POV: Beth
Morning began with the slap of a bucket hitting wood inches from my face.
“Up,” Kaine’s voice snapped like a whip. “Training. Now.”
No gentle waking. No kindness in this world. I pushed myself up from the stiff rope hammock, bones aching as though I were stitched from bruises instead of flesh. My hands trembled when I reached for the knife strapped to my belt—light, sharp, terrifying. I still hadn’t gotten used to the weight of it.
The deck smelled of salt, rum-soaked wood, and old blood. Crewmen moved around us like circling sharks, glancing my way with amusement. Entertainment for the morning—watch the governor’s daughter break.
Kaine tossed me a second blade, heavier. “Dual wield today.”
I almost laughed. Or cried. I wasn’t sure which. “I barely manage one.”
He grinned with too many teeth. “Good. Struggle builds strength.”
Alaric leaned against the mainmast, one boot propped casually, arms crossed, watching. No smirk. No taunting yet. Just silence—unnerving silence.
Kaine lunged first.
Steel clanged against mine and nearly knocked it from my grip. I staggered, caught myself, and parried the next blow by pure luck. The third cut my sleeve, grazing skin. Fourth hit my thigh, not deep but enough to sting. Kaine moved like a storm—relentless, uncaring if lightning struck flesh.
“You’re slow,” he barked. “Faster.”
He swung again. I dodged late—fell to one knee. My palms burned as the deck scraped them open. Someone laughed behind me.
I forced myself up. “Again.”
Kaine didn’t hesitate. Metal flashed. I blocked one strike—felt the victory for a heartbeat before pain ripped across my forearm as his knife sliced deep. My breath hitched, vision blurring. Blood dripped quick and warm, painting my skin red.
Everything inside screamed stop.
Instead I lifted my blades.
Our knives met again and again. Every movement was agony. But beneath agony lived rage. And beneath rage—something darker. Something waking inside me.
A wave smashed the hull and the ship lurched. My foot slipped—Kaine slammed his arm into my chest, shoving me backward. The world tilted. Rail pressed against my spine. One more push and the sea would take me.
Alaric moved a step forward—but did not reach.
He waited.
He wanted to know if I would drown or decide not to.
I gasped, fingers clawing the rail, wind tearing hair from my braid. Below, waves writhed like hungry beasts.
“Fall,” Kaine taunted. “Or fight.”
My legs shook. Fear tasted like metal in my throat—but shame burned hotter.
I shoved off the rail and lunged forward with a hoarse cry. My blade grazed Kaine’s chest—shallow, but real. His grin flickered, surprised.
“That’s it,” he said with a dark spark in his eyes. “Again.”
By the time he called stop, my lungs were raw, my arms shaking violently. Sweat stung my eyes. Blood soaked the bandages at my wrist anew. My body begged to collapse—but I stayed standing.
Alaric drifted closer, slow and deliberate.
“You didn’t scream,” he murmured.
“I wanted to.”
“But you didn’t.”
He circled me like a predator evaluating prey that suddenly bit back. “You learn.”
“I bleed,” I corrected.
He smiled—barely, subtly. “Same thing here.”
Crewmen muttered among themselves—less laughter now. One even nodded at me as he passed. Small, grudging respect. It felt more valuable than jewels.
Kaine slapped my back hard enough to nearly knock me overboard again. “Tomorrow, swords.”
My face paled. “Tomorrow—?”
“Yes,” he said, already walking off. “If you’re alive.”
I sank to sit on the deck, breath shaking. My hands trembled when I tried to peel off blood-soaked bandages. The ocean shimmered endlessly, horizon sharp and blue. I was exhausted. Broken. But alive.
Alaric’s shadow fell over me.
“You’re changing,” he said.
I didn’t look at him. “Into what?”
He crouched to my height, resting forearms on his knees. His voice lowered, almost unreadable.
“Something dangerous.”
Something in my chest fluttered—pride? Fear? Both?
I met his gaze. “Good.”
His eyes darkened, unreadable—admiration or warning, I couldn’t tell.
“Don’t die before you prove it,” he said, turning away.
I watched him walk across the deck, wind tugging at his coat like it worshipped him. And for the first time since fleeing my wedding, since losing everything—
I felt a spark of want.
Not for him. For power.