POV: Beth
The next morning tasted of salt and shame.
I avoided Alaric’s eyes on deck. He didn’t seek mine either. The air between us crackled like storm-charged rope—pull too hard and something would snap.
Kaine tossed me a knife. “Training.”
My grip was steadier than yesterday. My heart wasn’t.
We sparred until sweat slicked my back and breath burned lungs. A few crew members watched—not mocking now, curious. Respect was a strange weight. Heavy. Warm. Dangerous.
Then a horn blew.
A ship approached—sleek, red sails like spilled wine across horizon. The symbol carved in mast unmistakable: a scarlet serpent twisted around a dagger.
Kaine spat. “Trouble.”
Men tensed. Alaric stepped to the helm, shoulders stiffening.
“She’s back,” he muttered.
“Who?” I asked.
I regretted it immediately when she appeared.
Mira.
She strode onto her deck like the ocean existed to hold her weight. Bronze skin glowed in the sun, hair cascading in black waves, hips swaying with calculated temptation. She wore swords like jewelry—elegant, deadly. Her eyes found Alaric instantly, and something predatory lit inside them.
Her voice rang across water like bells dipped in blood.
“Miss me, Alaric?”
He didn’t answer.
Mira laughed—rich, confident—and signaled her crew. Ropes flew. In moments, the ships were lashed side-by-side.
She didn’t wait to be invited.
Mira leapt onto our deck with the grace of a blade. Crew stepped back instinctively—some in awe, some in dread. She stalked toward Alaric like a lioness claiming old territory.
“I thought prison cured your boredom,” she purred, sliding her fingers up his arm, nails grazing skin. “But here you are—alive. Convenient for me.”
He removed her hand, not gently. “State your business.”
“Oh come now,” she crooned, leaning closer. “No welcome kiss? No 'Mira, my beautiful nightmare, I dreamed of you in that cell'?”
My stomach twisted.
She didn’t just flirt—she owned space with him, like she’d been here first and I was the unwelcome intrusion.
Mira’s gaze finally landed on me—slow, assessing, amused.
“Well.” Her eyes dragged down my form like a blade. “A replacement? Smaller. Frailer. But I see why you keep her. Men enjoy projects.”
Heat exploded in my face. “I’m not kept by anyone.”
Mira blinked—then laughed, a cruel melodic sound. “Oh sweet thing. He beds anything with legs, but keeps few.”
Alaric’s jaw flexed. “Mira—”
“You’re talking about me while I’m right here,” I snapped.
She turned fully toward me, smile widening—wolf in silk.
“Of course. I like to see my competition.”
“I’m not in competition with you.”
“Hm.” Mira leaned in, voice velvet and venom. “Then why are you jealous?”
“I’m not.”
“Oh you are.” Her eyes sparkled. “You should be.”
She slid a possessive hand across Alaric’s chest. He didn’t push her away fast enough. Something vicious twisted in my stomach—a feeling I refused to name.
He finally removed her touch. “Enough, Mira. What do you want?”
“News.” She circled him slowly, voice low. “Silas grows restless. Kraken fed last week. He hunts for you.”
Alaric stiffened. So did everyone else.
“And…” Mira flicked her gaze to me again, sharp and hungry, “…he heard whispers that the saltborn bride travels at your side.”
My blood ran cold.
Mira smirked at my reaction. “You should paint your neck. Makes the fear less visible.”
I stepped forward despite myself. “You don’t frighten me.”
Her smile sharpened. “Good. Fear is a dull perfume.”
She leaned into Alaric again, lips near his ear. “You could come with me. Leave the child to drown. We were good before. We could be kings again.”
Kings.
Not queen and king.
Just Mira and Alaric.
The thought stabbed harder than her insult.
Alaric’s reply came slow, measured. “Mira… not this time.”
She stilled. Eyes flashed with something dangerous—rejection did not sit well with her.
“All this,” she whispered, flicking her fingers at me like brushing away a fly, “for her?”
His jaw tightened. A muscle jumped. He didn’t answer—and silence itself was answer enough.
Mira laughed—but no humor touched her voice now.
“You’ll regret that.”
She stepped back to the rail, gaze cutting into me one last time.
“Saltborn,” she murmured. “Try not to die before I do.”
Then she leapt back to her ship, sails unfurling like red wings. Within minutes she was gone.
I forced steady breath. Forced calm. But my hands shook.
“I don’t care about him,” I muttered.
The wind carried my lie across the deck.
Kaine’s voice behind me was low. “Funny. You say it like someone who does.”
I turned away before he could see my eyes.
Because jealousy was a new blade—and it cut deep.