POV: Beth
Morning arrived not in gold, but in iron. The kind of dawn that tasted like war.
I woke tangled in warm sheets and Alaric’s scent—smoke, salt, steel, something I was beginning to crave more than I cared to admit. His arm draped heavy across my waist. For a few breaths, we weren’t pirates or fugitives or cursed lovers destined to tear oceans apart. We were simply two people who finally stopped running from the truth.
Then cheers exploded outside the tavern, loud enough to shake windows.
Reality returned like cold water.
Alaric stirred beside me, eyes opening slowly—those storm-dark eyes that once only mocked now held something else. Something terrifying. Something gentle.
He didn’t kiss me. Didn’t speak. He only reached out, brushed his thumb over my cheekbone like he was memorizing it.
And then he let go.
We dressed without words—fast, focused, armor over vulnerability. My clothes felt different now. Less costume, more skin. I strapped my sword to my hip, fingers lingering at the hilt. The Leviathan bone blade shimmered faint blue in the dim light, pulsing like a second heartbeat. Mine.
When we stepped outside, the port roared.
Pirates filled the docks—hundreds of them—from every corner of the sea. Ships with torn sails and bloodstained flags, ships with golden figureheads and dark hulls like coffins. Tattoos and scars glinted under sunlight. Rum bottles passed from hand to hand. Shouts, laughter, curses. The air trembled with wild anticipation.
A war-calling.
A coronation.
A reckoning.
Kaine spotted us first. “Look who crawled out after sunrise,” he called, smirk sharp as broken glass. His gaze flicked between me and Alaric—at the closeness we didn’t try to hide. His eyebrows rose. “Well. About damn time.”
The crew around him laughed, shifting energy—less suspicion, more belonging. Alaric’s hand rested at the small of my back, subtle but unmistakable. A claiming without words. My pulse stuttered.
Clove whistled. “So the Captain has finally stopped pretending he doesn’t have a heart. We’ll write songs about it.”
Alaric rolled his eyes, but I felt the ghost of a smile tugging his mouth.
We moved through the crowd and something shocking happened—pirates stepped aside. Not because of him alone…
But because of us.
Whispers rippled.
“Storm Bride…”
“Saltborn…”
“The girl with the Leviathan blade…”
“She tamed the Kraken. I heard she drowned a ship with a whisper.”
Rumors grew like fever.
Fear. Reverence. Hope.
I didn’t know which one terrifed me more.
At the pier’s edge lay the flagship—black sails stitched with bone-white markings, hull patched from battles we’d bled through, cannons gleaming like wolves’ teeth. Alaric’s ship. The throne of the sea.
We climbed aboard. Wind tugged my hair, salt bit my lips. The ocean stretched endless before us—glittering and merciless.
Alaric stepped forward to the upper deck, voice carrying with a power that made every pirate still.
“Ships of the Black Tide!” he called. Silence slammed down. “For years, kings and crowns tried to leash us. They burned ports, hanged brothers, stole our seas. But no more.”
A roar rose.
He paced the deck like a storm in human form. “Silas falls. The British prince falls. And we take back what’s ours—with blood, bone, and blade!”
Every sword shot upward. Every throat screamed approval. The sound rattled my spine.
Then—he reached for me.
His hand extended openly, publicly, calling me to stand beside him.
I stepped up. The Leviathan sword hummed with approval, blue-white light rippling like captured lightning. Gasps followed.
Alaric’s voice dropped so only I heard.
“You don’t have to stand with me, Beth. You could have a quiet life somewhere on land. Far from this. Far from war. Far from me.”
My heart twisted. He meant it. He’d let me go if I asked.
But I looked at the horizon—at the kingdom that tortured my father, at Rowan in chains counting days until rope met throat, at the Prince drinking wine in a marble hall thinking he’d broken me.
Fire spread through my veins like dawn turning to warpaint.
“No quiet life,” I whispered. “Not without justice.”
Something unspoken passed between us—a vow without ceremony.
He nodded, voice rough. “Then we burn a kingdom together.”
The fleets began to move—ships aligning behind ours, sails catching wind like wings. Black flags raised, one by one—tattooed skulls, shark jaws, red siren sigils. Hundreds.
United.
Fear and thrill tangled in my blood until I could barely breathe.
That night, the docks became sacred ground.
Pirates feasted around bonfires, swapping tales of slaughter and treasure. Men sang drunken shanties, women arm-wrestled and bet knives. The sea reflected flames like molten gold. Somewhere, someone played a broken fiddle and people danced with dirks in their boots.
Alaric and I slipped away to the quiet edge of the ship—wood creaking beneath our feet, moon painting silver across water. The world felt suspended—breath before storm.
We stood side by side, forearms touching, gazes fixed on the horizon where England waited like a beast.
“You’re too calm,” I murmured.
“I’m not calm,” he replied. “I’m angry. Focused. Ready.”
“And afraid?”
His smile wasn’t cruel this time. Just honest. “Terrified.”
I exhaled shakily. “Me too.”
Wind tangled my hair. Waves beat like war drums. His fingers brushed mine. Not a grab—a question.
I answered by intertwining them with his.
We didn’t speak of love. Didn’t promise forever. Didn’t swear loyalty in flowery words.
We stood hand in hand, swords at our backs, an army at our heels.
Preparing to break a kingdom.
All or nothing. Win or die. Storm Bride and Pirate King.
Tomorrow we sail for England—Rowan’s final days ticking like fuse to powder.
And I, who once dreamed of ballrooms and rose gardens, now dreamed only of fire, rope snapping, crowns falling.
Of reuniting with my father or avenging him. No middle ground. No turning back.