Meanings danced all around him, like the spattering rain that began to fall. Small hail was mixed with it, bouncing off the deck and Wintrow's shoulders. "You speak of Etta's child, don't you?"

"Do I?" She cocked her head. "You would know better than I. The words come to me, but the sense of them belongs to another. But mark how you call him. Etta's child, when all others speak of him as Kennit's."

Her words nettled him. "Why should I not name him hers? It takes two to make a child. His value is not solely in that Kennit fathered him. When they name him so, they discount Etta. I tell you this, stranger. In many ways, she is more fit to be the mother of a king than Kennit was to father one."

"You should remain near him, for you will be one of the few that know that."

"Who are you? What are you?" he demanded.

The drenching rain descended suddenly in a roar that drowned out speech, and the hailstones grew larger. "Inside!" Wintrow shouted, and led the way at a run. He held the door open and waited for her to follow him. But the cloaked figure who hastened in from the downpour was not Amber but Etta. He looked past her, but saw no one there.

Etta pushed her hood back. Her dark hair was plastered to her skull and her eyes were huge. She caught her breath. Her voice came from the depths of her soul. "Wintrow. I have something to tell you." She drew another breath. Her face suddenly crumpled. Tears ran with the rain down her face. "I don't want to raise this child alone."

He did not take her in his arms. He knew better than that. But the words came easily. "I promise you, you won't have to."

HE ATTACKED HER IN THE DARKNESS, HIS WEIGHT PINNING HER DOWN. FEAR paralyzed her. Althea gasped for air, trying to find a scream. She could not even squeak. She thrashed, trying to escape him, but only hit her head on the wall. There was no air. She could not fight him. With a spectacular effort, she freed an arm and struck him.

"Althea!"

His outraged yell woke her. She jerked to consciousness. The gray of early dawn leaked in the broken window. Brashen sat up on the bed, holding his face. She managed to get a breath in, then panted another. She hugged herself tightly, trying to still her own trembling. "What? Why'd you wake me?" she demanded. She groped after her dream, but could find only the ragged edges of terror.

"Why'd I wake you!" Brashen was incredulous. "You nearly broke my jaw!"

She swallowed dryly. "I'm sorry. I think I had a nightmare."

"I suppose so," he agreed sarcastically. He looked at her, and she hated how his eyes softened with sympathy. She didn't want his pity. "Are you all right now?" he asked gently. "Whatever it was, it must have been bad."

"It was just a dream, Brashen." She pushed his concern aside.

He looked away, cloaking his emotion. "Well. I suppose it's morning, or nearly so. I may as well get dressed." His voice was flat.

She forced a smile. "It's another day. It has to be better than yesterday." She sat up, stretching. Every muscle ached, her head pounded, and she felt half-sick. "I'm still tired. But I'm looking forward to getting under way." That, at least, was true.

"GOOD FOR YOU," BRASHEN GROWLED AT HER. HE TURNED HIS BACK ON HER. HE went to his clothing chest and began to rummage through it. She'd be getting her ship back today. No wonder she was alert with anticipation. He was glad for her. Truly, he was. He could remember what it was like to step up to command. He found a shirt and dragged it on. She'd do well. He was proud of her. She'd been happy for him when he took over Paragon. He was happy for her now. Honestly. He turned back to her. She crouched on the floor by her duffel bag surrounded by scattered garments. The look she gave him was one of misery. She looked so worn, Brashen felt a rush of remorse. "I'm sorry I'm so abrupt," he said gruffly. "I'm just very tired."

"We both are. No need to apologize." Then she smiled and offered him, "You could go back to bed. There's no real reason we both have to be up this early."

Was that supposed to make him feel better? That she was willing to just walk away, leave him sleeping in his bunk? This reminded him too much of the harsh way they'd parted in Candletown. Maybe this was just how Althea Vestrit said goodbye to her men. "You must have slept through that part last night. Wintrow warned us that we'd all have to be up early to catch this tide to get clear of here. Semoy's a good hand, but I want to bring Paragon out of this maze myself."

"I think I can steer a tricky passage as well as you can." She rocked slightly back on her heels to give him an offended look.

"I know you can," he barked back. "But it won't do Paragon much good when you're at Vivacia's wheel," he retorted.

She looked at him blankly. Then her face changed. Understanding dawned. "Oh, Brashen." She came to her feet. "You thought I was going away today. On Vivacia."

"Aren't you?" He hated the slight hoarseness in his voice. He looked at her sullenly, refusing to hope.

She shook her head slowly. He saw an echo of loss in her eyes. "There's no place there for me, Brashen. I saw that yesterday. I will always love her. But she is Wintrow's ship. To take her away from him would be… identical to what Kyle did to me. Wrong."

He fitted the words together. "Then you're staying on with Paragon?"

"Yes."

"And with me?"

"So I assumed." She cocked her head at him. "I thought we both wanted this. To be together." She looked down. "I know it's what I want. Even though I'm losing my liveship, I know I want to be with you."

"Althea, I'm so sorry." He tried to get his face under control. "Really, I am. I know what the Vivacia meant to you, what she still means to you."

Both amusement and irritation glinted in her eyes. "You'd look more sincere, if you'd stop grinning."

"I would if I could," he assured her sincerely. She took three steps. Then she was in his arms. He held her. She was staying with him. She wanted to stay with him. It was going to be fine. For a time he just held her. A long moment later, he asked, "And you're going to marry me? In Bingtown, at the Traders' Concourse?"

"That was the plan," she agreed.

"Oh."

SHE LOOKED UP INTO HIS FACE. HIS EYES AND HIS HEART WERE SO OPEN TO HER now. She saw all the uncertainty and pain she'd caused him, without intention. She had never meant to do that. He smiled at her and she managed to smile back. His hold on her tightened and she resisted the urge to gently free herself. She had to get past this. This was Brashen. She loved him.

She took a breath. She had never imagined that she'd have to force herself to endure his touch. But just this time, just this once, she would, for both of them. She could relax and tolerate it. He needed this reassurance of her love. And she needed to prove to herself that Kennit had not destroyed her. Just this once, she could pretend desire. For Brashen's sake. She turned her mouth up to his and let him kiss her.