A muscle jumps in his jaw. "A couple of my men came aboard to escort us to the next port."
"What's wrong with this port?"
"Nothing." But the way he passes his hand over his nape is the equivalent of him screaming like Chicken Little. "It's just time for a change in scenery."
I have no right to be disappointed. Samuil told me this was someone else's yacht. I knew it was temporary. But watching him dismiss me---treat me like some docile pet to be moved at his convenience, the way he used to treat me, the way we agreed he never would again... It ignites something primal in my chest.
"Where are we going?" I stand, refusing to let him tower over me.
"You'll find out when we get there." He turns to leave like that's the end of it.
I scramble after him, pregnancy-clumsy but determined. "Are
