Ian and his followers quickly concluded that they did not want to stay in town, or anywhere near the Sapphire Temple. They traveled as far as Jamie could walk, and then traveled a little farther, with Montague carrying the Boy.

  Though it annoyed him to camp out so close to perfectly good inns and houses, Ian had to admit that camping with Montague was much more pleasant than camping alone. She’d brought decent quality gear and did most of the work.

  (She had expected him to help, but quickly decided that it would be better if she just did things herself. While a bit insulting, this suited Ian fine. He tended the fire and guarded the campsite while Jamie dozed, and the Captain gathered more firewood.)

  “Y’know,” said Montague as she returned with an armful of dry branches, “I think that guy may be a problem going forward.”

  “It is possible,” Ian admitted.

  “We probably should’ve killed him. In the moment it seemed pleasantly dramatic and all t’simply pass him by, but perhaps it would have been more prudent.”

  “Less of a ‘should’ and more of a ‘could,’ Captain.”

  Montague snorted derisively and dropped her bundle. “Y’think we couldn’t take ‘em?”

  “I think there were three armed men, and while we had them outmatched in theory, I was magically tapped; Jamie was exhausted, and completely drained of magic, and then he drank a potion to replenish it, and then was completely drained of magic again; and you were injured. And don’t tell me you weren’t flagging.”

  “Ah, it’s nothing.”

  Ian watched Montague closely. Saw her wincing and straining. She was stronger than him even so, but clearly not at her best. “Let me look at that, incidentally.”

  Montague shrugged and raised her shirt.

  “Get closer to the firelight.” He touched her discolored skin. “Yes, similar to Sammy’s injury.”

  “Can’t be, I’m fine.” She shrugged him off and buttoned her shirt back up.

  “Well, a papercut and a sword slice are very different, but they’re still the same kind of injury.” Ian shook his head. “You’ll live. As you say, it’s not as bad an injury, and you’re tougher than she is.”

  “Well now, I wouldn’t say that about poor Sammy,” said Montague, giving him a sad look as she swept off her hat and held it against her chest.

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  “No, but you’d think it all the same.”

  Montague guffawed and plopped her hat back in place. “It does seem we’re gettin’ to know each other, Mr. Blackwing.”

  Sitting down on one of the old logs they’d arranged around the campfire, the Captain dipped a ladle into the stew.

  “Smells good,” said Ian.

  “Smells about done. Looks it, too. Should we wake the Boy or let him sleep?”

  “Sleep, I think.”

  “And where are we headed, after this, Mr. Blackwing?”

  “Nowhere.” Montague raised an eyebrow. “I mean,” Ian clarified, “the Verdant Wood is the next closest location.”

  “And I’m sure y’hid your little Crystal in the deepest, darkest part of the forest?”

  “Naturally.”

  “Where it’s said to be haunted?”

  “Yes, but that’s a myth.”

  “Oh good!”

  “Hardly.” Ian ladled stew into one of the tin dishes Montague had brought. He’d say she was more prepared for this trip than he was, but then he had never intended to set out. “It’s a bit… feral. Primal.”

  “Wild beasts?”

  “Fairies.”

  Montague chuckled as she tucked into her stew. “So, no trouble at all, then?”

  “My dear Captain,” Ian answered her gravely, “I fear you are uneducated on this matter.”

  “Oh? Well, I’ll look forward to being enlightened, then. But for now, why don’t you rest while I take watch.”

  Ian hesitated. “You’re injured.”

  “And you’re useless without magic, while I can still shoot things.”

  This was true enough. Ian stood and approached the canvas tent. He hesitated again. “Thank you again, Captain.”

  “Hm? What’s that now?”

  “For coming back.”

  He ducked under the tent flap before she could say anything else. The tent had a stale, damp smell, as though it hadn’t been properly dried before being put away on The Pearl’s Mistress. Domestic magic wasn’t really his thing, but perhaps he’d look up a proper cleaning spell. Jamie was quite dead to the world, so Ian scooted as far from the Boy as he could get as quietly as he could manage.

  Ian lay on the hard ground under a ragged blanket. He’d slept out in the woods before, during his first journey, but he’d brought more magical comforts from home with him at the time. Other than that, he’d always slept in his own chamber in Blackwing Manor. Even before he’d inherited the Manor and moved into the master suite, his bedroom had been rather larger than this tent, or even Sammy’s cabin back on the ship, and he hadn’t had to share it.

  But while he preferred solitude, maybe the company wasn’t such a terrible thing. For a time. It would get old fast, Ian was sure. But Jamie felt safe here, for some reason, and that was infectious. Even stranger, Ian felt he could trust Montague with the watch. He knew she wouldn’t leave him in the night. Or rob him, which frankly was what he felt he should expect.

  Really, he felt warm and safe and comfortable, and the form breathing beside him also felt warm and safe.

  Ian blinked. The only other person breathing in the tent was Jamie, a young Boy who was as far away from him as he could get. The ground was hard, the blanket was useless, and Montague was shaking him awake so he could take his turn at watch.