The moon was almost full overhead by the time they reached the end of the world.
Marked by an empty palace at the center of an archipelago, it was a lonely, haunted place. Luckily for them, the Court of Piracy had all made it here and they decided to make it a party. After all, this night could too easily be their last.
Bonfires were scattered all along the beach, and the crews of the other ships were dancing, feasting, drinking, and singing.
The Volkvolny was far more somber. Alina knew that the others were down in the galley, gambling and playing cards, but they did not do so with the same light-hearted bravado as the others she watched on the beach.
They had already lost so much to the Darkling and the gods at World's End. For them, this fight was so much more than it was for the rest of the Court of Piracy.
Indeed, they could not even join the festivities if they wanted to because of the monstrous forms they assumed in the moonlight.
However, Alina couldn't help but watch the others from the ghostly deck of the Volkvolny. She considered joining them on the beach. For all that they had been intimidating in the Crow Club, she knew that now they were allies, and it was hard to be afraid of them when they celebrated like this.
But she couldn't be as merry and light as they were, on the eve before battle with Death himself.
She drew the blade Nikolai had given her. The Swords of the Court of Piracy were works of art, their hilts each unique but carrying the intricate and identifying marks of craftsmanship that only could come from a goddess.
The blade glowed a sickly green in the moonlight. When Alina looked into her reflection in the glowing steel, it wasn't her that was looking back.
Not quite. A woman about her age, with dark hair and a scar down her palm, in black and gold pirate gear.
Her mother, she realized with a beat.
She blinked—it was just the usual Alina Starkov, Alina Keramsov, staring back at her.
She tilted the sword, trying to capture the effect again. As quickly as it had come, it was gone.
Then there was a monstrous figure behind her, showing in the glowing steel.
Alina whirled around—only to recognize the now-familiar features of the Volkvolny's curse and the teal coat of its captain.
"I see you're trying out the new sword—best to get that done before the battle tomorrow."
Alina frowned, lowering the blade. "So we will be fighting the Darkling, then?"
"Hopefully not—but even then, we would likely fall to his shoulders, the dead under his employ."
Alina shuddered at the thought—was that the fate that had befallen her poor parents, and all who had been taken by the Darkling?
She sheathed her sword, feeling its weight too much on her wrist.
She turned back to the side of the ship.
"Pirates know how to party." There was appreciation and envy in Nikolai's voice. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his onyx claws close around the side of the ship. "Better than all the balls of Ravka."
"I wouldn't know," Alina admitted. "I might have made my debut in the coming year, since I'd just turned eighteen, or thereabout—but likely I wouldn't have, with my marriage to the Commodore."
"I promise, you weren't missing much," Nikolai assured her. "Just a bunch of aristocrats chatting about and making fools of themselves for politics and back-door deals. In the most uncomfortable of clothes, too."
"That is true." Alina hesitated. "But I also would have liked to look beautiful, to be the center of attention. Just for one night—and to dance a waltz, even though that would have been quite a scandal!"
She tried to laugh it off—but Nikolai did not.
He only tilted his head, considering her. "I learned to waltz, back in Ravka. Perhaps I could—"
"Oh, no." Alina's cheeks flushed. "I don't think I could-"
"And why not?" Nikolai was teasing again. "We have the music."
Indeed, Alina could hear the fiddle, the tambourine, and a chorus of voices singing their rowdy songs from all down the last beach in the world.
"There's the lights, the decorations." He nodded up at the waxing gibbon moon and the millions of stars. "And you have a prince."
He paused, taking in his own monstrous form. "Well, perhaps not the sort of prince a governor's daughter would hope for."
Alina shook her head, then took his hands into hers, guiding them into the proper position. His right hand on her hip. His left palm to her right.
Her hand was small and as pale in moonlight in comparison to his onyx clawed hand.
This certainly was not what she imagined, not even in her wildest fantasies for what her first dance might look like. But she didn't mind, somehow.
"But exactly the sort the daughter of the greatest pirates who ever lived would want."
She met his eyes, even though they were only ink, no whites to them, gleaming oddly, like the water in its darkness.
He led, she followed his every step. She was surprised at her own grace and strength.
She had always been sickly, weak at Port Keramzin. Notoriously clumsy, Ana Kuya had scolded her many times for stepping on her toes when she tried to teach her the minuet.
Alina had always heard that the sea air had healing properties. To see and feel it herself was another thing entirely.
Nikolai twirled her under his arm, humming a few bars of the song, even though they could not quite make out the words from where they stood on the ship deck.
They did not break their shared gaze—it was not uncomfortable, or awkward. There was an intensity to it, certainly—but one that Alina rather liked.
They did not speak, for their eyes did all the conversing they needed.
For one night, there was only the music and their swaying to the tide and the rhythm.