Page 174 of Sword & Sacrifice

Emmaline would have liked to examine the book closer, see what kind of mage it had belonged to, but she reluctantly returned it. “Did you ever meet your father?” Was he as big a disappointment as mine?

Echo packed everything up into her sewing basket. “Not that I know of, but if his grimoire is anything to go by, he’s a master of disguise, so who knows?”

As they strode across the deck, crew members waved and called out cheerful greetings. Either Echo had gone around, re-introducing herself to everyone, or they were all used to her constantly changing appearances. The crew seemed more interested in Emmaline, their eyes following her across the deck. Their gazes didn’t hold the same hostility or hunger as the men on her father’s ship. Quite a few of the crew members were women, and even more of them were difficult to identify.

“Do you make glamours for other people on the ship?” Emmaline asked.

“If they want them,” Echo said with a careless shrug. “It’s useful to have a few dozen shapeshifters on board. No one ever knows quite what any of us look like.”

Emmaline thought back on the androgynous appearance she’d seen yesterday. “Is the other one the real you?”

Waggling her eyebrows and leering, Echo said, “The only way to find out is to get me completely naked.”

I should have known they wouldn’t really let me change the subject, Emmaline thought with a bemused shake of her head.

Echo led Emmaline below deck to a storage area filled with clothes and costumes. “Left side is glamoured, right side is—shit!” Echo jumped back, hand to her chest, as she glared at something beyond the rack of clothes.

“What is it?” Emmaline whispered, heart pounding. Has one of my father’s men snuck onto the ship?

“A little rat!” Echo exclaimed, reaching between two finely sewn jackets. The rat squeaked in indignation as Echo dragged him out into the open.

A lanky adolescent glared up at them with honey-brown eyes. He was a few inches shorter than both Emmaline and Echo, who were currently the same height. “I’m not a rat,” he insisted, lips pursed sullenly. “I’m a—an honored guest.” His voice cracked on the last syllable and red stained his cheeks.

“Why are there so many guests on this ship?” Echo demanded. “It’s only been a month since I last checked in and we’re overrun with civilians!” Realizing Emmaline was one of those guests, she hurriedly added, “Not you, Em. You’re my guest, so you’re different.”

The boy scowled at Echo for a moment, then wiped the expression from his face as he turned to Emmaline. “Koen Ellard, at your service,” he said, bowing prettily at the waist.

“Emmaline Orestes,” she replied, curtseying for him.

“Koen sure is a fancy name for a little sneak rifling through my supplies,” Echo said, still glowering at the boy. “Authorized personnel only.” She used both hands to shoo the boy toward the door.

Koen allowed himself to be ushered out, glancing one last time over his shoulder at Emmaline. “Are you joining us for—”

Echo shut the door in his face before he finished the question, leaning against it like she expected the boy to break it down and barge back inside. Huffing in annoyance, she said, “Let’s find something more practical for you to wear, shall we?”

Dressed and feeling much more herself, Emmaline and Echo made their way down to the wardroom. A few off-duty sailors were inside, eating breakfast or playing cards.

“Sit here,” Echo instructed, grabbing Emmaline’s shoulders and gently pushing her down onto a bench. “I’ll get us some breakfast.” Then she hurried to the small galley on the other side of the room.

Barely five seconds passed before Emmaline was surrounded, everyone converging on her table. Questions came all at once, battering her like storm waves on the hull of the ship.

“Are you really Shaw’s daughter?”

“What’s it like having a witch as a mother?”

“Do you really know the Arnsveldian King?”

“I thought it was the Bellacostan King?”

“Are you married?”

“How old are you?”

“Are you and Echo together?”

A high-pitched voice called over the rest, “You’re bothering her.” The speaker cleared their throat and lowered their voice to an unintimidating growl, “Go away.”

The crew turned, eyebrows raised, to look at the person who’d interrupted them.