Chapter Ten
Winter opened his eyes. It was deep night, the cabin dark except the moonlight coming through the porthole.
They had left Minsk, glad to be back at sea with Soule, keeping a wary eye out for The Mockery, sailing north up the trade route. They would meet Lowen in Caska, the older Siblin still dropping off his cargo.
Winter glanced at Soule’s face, only seeing it partly, a soft rounded cheek, her lips parted, breathing. He glanced out of the porthole, wondering what had woken him.
His back was suddenly prickling, a wave of awareness going through him. He and Isidor had spent all their lives on board a ship, walking a deck as soon as they could walk, and most of their adult lives on this one. They knew The Singsong’s motions, knew how she moved in the water. He didn’t hear any
