The room felt smaller with Vale inside it. The weight of his words pressed down like an anchor dragging me beneath the surface. I forced myself to stand straighter, to meet his gaze, but there was something in those black eyes—something knowing.

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I said, my voice steady despite the unease curling in my gut.

  Vale smiled, slow and sharp. “Not yet.” He turned his gaze to Mira. “Have you told him anything?”

  Mira’s arms crossed over her chest. “Told him what?”

  Vale sighed as if he expected that answer. His fingers tapped against the hilt of the dagger at his belt. Not a threat. Not yet. But a reminder.

  “This is a mistake,” he murmured, more to himself than to us. “He shouldn’t be walking around. Not with the mark.”

  The mark.

  I stiffened, my mind flashing back to the faint memory of the prisoners below deck—their black eyes, the unnatural stillness in their bodies.

  “What do you mean, ‘the mark’?” I asked, glancing between them. “What’s on me?”

  Vale’s eyes darkened. “You really don’t remember.”

  “No,” I snapped. “And I’m getting tired of people acting like I should.”

  For a moment, there was only silence. The ship creaked around us, the steady rhythm of the waves filling the space Vale left empty. Then, without a word, he stepped forward, closing the gap between us.

  Before I could move, he grabbed my wrist and yanked up my sleeve.

  A gasp left Mira’s lips.

  I looked down.

  A symbol—dark, swirling, and intricate—was etched into my skin. It looked almost like a crest, shifting faintly under the lantern’s glow, as if it were alive.

  My breath hitched. That wasn’t there before.

  I jerked my arm away. “What the fuck is this?”

  Vale tilted his head, studying me like I was some puzzle he was close to solving. “Proof.”

  “Proof of what?” I snapped.

  “That the Drowned King has a claim on you.”

  The words sent ice through my veins.

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  Mira took a step back, her face pale.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” I muttered. “I don’t even know who the Drowned King is.”

  Vale’s smile didn’t waver. “But he knows you.”

  My hands curled into fists. “Then maybe you should start talking, because I’m done with the cryptic bullshit.”

  Vale studied me for a long moment. Then, to my surprise, he nodded.

  “Fine,” he said, stepping back. “I’ll tell you what you need to know.”

  We moved to the captain’s quarters. It was larger than the room we had been in, but the walls still felt like they were pressing in. A massive table dominated the space, maps and scattered papers covering its surface. The lanternlight flickered, casting shadows that danced against the wooden walls.

  Vale stood near the window, looking out at the sea. Mira lingered near the door, arms still crossed, her jaw tight. I didn’t know if she was angry or afraid.

  I sat across from Vale. He turned to face me, his expression unreadable.

  “Do you know why you were on that mission?” he asked.

  I exhaled sharply. “I don’t even know what the mission was.”

  Vale nodded, like he expected that answer. “It was supposed to be simple. Infiltrate the Drowned Fleet. Stop the shipment before it reached the King’s hands.”

  The Drowned Fleet. That name rang in my head like a distant bell. I knew it. Even if I couldn’t remember why.

  “You and Mira weren’t alone,” Vale continued. “There were others with you. Fighters, smugglers, spies. People willing to risk everything to stop what was coming.”

  I glanced at Mira. She didn’t look at me.

  Vale leaned forward. “And you were leading them.”

  The words hit me like a punch to the ribs.

  “That’s not possible,” I said.

  Vale smirked. “It is. And here’s the worst part.” He let the words sink in before he continued. “You failed.”

  The room went still.

  Mira shifted, arms tightening around herself.

  “Something happened,” Vale said. “Something none of us saw coming. And because of it, the King got what he wanted.”

  I shook my head. “That doesn’t explain why I don’t remember anything.”

  Vale’s expression darkened. “No. It doesn’t.”

  The sea doesn’t forget.

  Then why did I?

  I clenched my fists, trying to force my mind past the fog in my thoughts. If I led the mission, then I should remember something—anything. But when I reached for the past, all I found was emptiness.

  Vale watched me, his gaze unreadable. Then he sighed and turned, rummaging through the mess of maps and papers on the desk. A moment later, he pulled out a folded parchment, the edges damp from the salty air. He slid it across the table.

  I hesitated, then picked it up and unfolded it.

  The parchment was a list of names.

  Some were crossed out.

  Some had symbols next to them—marks I didn’t understand.

  But one name stood out, bold and unmarked.

  My own.

  Ethan Pryce.

  I looked up at Vale. “What is this?”

  “The names of every person on your crew,” he said, voice quieter now. “The ones who came with you on that mission.”

  I scanned the list again, my eyes catching on names that should have meant something—but didn’t. I should know these people. I should remember them. But I didn’t.

  Mira moved closer, peering at the list over my shoulder. Her breath hitched.

  Her name was there, too.

  So was another.

  Weasel.

  My grip tightened on the parchment. “Weasel was one of us.”

  “Yes,” Vale said. “And he’s the one who betrayed you.”

  The ship creaked around us, the waves crashing against the hull.

  Weasel.

  Another name that should have meant something. But all I felt was a hollow space where memory should have been.

  I swallowed hard. “Where is he?”

  Vale leaned back, a slow smile spreading across his face.

  “Alive,” he said. “For now.”

  The room felt colder.

  For now.

  The meaning was clear.

  He wouldn’t be alive for much longer.

  And if I wanted answers, I had to get to him before it was too late.