drowned, and recovered only to find your ship and all hands and Brashen drowned. You’re grieving. It is natural for you to hate Kennit and believe him capable of any evil. It could turn anyone’s mind.”