Ranan snorts, the sound full of derision. It’s clear he doesn’t believe me. “Stay here until we make land.”

As if I have anywhere to go?

It’s a long, lazy morning.

I have to admit, I’m not used to those. Mornings as a slave are full of early starts and endless chores. Even before, when I wasn’t a slave, I had to take care of my father’s house and feed the chickens. There’s nothing for me to do here, though, so I sit and admire the scenery, watching the view change from alarmingly rocky cliffs to sandy shores. I soak up the sunshine and finger-comb my hair, and it feels both odd and pleasant to sit around and do nothing. It’s jarring, of course, but…still nice.

Ranan works as Akara swims. He fills the strange-looking cage with more seaweed to dry, testing strands and removing ones that have crisped up in the sun. He weaves them into a long length that he stores away, and frowns at me when I ask what he’s doing. Then he works on sharpening his strange little knives and disappears into the waves again, swimming alongside the turtle for a time. He fills a barrel with a sand-based filtering system that pulls the salt from the water and makes it potable and keeps refilling it throughout the day so we both have drinking water.

I might as well not exist for all that he pays attention to me.

He’s just not used to having a wife, I remind myself. He’ll need time to get used to another person around.

We come upon a long, sandy stretch of shore with white beaches leading up to tall hills of vibrant green. I’ve heard the lands to the south of Aventine are nothing but dirt, that all the magic has been soaked up from the ground, leaving nothing able to grow. This obviously isn’t that place, but I don’t know where we are. There are a couple of broken-down-looking boats at the far end of the beach, near some jagged-looking rocks, and a hut on stilts. Someone lives around here, then. A friend of Ranan’s?

Somehow, I find it difficult to think of Ranan as having friends. He barely speaks to his wife.

My face feels hot as the massive turtle steers towards the shore, jostling us when she climbs over a sand bank. I glance down at my bare arms and they’re reddened from the endless sunlight. I’m sure I’m going to hurt later, but for now, I’m just enjoying the warmth. I’d rather be warm than shiver, and since my only dress is getting worse by the day, I’ll be happy with nothing but sunshine.

The turtle skims her way into shallow waters and then turns slightly, settling into the sands. Waves crash against her shell, jostling the ground underneath my feet. I look over at Ranan, who wades out to the shore. “Can I go look around?”

He glances over at me, and I get the impression that he’d almost forgotten I was here. “Stay close.”

“I won’t go far,” I tell him brightly. “I just want to look around. Maybe find some pretty shells.”

Ranan makes a flicking gesture with his hand, indicating that I should follow. I move to the side of the turtle and slide into the water…and sputter when it goes over my head. I keep forgetting how very tall my new husband is. A large hand fishes me out of the water, and then an arm locks around my waist. He hauls me toward the shore like I’m a sack of grain and plops me down on the sand the moment we clear the waves. I cough, brushing my wet and wave-ravaged hair off my face. “Thank you.”

“Stay close to Akara,” he growls at me.

“Who’s Akara?”

He gives me an irritated look and stabs a finger at the turtle. Oh. The turtle has a name? Of course it does. Why wouldn’t a turtle have a name? Is it some sort of pet to him, then? More than just a moving island he lives atop? Perhaps Akara is all these things, and I feel foolish for assuming that the turtle is nothing but a means of moving about. Even farmers name their chickens.

“Hello Akara,” I call out to the turtle from my spot on the shore. The creature doesn’t answer, but that’s not unexpected. I can’t even see its head from here. As I straighten, Ranan stalks down the beach. All right, that message is clear—we’re not spending time together.

At least now I have an entire beach to explore.

I spend the next while going up and down the small inlet beach, curling my toes in the warm sands. I’m thirsty, but Ranan didn’t leave the waterskin with me so I’m just going to have to wait. I do find shells, though. There are some large ones, bigger than my palm, and with a deep belly full of shine. I hold each one, determining if it will make a good cup. Two of them are very close in size, and I hold them up to my breasts, wondering if I can make myself some sort of corset with leather straps that will keep everything from bobbing.

The shells are so lovely that I can’t help but gather all of the ones that I find. There’s one that gleams iridescent in the light, and another spiky blue one that has a tiny hole bored through the center that would make a lovely necklace. Like a greedy child, I grip the edges of my dress to act as a sack, using it to hold all the shells as I wander about. Perhaps we can go to a market and I can sell my finds for a few coins at least. I’m sure people farther inland would pay for such charming oddities. They’d make great decorations, and I immediately start to think of all the things people could make with them. Bowls. Spoons. Candle-holders. Shiny bits could be sewn into the neck of a tunic⁠—

“Well, well, well!”

The voice is so raspy and unfamiliar it makes me jump. Several of the shells tumble out of my skirt and land on the sands at my feet. I turn, eyeing the man that’s snuck up on me while I’ve been distracted with my finds.

It’s a stranger, no more than ten paces away from me, and far too close to make me comfortable. The man is a peasant from the look of things, with a scraggly graying beard and weathered clothing. His face is lined and deeply tanned, and when he leers at me, he’s missing a few teeth. “Aren’t you pretty.”

“My thanks,” I say, though I’m not thankful at all. Then, I put my lying skills to work. I crane my head, trying to peek over his shoulder. “Did you pass my husband? He was just here.”

“No one here on this beach but you and me and the boys,” he says, taking another step towards me.

I take a step backward, still clutching my skirts. The boys? I scan the shore quickly and sure enough, there are two other grown men—both larger than I am—watching from nearby, their eyes covetous. I’m a woman alone, which is problematic…but I’m also dressed in what’s clearly a slave garment.

“You’re wrong,” I correct, keeping my tone cheerful. “I’m positive my husband is nearby. You’d know if you saw him. He’s a sea-ogre, and quite a fierce one.”

“That his turtle?”

“Yes it is.” I’m relieved they noticed, though I’d prefer if Akara came out of the water and chased these men off. They’re making me uncomfortable.

Or she could eat them. Truly, I wouldn’t mind that either.

“Call for him,” the bearded man says, and there’s a gleam in his eyes I don’t like. “If he’s nearby, I’m sure he’ll answer.”

I haven’t seen Ranan since I stepped onto the beach, though. He keeps avoiding me as if he hates me, and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m not sure how sea-ogres treat their wives normally but surely better than this? I don’t have any authority to complain, though, and so I’ve ignored it. But my heart sinks as the man takes another step towards me.

If I call for Ranan and there’s no answer, these men are going to snatch me…or worse.

“RANAN,” I yell, as loud as I can.

We wait. I hold my breath, hoping for his crested head to appear. There’s no response, though, and as the moments slide quietly past, my anxiety rises.

The bearded man glances behind me. “Jos, ready the boat. Kep, you know what to do.”