POV: Beth
Morning light spilled like melted gold across the port, warming damp planks and fog-soft water. I stood beside Alaric near the marketplace, half leaning on a barrel of spices as vendors yelled prices and sailors gambled with coins they’d likely steal back later. For once, the world felt gentle. Not safe—it never was—but gentler than war.
Alaric brushed a lock of wind-tangled hair from my cheek. Just a simple gesture, nothing deep. Nothing romantic. Yet my stomach fluttered anyway, traitorously soft.
“You still look like you expect someone to stab you,” he teased.
“Because someone usually does,” I muttered back.
He huffed laughter—light, unguarded—and it was stupid how that sound warmed me more than the sun. For a moment I forgot Kraken dreams, Silas’ obsession, blood in the sea. Just him. Just us standing too close and pretending we weren’t.
And a few steps away, Mira watched.
I didn’t notice her at first—only when the hairs on my neck rose. Her eyes were fixed on us, smile sharp enough to cut silk. Beautiful. Poisonous. A rose hiding a thorn of steel. She approached with a slow sway of hips, hair braided with pearls that glimmered like shark teeth.
“Good morning, Captain,” she purred, voice dripping honey. “Beth.”
Something in the way she said my name—sweet, but meant to rot—told me everything.
Alaric straightened. “Morning.”
Mira’s gaze flicked between us like she was measuring a wound. “You two seem… close.”
A beat of silence. People moved around us—merchants yelling over fish prices, drunks stumbling past—but between the three of us the world went painfully still.
“We’re discussing supplies,” I said.
“Mm.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course.”
She touched Alaric’s arm possessively, fingers light but claiming. He tensed—subtle, but I saw it. Felt it. A small victory sparked in me, petty and warm.
Mira saw it too.
That was when something inside her cracked—not loudly, but like porcelain under too much pressure. A small fissure, invisible unless you knew where to look. And I was staring straight at it.
Her voice softened. Too soft. “Enjoy your little moment.”
Then she turned and sauntered off toward the docks, hips swaying like she owned the tide. Alaric frowned.
“What’s her problem?” he muttered.
I shrugged. “Mira doesn’t like losing.”
His eyes cut to mine. “Losing what?”
I didn’t answer. Maybe I couldn’t.
***
We returned to the ship by afternoon, arms loaded with rum, rope, fruit—supplies for celebration and survival. The crew roared when they saw us, drinks raised and weapons clashing in delight. Rum flowed. Swords were brandished in drunken bets. Kaine arm-wrestled three men at once, laughing like thunder.
Mira was nowhere.
At first no one questioned it. Ports swallow people all the time—willingly or in pieces. But evening came. Sunset painted the sky violent scarlet. Still no Mira.
Clove approached me nervous, hat crooked and smelling like gunpowder. “Beth… have you seen her?”
I scanned the deck—empty corner where she usually lingered, flirting and smiling like she was born to be adored.
“No,” I said slowly. “Why?”
He swallowed. “Her bunk’s empty. Gear gone. Almost like she—”
“Left?” Kaine finished, stepping into the lantern glow. His jaw was hard. “She took a longboat. One guard swears he saw her sailing out before dawn.”
A heavy silence fell.
Alaric’s boots hit the deck before the words left Kaine’s mouth. “She what?”
“Gone, Captain,” Kaine confirmed. “Didn’t say a word. Didn’t take coin. Just… left.”
Alaric cursed under his breath. The crew muttered anxiously—some confused, others pale.
“She wouldn’t just leave for no reason,” Clove whispered.
Kaine’s eyes found mine—grim, knowing. “She would if she had one.”
My stomach dropped. That crack I saw earlier, the jealousy, the bitterness—it wasn’t harmless. It was the beginning of betrayal.
“She’s going to Silas.” My voice felt like rust scraping bone. “Or the Navy. Whoever pays more.”
Kaine nodded once. “Aye.”
Alaric slammed a fist into railing. Wood cracked. “I knew she was too soft in the last battle. Should’ve thrown her overboard the first week.”
“Pretty smiles,” I said quietly, “You trust them too easily.”
He turned sharply, as if my words cut. Maybe they did. But instead of biting back, he looked at me with something raw—guilt? Fear? I couldn’t place it.
The crew gathered, whispering fast like hungry gulls.
“What do we do now?” Clove asked.
Alaric lifted his chin. Wounded pride simmered, but command steadied his voice. “We prepare. If she ran to Silas, war will burn harder. If she ran to the Navy, we’ll be hunted twice as much.”
Kaine spat overboard. “Either way, she’ll return—with teeth.”
I looked out over the dark ocean, waves black as obsidian. Somewhere beyond fog and horizon, Mira rowed alone—smile cracked, heart venomous. She would return with a deal, with power, with vengeance.
And I felt it deep in my bones:
This peaceful moment was the last calm we’d ever get.