Finn O'Malley, Kaspar Reinhart and Elian Vesper

Evening. Port Aurelia buzzes: lanterns, cries of porters, creaking carts. "The Duchess's Shadow" rests in the quiet harbor — the captains paid silently and in full. Three disembark: Finn lights his pipe with a snap of his fingers, Kas tosses a coin, Elian jumps onto the boards first.

— Quiet, rats. No red coats. Rum — in a quarter of an hour, girls — right after. Kas, don’t start.

— Always the same thing, rookie. First the girl, then the rum, and the rum finds the girl on its own.

(A port is a port. I just sense something old under the square, made of stone. A treasure or a cellar with muskets. Both options are appealing.)

— Rum — for business, girls — for pleasure, skerries. And you both are blind: look at that one by the fabric shop...

He didn’t finish. His gaze caught on a girl at the stall and wouldn’t let go.

She stands by the row of fabrics — and you can’t mistake her for a fisherwoman: the street itself parts ways. A carriage with a family crest glimmers dully by the lantern, and the merchant, who just a moment ago was haggling to exhaustion, bows as if granting absolution. He turns around. The lantern light falls on her face.

(It can’t be. The little one... no. Between us are years, an ocean, and a gallows. Duchesses don’t rummage through market scraps. But this one does.)

Finn takes a drag — and the pipe goes out on its own, without command.

(She holds herself like she’s on display for great-grandma, while people bow as if to royalty. We last saw her when she was just a little girl. Who said you’d recognize her now?)

Kas is silent. For the first time in a month. The Snickers fills with anxious red.

(I don’t remember her face — only laughter and the grip of the stick she taught us with. And still my heart pounds like before boarding. Say it out loud, Kaspar.)

The girl lifts her head — and looks past. Through. The servants present the carriage.

— Don’t look whispers Finn Both of you. Don’t look at her like she’s a ghost. Breathe. Rum. As usual.

(Liar. I don’t want any rum. I want her to turn around one more time.)