Daf Carter stopped on the brink of dawn and watched his reputation plummet into the sea.

He tracked the falling pirates with his revolver, but they were dropping too fast, and then they’d splashed into the turbulent water at the base of the cliffs.

For a second, he just sat there on his horse, mind completely empty.

Hooves crunched on dirt, and Wyatt pulled to a stop next to him, surveying the situation. “There’s the ship,” he said, pointing.

Daf looked to the side and saw the vessel’s midnight sails unfurling as it peeled away from the shadow of the rocks and headed for where the pirates had gone under. As he watched, two heads surfaced—the prisoner Sterling’s with short dark curls, and his rescuer’s with longer black—and ropes were thrown their way.

“Fill their sails with bullets,” Daf instructed, raising his gun again.

“Ain’t gonna do shit,” Wyatt remarked. “Respectfully, Sir.”

“It’ll force them belowdecks,” Daf said, but his arm was already back at his side. Wyatt didn’t need to tell him how many bullets they had left for him to know it wasn’t enough.

He glanced at the revolver in his hand. It was clunky. Unreliable. If the damn pirates hadn’t taken his good one, he’d have incapacitated them on the first shot.

Their escape had been so meticulously executed; he still didn’t really understand what had happened.

“If you’re gonna say something about my gun, you can save it,” Wyatt spoke up sourly.

Daf shook his head. It was his own fault he’d left without his weapon. “Glad you carry extras,” he said simply.

A shout echoed from below, and he saw oars extend from the sides of the ship. As the crew began to row out to sea, a tall man with a large, ornate hat looked up at the two officers. Daf could just make out the smirk on his face.

As the ship escaped the cliff’s shadow and its sails caught the wind, Daf saw the word painted on the side: Starwatch.

Empty waves crashed against rock far below.

After a while, Wyatt said, “It’s not really so bad, you know.”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Adder,” Daf growled.

“No, really. You have now lost a total of one prisoner ever. That’s still leagues better than any other Sheriff on this continent.”

He closed his eyes and took a long, slow breath. “Let’s go check on Easten and Robins.”

The ride back to town felt infinitely faster than the wild chase out, despite their more relaxed pace. But when they got back to the town entrance, Daf wished it had taken longer.

It looked like the whole damn town was waiting there to see him come back empty-handed.

People crowded the road near the town’s back entrance, murmuring anxiously among themselves. When they spotted him rounding the bend, the chatter lifted into the air and held its breath. For a long moment, the only sounds were the clopping steps of the two horses.

Daf took a long breath. There was no point in skirting the issue, so he announced, “They escaped.”

The sound came crashing back down around him. People pressed in, asking what had happened, and what he was going to do about it, and if the pirates were going to come back. Daf wanted to dismount and hide behind his horse.

Instead, he turned to Wyatt as his heels nudged Sundance through the crowd. “Get someone on temporary guard duty,” he instructed. “Then head to Levi’s place and make sure Easten got Robins there alright. I’ll meet you there.”

Wyatt nodded sharply. “Where you going?”

Daf let a breath hiss through his teeth. His eyes darted across the watching faces. “I have to report to the Mayor.” In a lower voice, he admitted, “I’d love to get there before anyone else gives him the news.”

“D’you have a script for this conversation? Or were you sure you’d never have to have it?”

Daf narrowed his eyes, and Wyatt got the message, nodding again before trotting away.

Jackson Dayfield was Hashton’s third Mayor, currently serving his third four-year term. His house sat on a small hill near the docks, overlooking the water and the ever-increasing trade it brought.

Daf slid down from Sundance’s back, handed her reins to a teenager outside the stable, and hiked up the slope toward the house. Waist-high clubleaf plants grew unrestricted around the narrow path, their tendril-like branches swatting at his legs and solidifying his frustration into a brick at the bottom of his stomach. He had the urge to stop and prune the bushes right that second, and couldn’t tell if it was due to his anxiety at the approaching conversation, or his sheer disgust for the state of the property.

Jackson smiled brightly from his breakfast table when Daf pushed the door open. “Daffodil. Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

A good-natured smile formed on Daf’s face without his permission, and his clenched fists hid themselves behind his back. Sometimes it felt like Jackson had more control over Daf’s body than Daf did himself. “Sure is,” he agreed.

“If you aren’t too busy, would you mind checking the shipment we just got from Chrysanthes? We’re expecting some good building materials, several ships worth-”

“I have bad news,” Daf interrupted.

Jackson’s eyebrow quirked in interest.

He pulled in a slow breath, trying to hold onto his courage. He’d formed the right words, but they had their claws sunk into his throat and refused to be moved.

“What is it, Daffodil?”

“One of our prisoners escaped. The pirate from yesterday morning.”

Both of Jackson’s eyebrows were raised now. He sounded perfectly calm as he asked, “How did that happen?”

“One of his crewmates snuck into town last night, posing as a messenger from Gradice.”

The Mayor’s eyebrows rose even further.

Daf barreled on. “Somehow he knew that Gradice wants to buy more of our iron. He twisted it into a story about them trying to scam us and resell it. It was believable enough that Adder bought it, and you know he’s not easily convinced. Then the pirate…” Daf took a deep breath. “He snuck over to the jail, and got his friend out. I haven’t figured out exactly how. I still need to speak to my officers.”

Jackson ran a finger over the tabletop in front of him. “How many people know about this?”

“Most of the town, Sir. They saw Adder and I ride out.”

“They know about the escape, but not the specifics.”

Daf nodded.

“Keep it that way.”

Daf frowned. “I’ve just let two dangerous men go loose near our town. The people have a right to know just how dangerous they are.”

Jackson’s eyes snapped to his, and the anger he’d expected to face the moment he walked in was now concentrated in that stare. “You have no idea what someone might do with that information,” the Mayor said in a low tone.

Daf paused. He knew Jackson cared about his reputation—so did Daf, after all—but the worst blow had already been dealt. There was no reason he could think of why the Mayor would want to conceal the details.

He couldn’t be working with the pirates. There would have been a million easier ways to help them.

“You disagree with me?” Jackson prompted, almost amused.

Daf felt as though his limbs were filling with sand. It was a frustratingly familiar feeling—every time he needed to be careful around the Mayor, he got clumsy in a way he never did anywhere else. “I do, Sir,” he admitted.

“You think scaring my people will benefit them more than it will cause chaos?”

“They’ve already been scared,” Daf protested. “They trust me not to hide things from them. And I’ve earned that, unlike you.”

Both men froze.

“That wasn’t what I-”

“Daffodil.” Jackson cut him off sharply, sucking Daf’s voice straight out of the air.

“Sir?”

The Mayor stood, face ice cold. “You seem to have forgotten your place. Giving important information to anyone with ears, picking fights with me of all people. Not to mention your carelessness in letting two pirates escape our town.”

Daf could hear what was coming. He wanted to reach out and stop it, because whether he deserved this or not, it should have been caused by his failure as Sheriff. Not a meaningless insult he blurted without thinking.

“Take a break, Daffodil. We might be better off with Clara Robins in charge for a little while.”

Daf felt hot flames of anger begin to spread out from his stomach, but he kept his expression as cold as the Mayor’s. “I’m perfectly capable of doing my job, Jackson. One slip doesn’t change everything else I’ve done for Hashton.”

The Mayor smiled slightly. “It doesn’t. You’ll be remembered as a hero.”

“I don’t want to be remembered as anything. I want to do my fucking job.”

“Out of my house, Daffodil.”

This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t reasonable. He didn’t deserve this. But his hand had already unlatched the door.

“Tell Sheriff Robins to come speak with me.”

“Will do, Sir,” Daf growled. “As soon as she’s conscious.”

Daf strode into Levi’s house with fury still seething through him. The doctor took one look at him, swallowed, and nodded their head to a room down the hall. “She may have a concussion,” they reported quickly as he walked past them. “But it doesn’t look that bad.”

He held back a retort and forced out a “Thank you,” then opened the door to Clara’s room.

Hashton’s new Sheriff was lying in bed next to a ridiculous pile of blankets she’d probably kicked off. Her auburn hair had been pulled from its braid and lay splayed out over her head. The other two officers sat in chairs nearby; it looked like they’d been engaged in some sort of debate, but when they saw Daf, they shut up immediately.

“You look even grumpier than you did earlier,” Wyatt observed. “Woulda said it was impossible.”

“I’ve been demoted,” Daf announced.

The room fell silent.

“Excuse me?” Clara demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’ve been named Sheriff of Hashton. Congratulations.” Daf wished he could’ve said it genuinely—it wasn’t like this was Clara’s fault—but it was all he could do to restrain himself from emptying Wyatt’s gun into the nearest wall.

Apparently Clara felt the same way. “Fuck that,” she declared.

“Fuck that,” Wyatt echoed.

“You should try waiting a couple days,” Eddy suggested, shifting his large form forward in his chair. “Maybe Jackson will realize he made a mistake.”

Wyatt snorted. “You should try telling Jackson he’s full of shit.”

“That’s exactly what got me fired,” Daf retorted.

Clara shook her head. “That man is borderline cruel to you. He has insane expectations, and even when you somehow meet most of them, he finds something to complain about. If you want me to talk to him-”

“We’re done with this discussion,” Daf growled, raking his eyes around the room. “Now, is someone going to tell me what the hell happened last night?”

“Sure,” Clara said. “Wyatt led a pirate into our town and left him unsupervised.”

“He didn’t look like a pirate,” Wyatt protested. “You didn’t figure it out either, until he and his friend were halfway through kicking your ass.”

“They wouldn’t have kicked my ass if the three of you had come out right away instead of getting horses first.”

Eddy huffed. “We thought they were going back to Gradice. Daf said they might have horses hidden down the road.”

Daf rolled his eyes. “Everyone pause,” he said quietly. They stopped their arguing and turned toward him. “I need the story from each of you, from the beginning. Starting with Adder.”

A few minutes later, Daf was getting a sense of how he’d been tricked. Somehow, the pirate—who probably wasn’t really named Kas—had left the inn after Wyatt escorted him there, tricked Eddy into letting him into the jail, gone upstairs while Daf and Wyatt were away, and then somehow made it out the back of a building with no back entrance.

Daf desperately wanted to know the pirate’s face, but all he’d seen was a running form in the distance and a ponytail of black hair disappearing over the edge of a cliff. Wyatt said it had been too dark to see an eye color, but insisted that ‘he didn’t look like a pirate’ and that he’d know him if he saw him.

“And now he’s ruined my career and happily sailed away,” Daf summarized, slumping back against the wall.

Clara met his eyes. “What are you going to do about this, Sir?” The forceful tone carried her silent message: ‘You’re still in charge as far as I care, and I expect you to act like it.’

That really only left Daf with one answer. “I’m going to chase the pirates and earn my position back.”

Wyatt gave him a dubious look. “Boat’s a lot faster than a horse.”

He shook his head. “True, but they came here for a reason. They may have escaped unharmed, but they didn’t take any supplies.”

Clara picked up his reasoning. “They’ll have to rob the next town up to get whatever they needed. Tarriva, most likely.”

Daf let the beginnings of a smile reach his eyes as he glanced around at his officers. “I could make it there before they finish the robbery. In a way, I’d be doing Tarriva a favor.”

“What about Hashton?” Eddy protested. “I know there aren’t a lot of pirate ships around this continent yet, but there are plenty of bandits. They could take the opportunity while you’re gone.”

Clara propped herself up on her elbows. “The three of us can handle most bandits just fine,” she said. “I know we’re all a little shaken up right now, but fact is, we’re still good at what we do.”

Wyatt nodded fervently in agreement.

Daf glanced around the room at the three waiting sets of eyes. “Alright,” he said finally, standing straight. “I’m chasing the pirates. Go ahead and tell Jackson, I’m sure he won’t care. While I’m gone, you’ll address Robins as the Sheriff. And if there isn’t any trouble…” He lowered his voice. “Try to figure out how any of this might have affected Jackson. Beyond ruining his town’s reputation as a safe place.”

Eddy frowned. “Why?”

“Something wasn’t right with him today. He insisted that I shouldn’t share the details with anyone, and I want to know if there’s a particular part of it he’s trying to hide.”

Clara nodded. “Understood, Sir.” She paused, then added, “Be careful.”

“Kick some pirate ass,” Wyatt added.

Daf finally let himself smile as he left the room. He thanked Levi, then retrieved Sundance from the stable and led her toward the town’s back entrance. People swarmed him again, but for once, Daf didn’t acknowledge them. Jackson would address them later.

Something in the back of Daf’s mind was screaming as he mounted his horse. I don’t deserve this, it was trying to tell him. One failure isn’t enough to lose my place in Hashton.

This is wrong.

But he’d failed to do his duty. If he wanted a place in Hashton, he could earn it back.

He clicked his tongue and nudged his heels into Sundance’s flanks, riding into the dust with his reputation crumbling to the ground behind him.