"Let me go," Althea told her plainly. "I want to go alone."

"You're not well," Kennit said sympathetically. "I hold none of this against you."

"Bastard," she spat at him, and she thought he had moved closer. She swung at him, and then suddenly he was where he had been standing all along, the coward. "I'm still going to kill you," she promised him, "but not where you'll bleed on my deck."

"Althea!"

The beloved voice was shocked with worry for her, but there was something else there too, something she couldn't name. She turned and after a blurry moment found Vivacia looking back at her. She should have looked joyful, not anxious. "It will be all right," she assured her. "I'm here now." She tried to run to her, but it became a stagger. Jek was suddenly at her side again, helping her to the railing. "I'm here now, ship," she told her, finally, after all the months. Then, "What has he done to you? What has he done to you?"

It was Vivacia and it was not. All her features had subtly changed. Her eyes were too green, and the arch of her brows too pronounced. Her hair was like a mane, wild around her face. Yet for all that, the difference was what she felt as she clutched the railing. Once they had fit together like complementary parts of a puzzle box and completed one another. Now it was as if she gripped Jek's hands, or Paragon's railing. It was Vivacia, but she was complete without Althea.

Yet Althea was not complete without her. The places she had expected the ship to fill were still empty and ached more horribly than ever.

"I am one now," the ship confirmed softly to her. "The memories of your family have merged with the dragon. It had to be, Althea. There was no going back to denying her, any more than she could truly go on without me. You don't begrudge me that, do you? That I am whole now?"

"But I need you!" The words broke from her before she could consider what they meant. Terrible to blurt out to all a truth you had never recognized yourself. "How can I be myself without you?"

"Just as you have been," the ship replied, and she heard her father's wisdom in the words, and an elder sapience as well.

"But I'm hurt," she heard herself say. Words were welling from her like blood from a wound.

"You will heal," Vivacia assured her.

"You don't need me…" The knowledge of that sent her reeling. To have come all this way, striven so hard and lost so much, only to discover this.

"Love can exist without need," Vivacia pointed out gently. In the seas beyond the bow, several serpents had risen to regard them gravely. Either her eyes were still tricking her, or the yellow-green one was deformed.

From somewhere, Wintrow had come to grip the railing beside her. "Oh, ship, you feel beautiful," he exclaimed. Althea felt an odd tension run out of him. "You… you make sense now. You are complete."

"Go away," Althea told him distinctly.

"You need to rest," he told her gently. Mealy-mouthed, empty courtesy, just like Kennit's.

She swung at him, but he jerked his head back. "Go away!" she shouted at him. Tears, useless tears, started down her face. Where had her strength gone? She lurched with the realization that the ship did not reach out to her and supplement her in her need.

Vivacia spoke quietly. "You must do that for yourself now, Althea. Each of us must."

It was as if her own mother had pushed her aside. "But you were with me. You know what he did to me, how he hurt me…"

"Not exactly," the ship replied gently, and in those words, the separation was complete. The ship was a separate creature from her now, and just as capable of misunderstanding her as any human. Just as capable of disbelieving her.

"I know how real your pain is, and was," Vivacia offered her. "It is just that… perhaps I know you too well, Althea. All the years you lived aboard me, all the dreams you dreamed with me before I awoke. I shared them, you know. And this is not the first time such a nightmare has plagued you." There was an awkward silence, then she added, "Devon did you great wrong, Althea. And it was not your fault. It was never your fault. And neither was Brashen's death." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "You don't deserve to be punished."

Vivacia had gotten too close to a truth Althea didn't want to hear. It was a truth she could not bear just now. All the connections between pain and fault, between Althea's wicked willfulness and the deaths of those she loved and the bad things that happened to her because she deserved bad things— cause and effect suddenly spun dizzyingly around her. If she hadn't defied her mother to go on the ship with her father, her mother would have loved her more and not given the ship to Keffria, and if Devon hadn't taken her maidenhead, she wouldn't have told Keffria, and Keffria wouldn't have despised her all these years, and none of it would even have begun, and Paragon wouldn't be sunk and Brashen dead, and Amber, and young Clef, how could she even think of him-

"I need to go back to my room," she begged huskily.

"I'll take you, "Jek said.

WINTROW TAPPED AT THE DOOR OF HIS ROOM CAUTIOUSLY, THEN JUMPED WHEN Jek jerked it open. For an instant, he stood mutely looking up at the northern woman. Then he found his tongue. "Kennit thought you might want some women's clothing."

She scowled as if he had already offended her, but stepped back and waved him in. Althea sat on the bunk, her knees drawn up to her chest. A pallet had been made up on the floor for Jek. She looked better, in a haggard but alert way. The tension in the room suggested he had walked in on an argument. His aunt glanced disdainfully at his burden of slithering fabric. "Take them away. I accept nothing from him."

"Wait," Jek intervened. She gave Althea an apologetic look. "I've been in these clothes since we went overboard. I'm tired of smelling myself." She winced, then added reluctantly, "And you. Those clothes you're in smell like vomit."

"Don't you see what those dresses are?" Althea flared. "They're a bribe. And if I wear one of them, I'd be seen as a whore, bought with clothes. No one would ever believe what he did to me."

"I don't think he intends it that way," Wintrow said quietly. He suspected the gift was more to gain the ship's approval than Althea's, but the look she shot him silenced him. He did not know how to begin to talk to her. Give her time, he told himself. Let her be the one to begin talking. He shut the door behind him before placing the armload of clothing on the foot of the bunk. He also unburdened himself of a chest of jewelry and several bottles of scent.

Jek raised an eyebrow at the trove, then glanced back at Althea. "Would you mind if I looked through it?"

"I don't care," Althea lied. "You've already made it obvious you doubt my story."

Jek flipped open the lid of the jewelry chest. She spoke as she considered the glittering contents. "You don't lie, Althea." She took a deep breath and added reluctantly, "It's the circumstances that make me… have doubts. The whole thing just doesn't make sense. Why would he rape you? He has a woman of his own, he's forbidden rape on this ship, and his reputation is that of a gentleman. Back in Divvytown, no one spoke ill of him. He saw me twice every day, and treated me with courtesy, despite the chains. Even the ship herself is shocked at the idea that he might do such a thing." She rummaged through the garments, and held a soft blue skirt up against herself. "I won't be running the rigging in this," she observed in an aside. Althea wasn't distracted by her humor.

"So you believe the whole thing was a poppy dream?" Althea demanded fiercely.

Jek shrugged. "He gave me poppy syrup in brandy for my burns. It helped. But it did give me vivid dreams." She knit her brow. "I hate the man, Althea. But for him, my friends would be alive still. Despite that, he displays a sense of honor that-"