“There.” An arm appeared in my periphery, outstretched toward the Cleaver. Zavier took the place where the Guardian had been standing and pointed to the other ship’s hull. To where a man who’d leaped off this boat only moments ago was already climbing up a rope and onto the other. No mortal man could swim that fast. “What is he?” I whispered. Zavier dropped his arm, eyes still locked on the Guardian. He didn’t answer my question. “Good morning, Odessa.” “Good morning,” I said, glancing between the prince and the Cleaver.
