POV: Beth
The day we left the port, the sea was too calm. Suspiciously calm—like a beast holding its breath.
Sails snapped sharply in the early wind, ropes creaked beneath hurried hands, and the crew shouted to one another as we pulled away from shore. I kept to myself on the railing, watching gulls disappear behind us. Everyone looked normal—moving, laughing, swearing—but a tremor ran beneath the ship’s bones. Something wicked was coming. I felt it in my blood first—that strange pull inside me like tides shifting under my ribs.
Mira stood near the helm, laughing with the crew, smoothing her hair back like she was born to stand where I stood once. Alaric was there too—giving orders, confident, handsome, infuriating. He didn’t look at me at first, so I didn’t look at him. But every time I glanced, I found his eyes already halfway turned toward me. He snapped his gaze away quickly—too quickly—as if staring was some kind of betrayal.
Coward.
Fine. Two could play that game.
I turned my back to him, chin high.
But the wind stopped.
Just… stopped.
Voices died mid-sentence. Sails drooped without air. Even the ocean stilled like someone pressed pause on the world.
A cold breath slid across the deck.
Kaine stiffened. Karn grabbed his axe. Mira’s smile drained slowly from her lips.
Then she arrived.
Morwenna—The Drowned Queen.
Her form drifted forward like a shadow wearing a woman. Water dripped from the hem of her gown though she touched no sea. Her hair floated around her head like midnight ink in black water. Her eyes locked onto mine—ancient, endless, terrifying.
“Stormborn child.”
The words weren’t sound—they were weight. They landed inside my chest like an anchor. I stepped forward without choosing to. My blood moved before my brain. My feet felt pulled by rope only I could feel.
Alaric lunged to grab my arm—and Morwenna flicked one finger.
He flew backward with a choked grunt, slammed into the mast with enough force to shake the deck. He fell to one knee, breath knocked out, fury burning in his eyes.
“Don’t touch her,” Morwenna murmured.
Kaine drew his sword. “Stay back, witch.”
She looked his direction—only looked—and he collapsed gasping, choking on nothing, saltwater pouring from his lips. He clawed at the air, coughing, eyes wide with panic.
“STOP!”
The shout ripped from my throat before thinking. Water beneath us rippled—responding.
She smiled. “Good. You speak with the sea already.”
My pulse thundered. Plugged ears. Shaking fingers.
“What do you want?” I forced out.
Morwenna drifted closer. “Your future. The sword will not open for kings. Only for the sea’s daughter.”
My skin crawled. “Sea’s daughter…?”
“Saltborn,” she whispered, voice like waves slipping into cracks of a coffin. “Blood of storm. Bride of tide. You will stand where even gods drown.”
The crew murmured, horrified. Someone whispered curse. Someone else whispered queen.
Mira tried stepping forward—brave or foolish, I couldn’t tell—and immediately froze. Frost crawled up her boots, anchoring her to the deck. She gasped, wide-eyed.
Morwenna returned to me. “To claim the Leviathan Sword, you must pass the tide-blood trial alone. Sink or ascend. Die or crown.”
My mouth turned dry. “And if I refuse?”
She leaned so close I smelled sea graveyards on her breath. “Then you drown like your mother.”
It hit like a knife to the heart.
My mother. Drowned.
I tasted grief, raw and metallic.
Before I could speak, Alaric pushed himself up and staggered toward us. His face was pale—with fury and fear. Fear for me. Which only angered him more.
“She’s not ready,” he growled. “She’ll die if she goes near that sword again.”
Morwenna raised an eyebrow. “Would you rather lose her slowly? Cowardice has never saved a king.”
“I’m a better king,” he snapped.
She smiled like she knew something he didn’t. “Not yet.”
Alaric stepped between Morwenna and me—despite shaking legs—and shoved his arm out across my path like a barrier. “She isn’t doing any damned trial. Not now. Not alone.”
I pushed past him. “You don’t get to decide that.”
His stare whipped to mine—sharp, burning. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“No,” I hissed, chest tight. “You’re trying to keep control.”
“You think this is about control? Gods, Beth, half of us nearly died because you unleash magic like a storm with no anchor!”
“I saved us!”
“You killed everything in that chamber! You terrified them!”
“Did I terrify you too?” The words were bitter fire. “Or does it just bruise your ego that I might be something greater than you?”
His jaw clenched until veins stood on his neck. “You think power makes you untouchable? It makes you hunted. Silas wants you. The Navy wants you. Half the damn sea wants you. You think I don’t lie awake thinking someone will take you the second I blink?”
That stopped me. Just a moment. Something raw flickered behind his eyes—too honest to be pride. Too pained to be anything but truth.
But pride protects wounds—and we are both drowning in it.
“You care now?” I laughed—sharp, humorless. “You kiss Mira like nothing matters then come playing protector?”
His nostrils flared. “You saw that kiss and ran. You didn’t ask. You assume. Like you always do.”
“She put her mouth on you. You didn’t exactly shove her off.”
“And since when do I owe you explanations?” His voice cracked loud across the deck. “You walked away from me, remember? You left first.”
“Oh, don’t twist that!” I slammed my fist into his chest. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch. “I left because you gave me nothing. Not trust. Not honesty. Not one damned thing to hold onto.”
His voice dropped to a rough whisper no less violent. “And yet you’re still here.”
Our faces were inches apart, breaths colliding, anger thick enough to taste. Someone in the crew muttered a prayer. Someone else muttered just kiss already. Karn elbowed them silent.
But we didn’t kiss.
We stared like storms ready to destroy each other.
Morwenna spoke again, softer now—amused.
“Want is easy. Destiny is war.”
The sails suddenly filled with wind—snapping hard, pulling the ship forward. Her ghost dissolved in sea mist. Waves crashed back into motion. Crew stumbled, coughing, gasping, alive again.
But Alaric and I didn’t move.
His chest rose against mine. My tongue was dry. The world shrank to one breath between us. If he leaned, I would break. If I leaned, I might never stop.
He whispered—voice wrecked. “Beth… please.”
“Let me go,” I whispered back—not sure if I meant the trial or the hold he had over me.
His fingers slid from my wrist slowly. Painfully slow. Like letting go burned.
I turned first. Because pride demanded it. Because love terrified me more than death.
As I walked away, I felt his eyes on my back—heavy like a hand he wished he could place between my shoulder blades, stopping me.
But he didn’t.
And that choice might ruin us both.