POV: Beth
The tavern was quieter when I slipped inside again, though I couldn’t tell if the storm muted it or if I’d gone temporarily deaf from crying. My boots squelched with each step. Water dripped down my sleeves and off my hair, leaving small puddles on the wood. No one looked at me. No one cared.
Except him.
Silas sat at a table near the back, candle flame carving his face in gold and shadow. As if he’d been waiting.
Of course he had.
“You look like the sea chewed you up,” he said, voice calm as ever.
“Maybe it did,” I whispered.
He gestured to the empty seat across from him. “Sit.”
I hesitated, then sat—because I was tired, because my legs barely held me, because I needed answers even if they hurt.
Silas pushed a warm cloak across the table. “You’ll freeze if you stay like that.”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
He arched a brow. “Drowning girls always say that.”
The cloak was soft wool, far too fine for common sailors. I wrapped it around myself before pride could protest. My fingers shook. Silas noticed every tremor.
“What did the old dogs tell you?” he asked.
I swallowed. “They said my mother loved a pirate. That I carry Saltblood. That I’m… marked.”
“Truth rarely arrives gently,” he murmured. “Saltblood is a lineage older than kingdoms. Born of sea oath and storm.” He leaned closer, candlelight reflecting in his eyes. “It means your blood listens to the ocean. And the ocean listens back.”
My throat tightened. “I don’t want it.”
He smiled—not mocking, but knowing. “Want is irrelevant. Fire doesn’t ask if a girl wants to burn.”
The words crawled under my skin. I looked away, voice unsteady. “I just wanted a normal life.”
“A prince’s hand? A quiet garden?” His tone wasn’t cruel—just factual. “That door closed the moment the tide marked you.”
I closed my eyes. For a moment, I let myself feel it—the weight of what was gone. My father’s warm hand. Rowan calling me little dove. Silks rustling. Bells ringing. All shattered.
“I can’t fix your past,” Silas said softly, as if reading the grief in my face. “But I can shape your future.”
I opened my eyes. “How?”
He folded his hands, calm as a storm’s eye. “Join me. Stand by my side. I’ll help you find your father. I’ll tear down the prison walls if needed.”
My heart stumbled. “Why?”
“Because you are a force in the making, Beth.” He spoke with unnerving certainty. “Because Alaric sees you as chaos, but I see you as catalyst. And because when the sea chooses a queen, it leaves signs. A mark. A Kraken’s attention. A storm answering your voice.”
I shivered. “I don’t want a crown.”
“Then perhaps you want revenge,” he said. “Or power. Or answers.”
Rain hammered the roof. Candlelight flickered.
Silas lowered his voice. “Three months until Rowan hangs. Adrian won’t show mercy. Will you wait for hope to come, or will you become the knife that cuts the rope?”
I looked at him—and the world shifted.
This wasn’t like Alaric’s fire. Alaric burned hot and reckless, pulling you into chaos with laughter and sharp teeth. Silas was cold lightning—controlled, calculating, dangerous in stillness.
Standing near Alaric felt like standing too close to a storm. Sitting across from Silas felt like being inside one.
He reached across the table, slow enough that I could push him away. I didn’t. His fingers brushed my wrist near the brand. Gentle. Intimate. Wrong.
Heat shot through me at the contact—not desire, but recognition. Like something under my skin humming.
“You carry ocean in your veins,” he murmured. “Don’t waste it wiping tables.”
I pulled my hand back, breath shaky. “I’m not yours to shape.”
“No,” he agreed. “You are your own to become.”
Lightning flashed through the window, illuminating us in white. For a moment, his eyes looked almost soft.
“One day soon,” he continued, “you’ll face a door no one can open. And you’ll think of this night. And you’ll realize you need me.”
“And then?” I asked.
“You’ll come,” he said simply. “You’ll say yes. And the world will change.”
Silence wrapped us.
My heart warred with itself. Part of me hated him—hated his certainty, his calm, his ability to peel me open with a sentence. But another part…
Another part wanted what he offered. Not him. Power. Choice. Fire.
I took a slow breath and forced my voice steady. “I won’t join you.”
His mouth curved—not disappointed, just patient. “Not today.”
“I won’t owe you.”
“Everyone owes someone,” he said. “Even kings.”
I swallowed. “I’m leaving.”
He sat back, unbothered. “Then go. But don’t think silence frees you from destiny. The sea remembers its daughters.”
Thunder cracked overhead, shaking the walls. Candlelight wavered between us.
I stood and let the cloak fall across my shoulders like a mantle.
At the door, his voice followed me like a hook sinking deep.
“When the time comes and you’re tired of surviving…” His gaze held mine, unwavering. “Come to me, Beth. Not as slave or ally. But as something greater.”
I stepped out into the rain without answering.
But his words echoed with every heartbeat.
You’ll come back when you’re ready to rule.
And the terrifying part was…
A piece of me wanted to.