Oblaine laughed. “The sea goddess favors no one but herself, if the stories are to be believed.”
“They’re just stories,” Talia snapped.
“Right you are.” He took another drink. “Seafaring men tend more toward religion than most,but I only care about a safe journey and a ship in one piece at the end of it. My men can sort out which of the gods to thank. Ryn, nowthere’sa place filled with superstitious people. They’re always going on about the Tree—supposedly that’s where it fell, when the gods tore it out of the ground.”
Her mother was eating at a much slower pace, trembling as she lifted her fork. “All stories haveat least a grain of truth in them. One ought to think carefully before dismissing them out of hand.”
Talia frowned. Her mother hadn’t gone on about the old myths in years—what was wrong with her? “Do you know where Eda’s sending us once we get to Ryn?” she asked the Captain.
“You’re to be wards of Baron Graimed Dacien-Tuer, the Governor. Used to be a prince before Ryn became part of the Empire.”
So Eda was shutting them away with other forgotten royalty. Talia would have no life to speak of, no future. She stared at her plate, her appetite gone.
“I’ll endeavor to make your journey as comfortable as possible. You’ll have to stay belowdecks during storms and keep out of my men’s way, but other than that you’re free to go where you please.”
Her mother drooped in her chair, and Talia laida hand on her arm.
“We need to rest now,” she said to the Captain.
Oblaine nodded. “I’ll have one of my men show you to your quarters at once.” He scraped back his chair and stood, eyeing them with a distant sort of pity as he left the cabin.
Her mother’s shoulders shook and tears leaked from her eyes. She seemed like a wholly different person from the impenetrable woman Talia had known allher life, and it scared her. “What’s wrong, Mama? We’re together now. Everything is going to be all right.”
“Can’t you hear it?” her mother whispered.
The only sound was the water, slapping the sides of the ship. “Hear what?”
“The waves. They’re singing.”
Chapter Five
TALIA WOKE IN A CRAMPED BUNK TOthe motion of the ship beneath her, sunlight slanting in through the porthole. The quarters she shared with her mother were hardly bigger than the prison cell back in Eddenahr—nothing but two narrow bunks opposite each other, with a scant bit of floor between, and a chipped porcelain chamber pot shoved up against the wall. There wasn’t room for luggage,even if they’d had any.
She lay quiet for a few minutes, listening to the creak of wood and the grasping waves, hoping her mother would be back to her normal self after a good night’s sleep. She glimpsed sky and sea through the porthole, merging on the horizon into an endless stretch of gray.
There was a knock at the door and she slipped from her bunk to answer it. An older Enduenan sailor withsilvering hair smiled at her over the bucket of water and slab of soap he was carrying.
“Captain thought you and your mother would like a wash, and something clean to change into. This was all we could scrounge up, I fear.” He nodded at the assortment of clothes draped over one arm. “I’m Hanid, first mate.”
His friendliness cheered her. “Thank you, Hanid.”
“Sure thing, Miss.” He set the bucketon the floor before handing her the soap and the bundle of clothes. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
And then he ducked back out of the cabin.
Her mother stirred and climbed out of her bunk, looking bewildered. “Where are we?” Her voice was rough with sleep.
“On a ship, headed to Ryn, Mama. Don’t you remember?”
Her mother gave her a vacant smile. “Of course I remember.”
They washed awkwardly in the tiny space between the bunks, scrubbing away as much dirt as possible and drying off with empty flour sacks. It was a far cry from Talia’s private marble bath back in Eddenahr, with its perfumed hair oils and stone-warmed towels, but it was definitely better than nothing.
When she was finished, Talia cinched a sash around a pair of too-big trousers and slipped intoa shapeless blue shirt that had clearly seen better days—though at least it was clean. She thought about her wardrobe in the palace, filled to the brim with gowns and sashes and elegant shoes. Already, it seemed so far away it might as well have been a dream.
Talia helped her mother button up the back of a garish purple dress that must have come from Ryn, or perhaps Od, with its dropped waistand full, burdensome skirt. No Enduenan courtier would have been caught dead in it, but somehow it seemed to suit her. No matter where she was or what she wore, her mother would always look like a queen.
Hanid had thoughtfully tucked a few combs into the pile of clothes, and the two of them worked the knots from their hair when they’d dressed. Talia braided her hair into a single plait down herback, while her mother wound hers into a shiny black coronet on the top of her head, fastening it with pins that had miraculously made the journey from Eddenahr.
