Tanden felt a hand on his cheek. Groaning, he pushed himself up and opened his eyes, expecting to see Jale in front of him.

But it wasn't Jale who was looking at him, head tilted to the side ponderously. The woman had long, reddish brown hair, tousled by the wind, and dark brown eyes. She sat on the sand elegantly, with her legs tucked together beside her, and propping herself up with one hand, which was clutching a scroll. At first glance her dress seemed pale blue, light and fluttery. But as Tanden looked at her, it seemed to shift colours, various shades of blue and white, flowing over her like waves. He couldn't make sense of it.

He felt like he had during his dream—if it had even been a dream—of the goddesses and gods at dinner. But this woman didn't look like any goddess he had ever learned about.

At least if this was a dream, it was impossible to insult her by asking. "Who are you?"

She smiled at him. "Who are you, Captain Tanden?" Her voice almost seemed familiar. "Everyone arguing about who you belong to, who you are, and only I seem to know the truth."

Tanden blinked. "What?"

"You belong to me," she said.

Tanden rubbed his face. "I can't think about that again. I don't even know who you are."

"Yes, you do," she said. "Look at me."

He looked up and gave a start. She was changing. Her pale skin was darkening. Fine lines appeared on her hands and spread over her body. Her dress and hair stiffened. For a heartbeat or two, she was still, then she changed back. The lines, which Tanden suddenly recognized as wood grain, disappeared. The ocean breeze tugged at her hair and dress. She looked real again. Soft and warm.

The only goddess Tanden could think of who was associated with wood was Zianesa, but why would she claim him so assuredly? Besides, he had seen her at the dinner party, and she had looked nothing like the woman in front of him.

"I still don't—" Then he noticed the necklace she was wearing. Two pendants, one with the fish design that represented the Zian ocean god Roe, and one with the wave symbol of Roe's wife, Tolle. The wind tugged at the corner of her scroll, giving Tanden glimpses of a compass rose. She was holding a map. Suddenly he understood. "You're the Ocean Queen."

She laughed. The sound of it reminded Tanden of waves crashing against a ship's hull. "Not quite."

"You're... you're my figurehead," Tanden said. It had to be a dream. "You're the Wanderlust."

"Yes," she said with a radiant smile. "And you belong to me, out there." She waved towards the water. "Not stuck on an island."

Tanden looked out at the dark water. "Why does everybody want to tell me where and who I belong to?"

She touched his hand. "Because that's the question you keep asking. But you know the answer." Her finger rubbed the ring on his index finger. His Tandran crest ring. "You know exactly who you are. You're just a little lost."

Her hand felt so real. Tanden gave her fingers a squeeze. "You're not real. I drew a picture and paid someone to carve you out of the most expensive wood they had. I don't even remember what kind of wood."

"Why does that make me any less real than the goddesses and gods you talk to?" she asked softly. "You've always been so willing to believe. Was it because I wasn't invited to the dinner party?"

Tanden winced and almost pulled away, but he enjoyed the feel of her hand. "I... I don't know what to think. You're gone. And..." He could have sworn his heart stopped beating for a moment. "And Soren... I can't do anything without..."

"Shh." She pulled her hand from his to gently stroke his cheek. "You're not helpless without me. You're Captain Tanden."

Tanden tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. "A captain without a ship is helpless."

"I can be rebuilt. Recarved."

At that he did lean away from her. "You, maybe. Soren... I can't..." He trailed off. Thinking about Soren was too painful. Even in a dream.

She looked at him steadily, head tilted slightly to the side. Her hand dropped to rest gently on Tanden's forearm. "You feel lost. What are you going to do about it? Captain Tanden—my captain—isn't going to lie down and die on an island."

"What am I going to do about it?" Tanden repeated. Part of him knew he was arguing with himself. Probably. "There's nothing to do."

"You're not usually so easily stopped."

"Nothing about this is easy!" Tanden pushed away her hand. "You're not real."

"Does that matter?" she asked. "Captain Tanden. Brilliant, boundless, brave—you never do what people expect. Toliver and Rico expect you to give up and starve on an island. It would be such a shame to pick this moment to do what's expected of you."

Tanden scoffed. "I'm not nearly as unpredictable as people seem to think. I just... keep moving forward. Predictably."

She nodded slowly. "Constantly moving forward. To the next kingdom, the next city, the next language."

He recognized those words. Years ago, he had said them to Soren. But that had been before he'd run out of new countries to visit. That was before Soren had been...

Tanden forced the thought away. He still wasn't ready for it. "You're not real."

"Maybe not," she said. "But you need to start moving. That's when you're at your best. And when you face Toliver, you need to be at your best."

"Revenge." Tanden actually laughed this time, bitterly. "Revenge against Toliver didn't fix anything last time. It just—" He cut himself off abruptly.

She was on fire. It was unsettling. She looked so alive, and yet she sat calmly as she burned. As her peeling skin revealed burned charcoal. She blinked her dark eyes. "That was before he ruined me."

Tanden stared at her, eyes wide and horrified. He felt frozen on the spot as she reached out. Her charred fingers brushed against his cheek.

"Wake up, Captain Tanden."

***

Tanden sat up with a start, gasping. Movement at his side caught him off guard and he flinched away, scrabbling against the sand.

"It's just me!" Jale said.

He went still. Jale was on one knee beside him, one hand stretched out as if she had just touched him. She drew back and rested her hand on her knee.

She looked nothing like the woman. Her clothes were damp in some places, stiffly dried with salt in others. Her hair was short and choppy, her eyes had the Tallenese slant. Tanden doubted he had even been so relieved to see her. She was real. He could talk to her and know he wasn't losing his mind.

Then the events of the day before caught up with him. Before he could think to stop himself, his gaze raked across the horizon and caught sight of a thin column of smoke, proof that in the distance, the Wanderlust was still burning.

"You were talking in your sleep," Jale said, gently, like she was worried about upsetting him.

Tanden tried to focus on her words. "I'm not... particularly fond of that development."

A fleeting smile crossed Jale's face. "That sounds like you."

He closed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"Long words." Jale shifted to sit with her legs crossed. The old shipwreck loomed over her. Tanden wondered what had happened to the crew. It was easier than thinking about what had happened to his crew.

After a moment of silence, Jale spoke up again. "Tanden, are you going to be—"

"All right?" He looked at her. "Were you really going to ask me that?"

She held his gaze firmly, but when she spoke, Tanden could hear the tremor in her voice. "Neither of us is going to be all right. But are you going to be able to function? Because we can't die on this beach."

"Why not?" Tanden asked. It seemed like a good plan. Easy.

"Because your crew is out there." Jale pointed at the ocean.

"Soren isn't." Tanden forced the words out. Saying it felt like acknowledging it in a way crying hadn't.

"If he was, he would try to help them. When that cave collapsed on you, he was frantic. Unstoppable. He hurt himself and risked his life on the slim chance that you were alive in there. So I know that if Soren was stuck on a beach, he would try to save the men. And what about Ara? He's trapped over there, all alone. Do you think Soren—"

"Soren is a better person than I am." Tanden pushed himself to his feet and took a few steps away from Jale. He let the waves lap at his toes. "Soren rescued me in that cave. Do you know what I did when Soren was hurt, in West Draulin?" He didn't turn back to her, just crossed his arms and stared out at the water. Towards the thin wisp of smoke far across the bay. "I took a sword, I killed one of the men who had hurt him, and I burned West Draulin's port. I've been struggling with that for two years, and it finally caught up with me. I chose revenge, and it didn't work."

"That was before you lost everything," Jale said.

Tanden turned, half-expecting to see the Wanderlust's figurehead again. He could almost imagine her there, kneeling on the sand next to Jale. The rusty sword Jale had tried to hand him the evening before was stuck upright in the sand.

Tanden gaze caught on the sword. "Revenge didn't work."

"Rescuing your crew isn't revenge."

"Killing Toliver would be." Imagining it gave him a jolt of dark joy. Slipping the rusty sword through Toliver's chest. Watching him bleed out slowly, painfully. Rico next, in front of his pirates, so they would properly appreciate the danger of crossing Captain Lord Tanden of West Draulin.

"What would Sor—"

"Soren is..." Tanden took a step forward, then faltered. "Soren was a better person than I am."

"You're a good person, Tanden."

He had been, maybe. But he was reckless and erratic, roguish and impulsive, and without Soren there to temper those behaviours, why not let them free?

I will give you everything you need, Soren had said. Whenever you need it.

But he couldn't. He would never be able to keep that promise. And what Tanden needed most was Soren at his side.

If he couldn't have that, Toliver bleeding out at his feet would have to do.

Tanden took another step forward, and his right hand reached for the rusty sword. His fingers gripped the hilt, tugging it from the sand.

Jale might try to temper him, but she wasn't Soren. Nothing would stop Tanden from driving that sword into Toliver's chest. But first—

Tanden's fingers tightened around the sword's hilt, and he looked down at Jale. "We're not going to die on this fucking beach." He held out his left hand, and when she took it, he hoisted her to her feet. "Let's go."