POV: Beth
Smoke stung my eyes as I stepped forward, the Leviathan Bone Sword cold and alive in my grip. Every inch of the deck trembled under cannon roars, every scream another piece of me splitting open. Alaric lay behind me somewhere—breathing or dead, I couldn’t check. Karn sobbed over Clove’s body. Pirates fled like scattered gulls. And there, in polished armor drenched in blood that wasn’t his, stood Adrian.
Prince of England. My former dream. My executioner in another life.
He smiled. Not kindly—never kindly. “Run back to your pirate king, Elizabeth. Before I put you in chains like your father.”
A tremor rattled from my heart to my fingertips. “My name is Beth.” The sword hummed. “And I don’t run anymore.”
Gasps. Silence. The whole world tightened its throat around us. Adrian lifted his blade—elegant steel, noble, gleaming with arrogance.
“So the sea has filled you with delusions,” he said, stepping close enough for me to smell the lavender oil he always wore at court. Back then I loved that scent. Now it made my stomach twist. “You could have been my wife. A queen. Instead you chose filth.”
I lunged.
No warning. No grace. I swung like a starving animal and he barely blocked, metal screeching with the force. My shoulder burned as he shoved me backward. I stumbled, feet slipping on blood-slick planks, but I didn’t fall. I breathed through my teeth.
“You destroyed my family,” I growled, circling him. “You tortured Rowan. You threw the man who raised me into a dungeon like an animal.”
His expression barely twitched. “He was a criminal. And so are you now.”
He struck fast—blade like lightning. I parried, sparks flying. Pain shot up my wrist. He moved with elite training, perfect posture, royal precision. I had fury. Fury was not enough. But I made it enough.
I slashed low. He dodged. I feinted high—then elbowed him hard in the jaw. He staggered, shocked I dared fight dirty. I spat blood from my lip and smiled.
“I’m not your court puppet anymore,” I hissed. “I’m pirate.”
His face cracked, rage flooding it. “Disgusting.”
He lunged. I dodged, but not fast enough—his blade tore across my ribs. My scream ripped raw from my throat. Hot blood soaked my shirt. I gripped the sword harder.
“You wanted me docile,” I gasped through pain. “Silent. Pretty.”
He swung again. I blocked—barely. Arms shaking. He pushed down and down until my knees hit the deck.
“And you would have been,” he whispered near my ear, “if you had known your place.”
I headbutted him.
Skull to skull. Sharp, cracking pain. He reeled back stunned. I jumped up, shoved him across the deck, teeth gritted. My vision blurred red. He regained stance, furious, royal temper blazing.
“You’ll regret that,” he promised.
“Make me.”
He charged. We collided blade-to-blade, faces inches apart, breath hot and rancid with hate. His sword sliced my shoulder. I ignored it. I slammed my knee into his thigh. He cursed and punched me across the mouth. Stars exploded behind my eyes. I staggered, spit blood, laughed like I was already a ghost.
“Is that all a crown teaches?” I taunted, wiping my mouth. “Pretty words and easy violence?”
He snarled and attacked again. Harder. Faster. My muscles screamed. Our blades clashed like thunder. I ducked, rolled, came up swinging. The Bone Sword pulsed—alive, hungry. It wanted blood. It wanted command. It wanted me.
Adrian knocked it from my grip.
It skidded across the deck, clanging into splinters. My heart dropped. He lunged, tackling me to the boards. His weight crushed my lungs. My head slammed against wood. Pain flashed white. His hand closed around my throat.
“Yield,” he commanded softly, too softly. “And I’ll spare you.”
My vision blurred—but I saw Rowan’s broken hands. Alaric bleeding in the sand. Clove dying with Karn screaming beside him. My mother crying in that dream. Silas’s obsession. Mira’s betrayal. A lifetime of weakness.
“No,” I wheezed.
I clawed at him, nails tearing skin. He tightened grip. Spots danced. I reached blindly, fingers brushing splintered deck—nothing useful. My lungs burned like drowning. My voice cracked.
“You… will never… own me.”
His eyes hardened. “Then die, pirate.”
Rage snapped something loose inside me.
I surged upward, using the last of my strength. Bit into his hand. Hard. He screamed, grip breaking. I rolled, coughing, throat raw. He swung his sword again—wild now, emotion ruining his technique. I grabbed a broken plank and shoved it under his blade’s arc, blocking just enough to survive.
We grappled. Fists. Nails. Teeth. Kings do not fight like this. Pirates do. I dragged him down by his hair, slammed his head to the deck, but he flipped us, pinning me again. His sword lifted for the killing thrust.
I reached out.
Not for him. Not for the sword. For the sea. Something deep answered.
Tide in my bones. Salt in my blood. The ocean roared in my veins like thunder cracking ribcage. My fingers stretched toward the water below, not touching—commanding. Begging. Calling.
A voice inside me, mine yet not mine, whispered: Call him.
My lips moved without thought.
“Kraken.”
The world stopped.
Waves froze mid-crash. Wind held its breath. Every scream choked silent. Adrian turned slowly, horror hollowing his face. The sea behind him bulged outward like something titanic pushed up from beneath.
And then—a shadow larger than ships combined rose from the deep.
Tentacles surfaced first—black, dripping, towering over the burning fleet. One massive eye opened, the color of dead storms, and it turned toward me. Directly. Recognizing.
Adrian’s blade trembled.
“Impossible,” he breathed.
I pushed myself up on shaking elbows, blood in my teeth, vision tunnelled. I met the eye. Not as princess. Not as prisoner. As something new. Something feared.
“Kraken.” My voice cracked like breaking waves. “I call you.”