Pain shot into Jon’s leg as the ship crashed over a swell. éli’s sword had cut deep, and the sting lingered long after he’d sewn the opening back together. He considered heating his knife to burn the wound closed, but he welcomed the ache to distract him from thoughts of Jàden.

  Jon smoked the last of his cigarette and tossed it over the side as laughter erupted from the women near Theryn.

  He was in no mood for it, mostly because he so desperately wanted his wife tonight. To pull Jàden into his arms and smell the sweetness of her skin against his. He still hadn’t told her the truth about their bond, but she seemed persistent that their connection was only shared energy.

  Jon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He should be resting too, but Jàden’s steady breath on his skin about drove him mad. If he went below deck now, he may not be able to resist his desperate need to kiss her. Guardians be damned, he hadn’t had a woman affect him so much in years. Maybe ever.

  “You’re different.” Snow scattered across Malcolm’s beard as he lit up a pipe and leaned against the rail. Mist rose off the barren, watery landscape that stretched to darkness in every direction. “I thought it was the mountains at first, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “Nothing’s changed.” Jon breathed in the frigid sea air. It kept him sharp. Kept him from hastening below deck and doing something stupid. He popped the firemark out of the strange black weapon Jàden found, the seams of color going dark.

  Malcolm chewed on the stem of his pipe. “Known you far too many years, son. I daresay your mind is more occupied these days with that woman.”

  The wind blew flurries across each swelling wave. Jon scratched his chin, a rock in his chest hardening. As much as he wanted to deny it, Malcolm wasn’t wrong. “We need to find this Kale fellow quick. He and I have a few things to sort out.”

  A scream ripped across the night.

  Jon whipped around to Jàden shouting at the sky with a slim silver block in her hand. Whatever had triggered her this time ripped through their bond, a wave of rage speeding up the rhythm of his heart.

  “You fucking bastard, Frank!” She scrambled for the rail and chucked the silver item into the sea. Jàden climbed the wood planking as if she planned to jump over.

  Jon pocketed the items in his hand and raced across the deck. Fire surged in his veins, a sharp indicator that she was about to release her magic, as he grabbed her around the waist to pull her back. The last thing he needed was his men and horses dead at the bottom of the sea.

  “Leave me alone!” She twisted in his arms like a terrified child.

  “Relax,” Jon whispered in her ear.

  “I saw him.” She tried to squirm away. “Let me go.”

  “You’re safe, Jàden.” The smell of the sea clung to her hair, but beneath that lay a hint of fresh flowers after a fall rain, a scent Jon identified as solely hers. His chest tightened at the strong warmth in her frail body—he didn’t want to let her go.

  “I’ll never be safe.” Jàden screamed the words, but she had no fight left. She collapsed against his chest as sobs wracked her. “I saw them. They’re going to find us.”

  Jon held her tight against his chest. Only one thing made Jàden lose control of herself: the men who tortured her. Flashes of her screams from the glass sheets rippled through his thoughts. He was going to kill those men.

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  He leaned his cheek against her head. “Come with me.”

  Away from the eyes of Naréa and her crew. They’d already witnessed too much of Jàden’s eccentric behavior, and the whispers about it only increased with each passing day. Some of the women wanted to pitch Jàden overboard and let her drown—they didn’t like unpredictable passengers.

  Jon guided her down the stairs and back to her sleeping spot. As he passed Thomas, he gestured a few silent commands with his hand. Wake everyone. Be alert.

  Thomas nodded and quietly began waking the others.

  Each time Jàden went into a panic, something bad happened. Jon leaned against the wall and pulled her to his chest, gently soothing her hair away from her temple.

  “He knew,” she whispered. Jàden curled her arms over her head and sobbed against him. “Kale knew he was going to die.”

  Jon closed his eyes, the ache to protect her so strong he had an itch to draw his sword. Instead, he slid his hand into the hair curling her neck.

  Jàden was his, not Kale’s.

  With that thought, he embraced her tighter. He had to tell her the truth about their bond, that the day she tied her magic to him, she’d made him a husband. All his life he craved what his parents had, a strong connection with a lover. Jon craved intimate moments of peace, no matter how the world swirled its anger. He wanted a life away from the Tower, a family of his own, and yet people treated him the same—as if he were a terrifying predator.

  But Jàden wasn’t afraid of him.

  He spoke softly to her again, hoping to ease some of her pain. “We’ll be at the boundary soon.”

  “Kale said it wasn’t my fault, but it was. So many people died because of me—Kale, my grandparents, the other experiments. Some of them at least.”

  She had to stop beating herself up. Jon had seen her on the glass sheets, the torture and the cages. How she screamed and doubled over, unable to move, as if some invisible force held her pinned to the ground. A sea of white, just like she’d yelled about in the mountains.

  Yet as he tried to comfort her, he listened for any off sound—anything to alert him to danger.

  Andrew edged into sight and gestured silently: two below, others on deck.

  He nodded and ticked his head to tell Andrew to go. With his men awake and alert, he could relax a few more minutes.

  Jon slid his hand along her jaw and tilted her head toward him. “None of this is your fault. Put the past behind you and focus on what’s in your life right now.”

  It was the only way to live, in the present, especially with enemies tracking their every move. Guardians knew, Jon was calling the kettle black—he still couldn’t stop blaming himself for what happened to his family or for Mather’s death, but he couldn’t bear the sorrow etched in her dark eyes.

  “You’re not alone, Jàden.” Jon traced his thumb down to the corner of her mouth and leaned in, aching to show Jàden she had him, and not just as a protector.

  Tears flooded her eyes again as she tightened her grip on his shirt. “Always alone. Isn’t that what you said?”

  As her stinging words rolled over him, he froze barely a breath from her mouth. Jon sighed, the hurt in her voice touching the ache he carried with him through each day of his life: refusal.

  She was still in love with a dead man, and he would never be more than second best. He pulled back a fraction, his muscles taut to hide the pain. If only he could make her see how much she still clung to that dead lover of hers, a man who would never again exist the way he did in her head. Maybe she needed more time to grieve, or she might never let him go.

  But Jon wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

  Clenching his jaw to find the right words, a soft noise bumped the outer hull of the barge. He snapped to alertness, lifting his head away from Jàden and cocking it toward the outer wall. The merest hint of a voice caught his attention, and he reluctantly released her and put his ear to the wood.

  Another bump—this one louder. There should be nothing but sea to the horizon. He pulled Jàden toward the other end of the stall and peeked around the corner.

  “What’s happening?” she whispered, clinging tighter to him.

  The corridor beyond their sleeping space was too quiet, but the horses were alert, their ears forward.

  “Son of a…” Jon slipped the metal weapon from his waistband and pressed it into her hands. “Someone’s boarding us. Take this and stay near the horses. You’re the only one who knows how to use it anyway.”

  She reached into his pocket for the firemark, her fingers brushing his leg.

  Jon barely stifled a groan as he unsheathed his daggers. “Stay here. I’m going to pitch these assholes overboard.” He grabbed her chin. “No magic. Unless you have no other choice.”

  No way was he going to stop her from saving his men again, but this time Jon was determined to get rid of the problem himself.

  He leaned in close to her ear. “Always alone. I was talking about me.”