POV: Beth
Morning never felt so sharp.
The storm had broken by dawn, leaving the cove washed clean but wrapped in a cold mist that clung to skin and mood alike. Sunlight pushed through in pale shards, gilding wet rock. The inn’s doors creaked as pirates and merchants alike spilled out, yawning, stretching, weapons visible and trust invisible.
Two crews faced each other on the narrow pier—my borrowed merchants stiff with fear, Alaric’s pirates sprawled in lazy confidence. A single misplaced spark would set the whole cove on fire.
“Morning, princess,” Alaric drawled from his position at the front, hair still damp, shirt unlaced, the kind of careless beauty that begged for a fist to the jaw.
I crossed my arms. “Don’t call me that. I’m no princess.”
Kaine snorted. “Could’ve fooled us with that attitude.”
Finn murmured, “I vote we let them fight and take bets.”
Tammers raised a hand. “I got five coins on Beth. She fights dirty now.”
Alaric shot him a look. “Traitor.”
The merchants behind me muttered nervously, glancing at the weapons on the pirates’ hips. My heart thumped—half adrenaline, half something else I refused to name.
“We’re not here to joke,” I said, projecting a voice that didn’t shake. “We’re here because the sea forced us to share this cove.”
“Funny,” Alaric said, stepping closer just enough to test my pulse. “I was thinking the same about you.”
The tension spiked—one of his men reached for his dagger, one of mine raised a musket shakily. A breath away from bloodshed.
“ENOUGH!” Kaine barked loud enough to cut through steel.
Everyone froze.
Kaine stepped forward, a heavy figure between our two factions. He looked at Alaric first. “You know what happens if we split here. Silas circling the outer currents, looking for a fight. Navy patrols watching every mainland harbor.”
Then he looked at me. “And she’s hunted. Still wet from learning to swim.”
I bristled. “I survived.”
“Barely,” he said bluntly. “And only because the sea likes you.”
Murmurs spread—some curious, some fearful.
Alaric’s gaze flicked to me, a storm behind blue eyes. “Saltblood rumor?”
“Rumor,” I snapped too fast. “Nothing more.”
He raised a brow but let it go—for now.
Finn spat to the side. “So what? We share the cove until weather clears? Then tear each other apart later?”
“Not enough.” Kaine crossed his arms. “We need supplies, sails mended, fresh water. Neither crew has enough alone. We survive together or die separately.”
The word together tasted like sand and iron in my mouth.
Alaric stepped into the space between us—close enough that I could see the faint scar across his collarbone. “So we make a deal.”
“You don’t get to set terms,” I snapped.
He smirked. “Of course not. You do. Since you’re clearly the one in charge.” His tone dripped with challenge.
I hated him.
I loved the challenge.
I lifted my chin. “Terms are simple. No stabbing, stealing, kidnapping, mutinying, poisoning, feeding people to sharks, or tossing anyone off decks.”
“That’s half my hobbies gone,” Finn muttered.
I ignored him. “We work together until supplies are secured. Then we split. No betrayal until morning seas are calm.”
“And if they’re not calm?” Alaric asked softly.
“Then we still don’t stab each other,” I said, “until we’re off the rocks.”
The crew exchanged glances—grudging, considering.
Alaric smiled, slow and wicked. “Anyone disagrees?”
One pirate opened his mouth. Alaric drew his cutlass and buried it in the pier beside his boot so fast the man flinched.
“No?” he said sweetly. “Excellent.”
I glared. “You can’t negotiate by threatening your own men.”
“I’m not threatening,” he said. “I’m demonstrating.”
The bastard.
But it worked. Even the merchants straightened slightly, comforted by his terrifying competence.
A barrel of salted fish arrived between us as gesture—opened by Kaine, who set mugs around.
A toast. A temporary truce.
Alaric lifted his mug first, eyes on me, not on the drink. “To not dying today.”
I lifted mine too. “To not killing you yet.”
The mugs clashed, not gently.
Rum burned down my throat like fire. Heat spread—warmth, anger, relief tangled.
Talk rose around us—pirates laughing, merchants loosening tension, someone tuning a sea-shanty lute. The air shifted from blade-edge to brittle camaraderie.
Still dangerous. But breathable.
As we ate fish and stale bread, I heard whispers in pockets of conversation.
“Bone sword—” “Leviathan’s rib—” “Map split three ways—” “Silas hunts it too—”
Sword. Bone. Leviathan. The words brushed my ear like prophecy. My wrist tingled under my sleeve.
I looked up and caught Alaric already watching me, expression unreadable. Not now. But soon. Very soon. Our paths weren’t diverging—they were colliding.