Alinyaln twirled Syrin by her arm, her dress swirling about her, the shimmering threads she had added beforehand seemed to change color based on momentum: subtle motions caused deep colors, fast movements were light, and this twirl was a vibrant white that made her stand out, accenting her dress and features.

  She was beautiful, and for a moment he felt something in his heart, as if the life he should have always had was beginning to come true.

  No revenge, no sailing across Wrinthim looking for the man who betrayed him, one that he had loved like a brother. But… That means he wouldn’t have had his past, either, one which he wouldn’t have wanted to miss.

  Syrin in his arms, the guise of wealth, the chatter and rapport of his fellow partygoers. Was this the life that he had given up, just to be on the sea? The song slowed down so he pulled Syrin to his chest, holding her hand in his. He kissed it delicately.

  “Oh, Lyn, stop it!” Syrin whispered with a giggle. “We’re not kids anymore.”

  “Sorry,” He said with a smile, then kissed her hand again. “I just got caught up in the moment. It’s just been… Nice, being with you here tonight.” Alinyaln looked over the crowd and none of them paid him or Syrin any mind, all of them so caught up in their own lives and intrigue that Alinyaln, in retrospect, probably could have gone as himself tonight with Syrin, the woman he loves. It would have made dinner less embarrassing, at any rate.

  But the secrecy was good. It helped to ensure that Tyrnarm wouldn’t discover that Alinyaln was on the traitor’s tail. It helped ensure the safety of his crew and those they might talk to.

  Grabbing Syrin by the waist, he pulled her in close, foreheads touching. He breathed in deeply, taking in the smell of her. Nutmeg and sea salt with a hint of flowers.

  Then… Then regret finally settled on his heart and a tear came to his eye, rolling down his cheek. He could feel the moment it rolled across the scar, following it toward his chin.

  “Lyn?” Syrin asked, moving to where she could look at his face. “Lyn, darling, are you alright?” She cupped his face in her hands.

  “Aye…” Alinyaln said after a moment, then he shrugged. “I’m fine, I guess I’m just feeling… Regretful. Of the fact we chose to be apart, to spend our lives apart, when we should have spent them together.” He waved his hand at the room surrounding them. “We could have had all of this, Syrin, but I was a cursed fool who chose his love of the seas over his love of you.” He couldn’t help but feel his tone as being bitter.

  “Alinyaln,” Syrin said, forgoing the use of her pet name for him. “You made the choice that you had to. Do you really think you would have been happy with me, staying around Siston or Loshbor once your wardship with Yamadeon was finished? What, would you have become an actual fisherman, day in day out doing nothing but trying to fill a quota, just so you could be with me?” She paused for a moment, staring intently into his eyes, and Alinyaln could see that her eyes were now wet. “Do you really think I would have been happy knowing that you’d given up your calling just to be with me?”

  Alinyaln found that he couldn’t speak, not at the sight of the burning passion he saw within Syrin’s eyes. But she broke the silence. “I love you, Lyn.” She said, holding his hand to her chest. “I may not say it enough, but I love you, and I would have given anything for your happiness, even at the expense of my own.”

  Her words cut him like a sword. “But… You can’t say you were unhappy, right?” He said, trying to put on his charming smile, the one she had always loved. The heartbreak in his voice didn’t sell it.

  Considering, Syrin nodded. “I’ve had a good life, I think. But I share your regrets, Lyn.”

  Alinyaln sighed, wrapping his arms around her, allowing her to nestle her head against his chest. “I’m sorry I said anything.” He whispered. “All I’ve done is upset you.”

  “You said what you had to.” Syrin retorted. The band had returned from their break, one that Alinyaln hadn’t even noticed, and they began to play something more lively than their last song. Syrin pulled away from him, holding onto both of his hands tightly as if she would fall. They began to rock back and forth, swaying with the music. “I will admit, I’ve often wondered what our life could have been like, had we chosen each other. Would we have wed, had children like we had always planned? Maybe gotten a little cottage somewhere, maybe in Rythmar near the Ice Wall, stayed away from the world for the rest of our lives?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think I would have been happy living like that.” But Alinyaln looked around. “But I can’t say I would have been happy like this, either.”

  “We would have had each other.” Syrin said, her eyes wandering as his did. “We might have been happy together, but we wouldn’t be happy with our lives.”

  They stopped talking after that, letting the music steer them into the rhythm. Alinyaln’s mind began to stray. He had noticed a while ago that Ninia had never returned to her post, but he decided that the lass could take care of herself tonight. The fops here at the party wouldn’t know what to do with her, not when she had her knife with her.

  “We could run away.” Alinyaln blurted out.

  “What?”

  “Run. Away.” Alinyaln said.

  “Lyn, what would we run away from?” Syrin asked.

  “Everything.” Alinyaln said impulsively. “Our lives. We could become Lord Crinst and Lady Rebiska, fishmongers of Arsin, or get that cottage in Rythmar. You could sell your shop in Tusana. I could give the Mercy to Kiara, it’s about time she had her own vessel anyways. The crew would gladly follow her, by the Triplets she already commands them more than I do anyways.”

  “Such a neat little package, Lyn.” Syrin said as they spun together. “But you wouldn’t do that.”

  “Wouldn’t I?” Alinyaln asked. “Syrin, I—I’m so tired. Tired of hunting a man that had once been my best friend. Tired of having to make my way in this ever-changing world, tired of trying to be the best man that I can be, holding so some arbitrary code of morality that I started to uphold because of Yamadeon's flaws.”

  “I always loved you for your 'code of morality.' You vowed to avenge your last crew.” Syrin said plainly. “And Ninia, you wouldn’t abandon her, you love her too much to do that.”

  “Ninia would be better off without me.” Alinyaln muttered. “I haven’t told you but… There was…”

  “There was what?”

  “Pirate raid. The Captain didn’t recognize me, and Ninia…” He struggled to even form the words. “I had to…”

  “I understand, Lyn.” Syrin said gently. “That’s why you’ve been so protective of her.”

  “Kiara could finish her wardship.” Alinyaln declared. “It’s only proper as well, there’s no reason I should be in charge of a teenaged girl who isn’t my daughter. She’d be out of danger, too.”

  “The safest place she could be is near you, Lyn.”

  “Bodies follow me, Syrin. Around me the last thing Ninia is, is safe.” His thoughts drifted back to the man who had been boiled alive. All from a single misunderstanding that exploded into an angry mob. How long until it takes Ninia from him? Even with everything he’d done in his life, he wasn’t prepared for that.

  “Alinyaln, stop.” Syrin said firmly, holding herself in place in order to stop their swaying from the music. They stood there for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. “You need to stop with your self-pity, Lyn. You are the best man that you can be, and that’s all anyone has ever asked of—”

  “Alinyaln!”

  Alinyaln’s heart jumped in his chest at the sound of his name. No one here should have known it, right? Was Syrin overheard? “Alinyaln!” There it was again, closer this time. Alinyaln spun, looking for the source of the voice, reaching for the quiat hidden beneath his coat, when he finally saw a short man moving through the crowd, pushing partygoers out of the way as he approached.

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  Thin with deeply tanned skin, Alinyaln recognized the man all too well; a face full of confusion and anger.

  “Father?”

  *

  “The fuck are you doing here?” Alinyaln asked his father once they exited the party, finding a spot across the road from the party where they likely wouldn’t be interrupted. Light and music emanated from the building, a beacon in the darkness. “You ruined an entire night’s worth of work!” Alinyaln knew he was being hyperbolic; they had graciously left the party, claiming the old man had mistaken him for someone else and would help find the “true Alinyaln” within the party.

  Syrin stood behind Alinyaln, not wanting to face Rytaln, Alinyaln’s father. He had never liked Syrin, which was the first true condemnation Alinyaln had ever felt regarding his father.

  “Is that what you want to say to me after all this time?” Ryntaln asked, sneering at Alinyaln disapprovingly. “Here I am, heartbroken that you didn’t tell me you were in Siston, and now you—”

  “Now I what?” Alinyaln snapped. “Now I’m making you feel unwanted by your only remaining kin? Heartbroken—you’re not heartbroken, father, you just feel left out because I didn’t want you to know I was here.”

  Ryntaln glared, then glanced behind Alinyaln at Syrin. “Still with the hussy I see.” He sniffed. “What did you do to your skin, girl?”

  “Crafting accident.” Syrin said, shrugging off the insult. Alinyaln knew his game, and so too did Syrin.

  “If I’d wanted your disappointment I’d have come directly to the mill, not have you hunt us down to a different part of Siston.” Alinyaln crossed his arms.

  “I didn’t hunt you down, fool boy.” Ryntaln laughed. “A friend of yours found me, paid me a few Gins to come and talk to you for a few.”

  “Who in Tarnation would have found you, old man? I doubt my crew even knows you’re alive.”

  “More alive than your old crew.”

  Before he even knew what had happened, Alinyaln planted a fist right in Ryntaln’s face, cheekbone hard against his knuckle. Ryntaln dropped, holding a hand to his face, expression not of pain but of bewilderment. “Sore spot, I see.” Ryntaln said, shaking his head before climbing back to his feet uneasily. “Such a charming boy Yamadeon raised, cannae acknowledge the existence of his own father and then this?”

  Alinyaln pulled the quiat from his coat and held it to the side, keeping it dark. “Why. Are. You. Here?”

  Ryntaln eyed Alinyaln, but a part of Alinyaln was glad to see a flicker of fear in the man’s dark eyes, particularly once they glanced at the metal in his hand. “I told ye already. A friend found me.”

  “And who is this friend?” Alinyaln spat.

  “Lyn.” A man’s voice said from the shadows at the side of the building, a voice that made Alinyaln drop the quiat. The figure, once hidden in the darkness, stepped out into the lamplight being cast from the nearby streetlamp, a tall man with dirty blond hair covered with a black and red bandanna, the curling hairs that escaped covered his ears like sideburns. His blue eyes seemed to glow in the light. Hidden within his shirt, Alinyaln could see the leather cord holding something beneath his shirt.

  Tyrnarm.

  In an instant Alinyaln’s gun was in his hand, pointed directly at Tyrnarm’s forehead, not the noisemaker packed with whitepowder, the true pistol, the one Tyrnarm had left him to die with. Though the action was meant to be intimidating, the effect was lessened by the horrible trembling in Alinyaln’s arm.

  “You.”

  “Me.”

  “You have ‘til three.” Alinyaln said, pulling the hammer back. Why was he hesitating?

  Tyrnarm sighed, taking a step forward. “Lyn, Yamadeon taught us to never threaten to shoot someone.” He took another step. “You either shoot, or you don’t.”

  “Try me.”

  “Three.” Tyrnarm said with a smile.

  “Lyn, stop.” Ryntaln said, stepping in the way of the two men, a brave act as Alinyaln was more than ready to shoot his father as well. “Just talk to him, son.”

  Alinyaln pushed Rytaln to the side with his free hand. “I’ll deal with you after.”

  Tyrnarm smirked, but not in derision. He waved to the side where a bench sat against the building. “Please, sit. I come in peace. I would have brought a flag of parlay but I figured this was better.”

  He glanced at Syrin for reassurance. She shook her head. “Don’t do it,” the motion meant. Inspecting Tyrnarm, Alinyaln saw the nearly pleading look the man adopted onto his face, a sincere look. One that had gotten them into trouble on more than one occasion.

  “Speak.” Alinyaln said, not taking the offered spot next to Tyrnarm, gun still outstretched. With a deliberate inhake of breath, Alinyaln was able to calm his trembling hand, keeping the gun more strictly focused on Tyrnarm.

  Squinting at Alinyaln, Tyrnarm shrugged. “You need to abandon your quest of vengeance.”

  “You’re telling me I’m getting close to figuring out what you’re up to.” Alinyaln deduced. “What’s to stop me from killing you right now?”

  “Honor.” Tyrnarm said. “I know you, Lyn, and I know the stories that you so desperately wish to be a part of. You wouldn’t kill a man in cold blood. Not even at your worst.”

  “Maybe I’ve changed.”

  “You haven’t.” Tyrnarm then looked over at Syrin. “How lovely it is to see you again, Syrin, I’m sorry for not addressing you sooner. Have you been well?”

  Syrin gasped as Tyrnarm spoke to her. Syrin stepped out from her spot behind Alinyaln, but not in front of the gun. “I wish I could say the same, Tyrnarm.”

  “I love what you did to your skin, by the way.” Tyrnarm said waving his fingers in the air. “It’s something of a statement, really, one I can get behind.”

  “I made it one.” Syrin said, shaking her head at Tyrnarm. “Why did you do it, Tyrnarm?”

  “Why did I do what? Save Lyn’s life?” Tyrnarm asked with a knowing grin.

  “Save me?” Alinyaln barked. “You ate my fucking crew, seven good men worth, shot me in the face,” He pointed at the scar on his cheek for emphasis, “And left me for dead with a cursed pistol meant for me to take my own life.”

  “What’s this, now?” Ryntaln asked, interjecting at the accusation.

  “This man,” Alinyaln said, waving the pistol at Tyrnarm, “Is with the Orsinum. He attacked my ship.”

  “And I spared you.” Tyrnarm said, standing up. “I spared you from your fate. You know what the Orsinum would have done to you. Eaten you alive, one bite at a time, hoping to take your power into themselves.”

  “You’ll regret that decision.” Alinyaln didn’t hear past the first few words, anger making it hard to think. His vision had turned red long ago, and finally the blood rushing in his ears had overtaken his senses.

  Tyrnarm smiled. “Lyn, I am telling you this one more time; Leave. Take Syrin, take the girl, go and do whatever you want. But you need to get off of my trail. Now.”

  “That—” Alinyaln hesitated. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Look,” Tyrnarm held his hands up defensively. “I have… People… to report to. They want you, Lyn, and they want you to follow me. I didn’t use Yamadeon’s name on the records in Rythmar on accident, I didn’t lead you to Loshbor on accident. But, right here, this is the point of no return.

  “You can turn back now and save yourself. Go to Arsin where they won’t be able to find you.”

  Alinyaln’s blood chilled at this. “Have you been watching us?” He whispered.

  “Not tonight, no, not since I knew where you’d be.” Tyrnarm said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The people I report to, they don’t know I’m here right now. Please. If you abandon the trail we laid out, they’ll hunt for you, yes, but they won’t be able to find you. If you keep going, then they’ll have no choice but to take you and use you.”

  “Use me for what?”

  “The birth of Orsin.”

  Alinyaln gaped at the man, but then laughed. “You’ve never been a clever man, Tyr, do you really think I’m going to believe that load of nonsense?”

  Tyrnarm shook his head. “Believe me or not, Lyn, but just try to remember this conversation.” He gave a mockingly formal bow to Alinyaln, then nodded to Ryntaln and Syrin. “Until next time, Lyn.” And in the space of a breath, Tyrnarm faded into nothingness.

  Alinyaln dropped the pistol at the display. Had he really been here, was had he been an illusion?

  “Lyn, are you alright?” Syrin asked, putting her hand on his arm.

  “I—No.” Alinyaln said, taking a deep breath, then stooped down to grab the gun off of the ground. “No, I am certainly not alright.”

  “Son, I’m sorry, I didn’t know—” Ryntaln began, but with a glare from Alinyaln, the older man stopped talking.

  “Didn’t. Know.” Alinyaln’s hands began to tremble.