POV: Beth
Morning breaks sharp and cold. Sun bleeds over the horizon, gilding waves in molten gold. The ship wakes with creaks, shouts, and boots stomping overhead. Rope slaps, sails unfurl, laughter booms from the deck where Kaine drills two newcomers who joined recently. Salt air fills my lungs—bracing, alive. I grip my knife, bandages still tight around my palm from last night’s memory storm.
Today I train again. Today I don’t cry.
But the sea has no interest in my resolutions.
Near noon, when Alaric disappears below deck to check maps and Kaine takes a crew to adjust foresails, I head toward the storage hold to fetch fresh water. The shadows swallow the stairs behind me, lantern light flickering weakly. It smells of rum, gunpowder, mildew—familiar enough now to be less terrifying.
I’m reaching for a barrel when a voice slithers behind me.
“Well, if it isn’t the governor’s little jewel.”
I freeze. I know that voice—Dregor, one of the newer crewmen. He’s tall, greasy hair tied back, teeth yellowed like old bone. I feel him before I turn—the thick presence of a predator who finally has no witnesses around.
He blocks the exit.
“I’ve heard the bounty on your pretty head,” he drawls. “Prince Adrian wants you alive. A chest of gold for whoever brings her in.”
My heart stops. My knife is tucked in my belt but my hands shake.
“You can’t,” I whisper.
He laughs, stepping closer. “Why not? You’re not one of us. You hate us. Might as well trade you before you slit our throats in our sleep.”
He lunges.
I move on instinct—training with Kaine, Alaric’s voice mocking me, storm wind in my blood. I duck beneath his arm, slam my shoulder into his ribs. It hurts—gods, it hurts—but adrenaline throws me forward. I yank my knife free.
He grabs my hair, yanking me back with a snarl. “Stupid girl!”
Pain floods my scalp. I twist, slash wildly. The blade cuts across his forearm—deep. Blood spills hot and fast. He screams, throwing me to the floor. My back hits wood hard, breath punched out.
He comes again, fury in his eyes.
“ENOUGH.”
The word cracks like thunder.
Alaric stands in the doorway, shadow filling the hold, eyes burning. Before Dregor can turn, Alaric moves—faster than thought. His fist breaks the man’s jaw. The second strike—a knife drawn from nowhere—drives into Dregor’s chest.
One brutal, efficient motion.
Blood splatters across crates, my cheek, Alaric’s knuckles.
Dregor gasps once, collapses.
Silence roars in the space left behind.
I tremble, knife still clenched. Alaric looks at me—sweat-slick hair, chest rising steady, eyes like deep tides. Not gentle. Not kind.
But furious.
“You were alone?” His voice is a razor.
“I was just— I needed water—”
“On a ship full of men who’d sell their own mothers?” he snaps.
Anger flares in me. “Don’t shout at me as if I’m the villain. He tried to sell me like an object!”
“And you almost let him.”
I stare, breath shaking. “You think this is my fault?”
His jaw works. He looks like he wants to say no—but pride ties his tongue. Instead:
“This world will eat you, Beth. If you don’t want to die, stop acting like prey.”
Tears sting again—but this time they burn with fury, not fear.
“I’m trying! I train, I bleed, I fight—and still none of you see me as anything but weak!”
He steps closer, towering. “Then prove otherwise.”
“I did!” I gesture to the corpse. “I cut him! I fought! When will it be enough? When I kill a man without shaking?”
“When you stop fearing your own strength.”
We stand inches apart—fire clashing with storm. His breath warm on my face, mine sharp with rage.
“For how long will I be unsafe?” I whisper. “If even your crew wants to sell me?”
Alaric’s voice lowers to a dangerous calm. “Until you are strong enough that selling you is a death sentence.”
It is the most brutal comfort I have ever heard.
He wipes his blade on Dregor’s shirt, then turns to the stairs.
“We’ll gather the crew. Dump the body. And next time? Don’t scream. Cut his throat before he opens his mouth.”
He leaves.
I stare at the blood, at the knife trembling in my hand.
I do not cry this time.
Something cold and sharp roots inside me—a new seed.
Not fear. Determination sharpened like steel. I will not be prey forever. I will become lethal.