POV: Beth
The silence between us was loud enough to choke on.
Rain pattered on the deck, softer here in the cove but still steady. The merchant crew huddled behind me, eyes wide, while Alaric’s men lounged behind him with the casual alertness of wolves circling a wounded deer.
He looked tired.
That was the first thing I noticed, though I tried not to. There were new lines at the corners of his eyes, darker shadows beneath them. A scar on his forearm I didn’t remember, pale against the ink. His hair was a little longer, curlier from the rain, and his shirt had three buttons undone like he’d been too lazy to fix them or too drunk to care.
He still held himself like the sea itself had anointed him king.
“So the princess returns,” he said finally, breaking the silence with that infuriating drawl. “Did the land grow bored of you already?”
I laughed. It sounded wrong even to my own ears—too sharp, too brittle. “Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t come back to you. I came back to the only thing that doesn’t lie.”
He arched a brow. “The sea lies more than any man I’ve ever met. It just does it prettier.”
“Still more honest than you,” I snapped.
Kaine made a low sound behind him. Finn muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t catch. Tammers, perched on a coil of rope, leaned forward like he was watching a play.
Alaric’s gaze flicked over me slowly, lingering on the merchant symbol on my borrowed coat. “So. Stowing away on merchant ships now. Killing bounty hunters in alleys. Running from the prince.” His mouth curled. “Look at you, Beth. You almost look like you belong out here.”
Almost.
The word stung more than it should.
“At least I kept moving,” I shot back. “You’re the one hiding in coves, chasing myths.”
His eyes chilled a fraction. “You heard about the sword.”
“Everyone hears,” I said. “You’re loud enough.”
“Good.” He crossed his arms, muscles flexing under wet fabric. “Let them know the Black Tide is coming for his crown back. Saves me time introducing myself.”
It shouldn’t have hurt. But the words cut anyway.
“So you had time to chase legends,” I said quietly. “Just not enough to look for the girl who helped you escape a dungeon.”
The sentence hung there, heavy and sharp.
Something flickered in his face. Guilt? Or did I imagine it?
“I didn’t need a girl who walked away,” he replied, voice flat. “You made your choice.”
“And you made yours,” I shot back. “You made it very clear I was a burden you didn’t want.”
“I never said—”
“No?” I interrupted. “You called me weak. Dead weight. Spoiled. You laughed every time I bled. When I finally left, you didn’t chase. You probably celebrated.”
His jaw clenched. “That’s what you think of me?”
“What else am I supposed to think?” My voice rose despite myself. “I nearly died on land a dozen times while you were off drinking and chasing stories. Do you know what it’s like to wake up every day wondering if the prince’s dogs are sniffing your door?”
“I know more about being hunted than you ever will,” he snapped.
“Oh, right,” I said bitterly. “Poor Alaric, King of Pirates, who chose this life and then got upset when it had consequences.”
Kaine shifted uncomfortably. Finn looked away. Tammers stared at his boots. The merchant crew behind me whispered nervously.
Alaric stepped closer, rain beading on his lashes. “You think I chose being dragged in chains to that dungeon? You think I enjoyed listening to your sobbing through stone?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, sarcasm slicing. “Was my fear inconvenient for your Majesty?”
“You were never inconvenient,” he snapped, then froze.
We stared at each other.
I felt the words hit me like a wave. My chest tightened.
“Really?” I asked softly. “Because you treated me like I was.”
His throat worked. For one moment, the mask slipped; I saw something raw, something that hurt. Then he slammed the door shut on it.
“You wanted out,” he said, voice cooling to steel. “You got out. That’s the end of it.”
“No,” I whispered. “That’s the beginning of it.”
He scoffed. “Oh, here we go. Noble speeches from the girl who thought marrying a prince would fix all her problems.”
“At least the prince pretended to care about my father,” I shot back. “You just pretended I didn’t exist.”
The words came out harsher than I meant. Truer than I wanted.
“You want me to say I went looking for you?” he demanded, volume rising. “Fine. I asked at ports. I punched three idiots who said you were probably dead in a gutter. I almost threw Kaine overboard when he told me you’d either figure it out or die trying. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Kaine grunted. “You did try,” he muttered. “In your own… loud… way.”
I blinked.
“You… looked?” I rasped.
Alaric’s lips twisted. “Don’t sound so surprised. I didn’t want my favorite headache to get herself killed by the first petty thug with a knife.”
Heat rushed to my face. “So that’s all I was? A headache?”
“A loud one,” he said.
“You’re unbelievable,” I breathed.
“And you’re still alive,” he said. “So clearly, you learned something while you were sulking on land.”
I stepped forward, closing the last of the distance between us until our chests were almost touching. I could see the raindrops on his eyelashes, the pulse at his throat, the tension in his jaw. His scent hit me—salt, rum, steel, something sharp and bitter underneath.
“You don’t get to talk about what I learned,” I hissed. “You weren’t there.”
“You weren’t here,” he threw back. “When mutiny nearly gutted this ship. When Silas sent storms heavier than this to test my hull. When Mira tried to slit my throat in my sleep.”
The name Mira made my stomach drop.
“She tried to—”
“It’s fine,” he cut in. “I woke up. She’s missing one knife now.”
“You still sail with her?”
“Sometimes.” His mouth twitched. “When I feel like being stabbed in the back and front.”
The idea of Mira still on his ship twisted something ugly in me. Jealousy—bitter and hot. I hated it. I hated that it was there at all.
“So you lost control,” I said. “Surprise. You always pretended you had more than you did.”
“And you gained some,” he said, gaze flicking to my hands, the knife at my belt. “You killed someone, didn’t you?”
My breath caught.
“How—”
“It’s in your eyes,” he said quietly. “You stopped looking like prey.”
The words should have felt like a compliment. Instead, they felt like confession.
“I did what I had to do,” I said stiffly.
“Good,” he replied. “You won’t survive what’s coming if you don’t.”
I wanted to scream. To hit him. To drag him closer and shake him until something gave. Instead, I stood there, rain dripping off my nose, fury and hurt boiling in my chest.
“So what now?” I demanded. “You gloat? Raid this ship? Throw me in a cell yourself for leaving your precious crew?”
He looked at me like I was the stupid one. “What now is we don’t die in this gods-cursed cove. There’s a storm outside trying to eat us. The prince’s navy sniffing around every port. Silas circling with a monster on a leash. And you… apparently shouting at me instead of figuring out how not to drown.”
“We’re doing fine without you,” came a dry voice.
Kaine stepped forward then, finally revealing his face. He looked older too—more grey at his temples, a thin new scar along his jaw. His gaze slid from me to the merchant crew and back.
“Barely,” Alaric muttered.
Kaine ignored him, looking straight at me. “You two done scratching each other’s throats yet, or do you want to continue until the storm eats both ships for breakfast?”
Alaric bristled. “We were—”
“Being idiots,” Kaine said flatly. “As usual.”
The Black Tide crew snickered quietly. Even Finn hid a grin.
Kaine jerked his chin toward the cliffs. “We have limited time before the tide shifts. We need fresh water, food, and a plan. The cove leads to a small hidden dock inside the rock there.” He pointed toward a barely visible opening where the cliff face dipped. “We can get both crews under cover, patch what needs patching, and not freeze to death on deck while you two work out who abandoned who more dramatically.”
“I didn’t—” I started.
“You both did,” Kaine said. “He let you go. You ran. Congratulations. You’re both cowards in different directions.”
My mouth snapped shut.
Alaric glared. “Watch it.”
“I am watching.” Kaine’s eyes were flint. “I watched you both nearly get killed a dozen times because you’d rather be right than alive. I’m too old to babysit your pride in a storm.”
The words landed like slaps. The crew fell quiet, listening.
Kaine sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Here’s what’s happening. We use this truce the storm gave us. We dock at the inner port, we share the space, we don’t stab each other for at least one night. Then, if you still want to tear each other’s throats out in the morning, I’ll sell tickets.”
Finn snorted. “I’d pay to see that.”
I crossed my arms. “I don’t need his help.”
“Good,” Kaine said. “You need shelter.”
Alaric didn’t look at me this time. He looked past me, toward the storm beyond the cove. His jaw worked.
“We dock inside,” he said slowly. “We fix what we can. We don’t touch each other’s throats or cargo until dawn.”
He finally met my gaze again. The coldness was still there, but so was something else. Reluctant calculation. Reluctant… respect?
“What do you say, princess?” he asked. “Call a ceasefire. For the night.”
I hated him.
I hated the way my heart leapt at the idea of not being alone on this sea anymore. I hated the way his presence made me feel more anchored and more unsteady at the same time.
But I hated Adrian more.
I hated Silas’s patient smile more.
I hated helplessness most of all.
“Fine,” I said, voice low. “One night. We survive. Then I decide if I still hate you in the morning.”
His mouth curved. “You will.”
“Probably,” I agreed.
Kaine exhaled like he’d just wrestled two storms into one bottle. “Good. Everybody move. Storm’s not going to wait for you to finish flirting.”
“We’re not—” Alaric and I snapped at the same time, then glared at each other.
The crew laughed, tension cracking just enough for everyone to breathe.
No running. No embrace. No forgiveness.
Just a fragile truce in a hidden cove, with rage still simmering under our skin. Enemies, reunited and forced to survive side by side. For now.