POV: Beth
The attack began with a song.
Night wrapped itself around the ship, black and cold, stars sharp like teeth above us. A pale sliver of moon hanging crooked. I stood watch at the bow, cloak pulled tight, wind biting my cheeks. The air smelled wrong—too sweet, almost floral, beneath the usual salt and tar.
Then I heard it.
A melody floated over the waves. Soft at first. Sweet. A woman’s voice—or several, braided together—humming a tune that curled around my ribs and pulled.
I thought of the first time we’d crossed siren waters. Alaric had shouted orders to plug ears; I had listened and not fallen. Saltborn, they’d whispered.
“Not tonight,” I muttered, hands going to my ears.
Except… I didn’t need to.
The song slid against me like water over oil. I heard it, but it couldn’t sink in. It thrummed around my skull instead of inside it.
The same could not be said for the crew.
Behind me, boots shuffled. A sailor laughed—too soft, too dreamy. Another sighed, the sound shivering into something fragile.
I turned.
Men swayed where they stood, eyes glassy, faces tilted toward the dark water. Mouths parted in small smiles I’d never seen on them before. One dropped his rope. Another walked straight into the rail as if it wasn’t there.
“Kaine?” I called. “Do you hear that?”
He stood near the mast, grip slack on a coil of line. His head turned slowly toward the sound, expression softening in a way that didn’t belong on his scarred face.
“…so beautiful,” he murmured.
Ice slid down my spine.
“Kaine.” I moved toward him quickly, grabbing his arm. “Snap out of it.”
He blinked past me, gaze unfocused. “Can’t you hear them? Calling… me…”
He started walking. Toward the edge.
No.
I yanked his arm harder. “Stop. That’s sirens.”
“They need me.” His voice was far away.
He tore his arm from my grasp with more strength than usual and staggered toward the rail.
All around us, sailors moved like sleepwalkers. One climbed onto the rail itself. Another began untying knots as if freeing something invisible.
The song swelled—higher, clearer, painfully beautiful.
Laughter bubbled below the ship, light and cruel.
I ran to the nearest man just as he swung a leg over the rail. “No!”
His eyes were glazed, pupils blown. “She’s waiting…”
I slapped him.
Hard.
“Wake up!”
He blinked, stunned, hand flying to his cheek—then the song surged and his gaze softened again. He pushed me away with surprising force and leapt.
Straight into the dark.
He disappeared with a splash.
My stomach lurched. “ALARIC!”
No answer.
I scanned the deck; he wasn’t at the helm. The wheel spun lazily on its own. Panic clawed higher.
Shapes moved in the water—pale, sleek, too graceful to be fish. Hands—hands—gripped the lower hull. A face rose near the bow—impossibly beautiful, eyes luminous in the dark, mouth red as fresh blood. Wet hair clung to bare shoulders. When she smiled, I saw teeth that did not belong in any human mouth.
Too many. Too sharp.
She sang—and I felt the song curl around my thoughts like smoke trying to find a way in.
But it couldn’t.
Saltborn, something whispered.
She saw me.
Her smile faltered.
“There,” she hissed softly, sound threading into the melody. “The deaf one.”
Several pale heads turned toward me, eyes narrowing.
Suddenly, I wasn’t just ignored prey on this ship.
I was a threat.
“Beth!” Someone shouted faintly from below deck. Riva, maybe. Her voice broke mid-call into a sigh.
More men climbed rails. Another splash. Another.
My heart raced. Think.
I grabbed a loose rope, wrapped it around my wrist, and ran to Kaine. He’d reached the rail, one foot already atop it, eyes locked on the dark.
“KAINE!” I screamed, tugging his shoulder. “Look at me!”
He didn’t. Didn’t blink.
Fine.
I punched him.
My knuckles hit his jaw with a crack. Pain shot up my hand. He stumbled back, swearing, hand flying to his face.
“What the—”
The spell cracked in his eyes for a flickering moment. I took it.
“Sirens,” I gasped. “They’re in the water. They’re dragging men under.”
His focus snapped to the waves. His breath hitched. “Shit.”
“Help me wake them.”
We ran.
I slapped, punched, kicked, screamed. Kaine shook men, shoved them, slammed them into masts. Some woke, fighting the pull. Others slipped free and dove before we could catch them.
A pale hand shot up from the water, gripping the rail beside me. Claws dug into wood. The siren hauled herself halfway up—water cascading off shimmering scales where legs should have been. Her face was heartbreakingly perfect, even as her eyes glowed with hunger.
“So loud,” she purred, studying me. “And yet no song can fit inside you.”
She lunged.
Instinct roared faster than thought. I yanked the knife from my belt and drove it forward.
Her scream split the night.
Blade sank into her throat, just beneath that perfect jaw. Dark blood—too dark—poured over my hand, hot and slick. Her fingers clawed at me, nails raking my arm. I shoved, using every ounce of strength, pushing her back over the rail.
She fell, vanishing in a froth of blood and bubbles.
The song faltered—notes breaking, shivering. Other siren voices wavered, some turning to shrieks of rage instead of enchantment.
“YOU KILLED ONE!” Kaine shouted, somewhere between horror and awe.
I stood frozen, chest heaving, knife dripping red-black onto the deck. My heart hammered so hard my vision pulsed with it.
A head broke the surface below—another siren, eyes wild. She stared at me with hate, hissed something in a language I didn’t know, then vanished beneath the waves.
The music cut off.
Just like that.
Men all over the ship collapsed where they stood or fell hard onto the planks. The remaining enchanted ones gasped, choking on air like they’d been underwater.
The sudden silence was deafening.
Groans, coughing, confused swearing filled the space where the song had been.
Someone hauled himself up by the rail near me, shivering, eyes wide. “What… what happened?”
Kaine wiped blood from his split lip and jerked his chin toward me. “Ask her.”
Dozens of eyes turned.
At me.
At the knife in my hand. At the blood splattered across my shirt. At the empty patch of water where a siren’s body had sunk.
My throat felt dry. “They… they were going to drown you.”
No one laughed.
No one mocked.
Alaric finally appeared, climbing up from below deck—shirt half-fastened, hair damp, eyes burning. He took in the chaos, the coughing men, the gouged rail, the smear of inhuman blood.
“What did I miss?” he asked.
Kaine jerked a finger toward me again. “Your princess just killed a siren and broke their song.”
For a heartbeat, something like surprise cracked Alaric’s face.
He walked toward me slowly. Every step echoed.
I tightened my grip on the knife, refusing to look away. My hands trembled, but I didn’t hide it.
He stopped close. Not touching. Just there, sea-dark eyes searching mine.
“You didn’t jump,” he said.
“I can’t hear them like the others do,” I replied, voice hoarse. “They called me deaf.”
A small, dangerous smile ghosted his mouth. “Good. Let the sea scream.” His gaze flicked briefly to the blood staining my knife. “You saved my crew.”
“Some of them,” I whispered. Faces of men who hadn’t resurfaced floated in my mind. Guilt twisted deep.
“Some is more than none,” he said.
The crew watched—a strange, heavy silence around us. No jeers. No dismissive insults. Only recognition.
Respect.
It scared me more than their mockery ever had.
For the first time, standing on that shifting deck under a sky full of indifferent stars, I felt it crack through my bones:
I belonged here.
Not as prisoner.
Not as governor’s daughter.
As something new.
Saltborn.
Dangerous.
And the sea, somewhere in the dark, seemed to hum in approval.