POV: Beth
The storm died by morning—but something inside me did not. I woke on the cold sand, clothes stiff with salt, mind vibrating with the memory of standing on water. My legs ached, lungs burned, but fear had changed shape inside me. No longer paralyzing.
Sharper. Like a blade.
I spent half the day hiding along docks, watching sailors load crates, listening. I needed a ship. Rowan’s execution date loomed like a noose tightening around my ribs. Silas wanted something from me. Alaric had left me.
No—I had left him. My choice. My pride.
So why did it hurt like betrayal?
By afternoon I spotted a merchant vessel prepping to depart—crew distracted, arguing over cargo paperwork. Their captain yelled something about missing spices. I recognized opportunity the way Alaric would.
“Get on board when backs turn. No hesitation.” His voice echoed in my mind, smug as always.
I exhaled. Then moved.
I slipped between crates, quiet on bare feet, heart pounding. When a sailor turned, I pressed into shadow. When one walked too close, I ducked under tarps. For thirty agonizing minutes I crawled through coils of rope, splinters digging into my palms.
Then—the ship lurched.
We were leaving port.
Wind snapped against sails, ocean scent filling my lungs. I peeked out—land shrinking behind us. My heart squeezed painfully.
Goodbye, shore. Goodbye, safety—if I ever had it.
I found an empty supply room, stealing bread like a rat. It tasted like freedom. Or desperation. Maybe both.
Night fell slow. Waves softer, sky calmer than the chaos of yesterday. Lantern light swung, painting the room gold and shadow. I sat with knees hugged to chest, staring at the black window and the endless horizon beyond.
So much had changed.
Adrian’s ring would’ve been on my hand right now if life stayed as planned. I would’ve been queen one day—smiling, blind, naive. Instead I hid on stolen ship, dirt under my nails, blood on my conscience, salt in my veins.
My voice cracked with a laugh—bitter, shaky.
“I would’ve made a terrible princess.”
The sea wind answered, cool against my cheek like a whisper.
My mind spiraled—uninvited names circling like sharks.
Rowan, broken in a cell. Adrian with a sword dripping arrogance. Silas calling me queen with honey venom. Mira’s red lips smirking as if I’m nothing. Kaine telling me to stop crying and be a man. Finn and Tammers laughing over rum barrels. The crew whispering mutiny near my back. And Alaric.
Damn Alaric.
Loud, infuriating, smug, infuriating again. Tattoos like stories I don’t know. Smile like threat and joke at once. He taught me cruelty. He taught me to row when storms break bones. He laughed when I bled in training. He didn’t chase me when I left.
Should he have?
I pressed a hand over my chest—heartbeat uneven.
“What if he never cared at all?”
“What if I was just burden?”
“What if I never mattered?”
Saltwater tears stung. Only few—but they burned, not from sadness, but anger. I wiped them roughly.
“I’ll matter. With or without him.”
A creak. Footsteps on deck. Crew voices overhead. I stayed silent, breathing slow to remain unseen. Days of surviving alone sharpened instincts.
I waited until night turned thick. Then snuck out onto deck.
Moon painted silver on waves. Sails billowed full. Ocean spread like endless black mirror.
And something inside me stretched toward it.
Saltblood.
I leaned over the railing, whisper soft. “Did you save me… or claim me?”
Waves rose gently, touching wood like answer. My breath trembled.
Power. Fear. Destiny.
I was done being runaway girl.
I was going back to sea—not as Beth the bride.
As Beth the outcast now. Maybe even a pirate. I wouldn't know.