POV: Beth
Wind tears at my coat as I stand between them on Silas’s deck. The sea below ripples with something alive and watching. Both crews stare—Bone Fleet silent as statues, Alaric’s men anxious and restless behind him.
Silas stands at my right, poised like a crown carved of ice. Alaric stands left, fury wearing his smile like armor.
My voice feels small in my throat. “Why do you want me?”
Silas speaks first, stepping forward slow like a tide. “Because you are legend awakening. I would rather stand beside the storm than drown beneath it. Come with me—I’ll show you who you are.”
My chest tightens.
Alaric barks a laugh—sharp and cruel to hide the fracture inside. “Show her? You want to chain her like you chained the kraken.”
Silas’s gaze flickers. “I freed it.”
“You control it,” Alaric snaps. “There’s no difference.”
Silas turns back to me, voice velvet. “Sail with me. Learn your magic. Save your father with certainty, not hope.”
He offers me a hand again—open palm, the promise of answers.
Then Alaric steps closer—too close—eyes burning like wildfire.
“I can’t promise crowns or prophecies,” he says, tone mocking but voice low with something trembling beneath. “But I can promise the fight. The sea. The revenge you want. You leave with him, you’ll drown in silk. You stay with me…”
His gaze holds mine like an anchor.
“You’ll burn your enemies yourself.”
My lips part.
Silas tilts his head. “Listen to him—he offers danger, chaos, and pride. He offers nothing.”
Alaric smirks razor-sharp. “Better than offering a cage made of gold.”
Silas’s jaw flexes—tiny crack in perfect control.
My heart races between them. One offering knowledge and destiny. One offering war and storm. Both hungry in different ways. I feel torn apart.
“Beth,” Silas says softly, and his voice hits something wounded inside me. “I can tell you who your father was. I know his name.”
Everything in me stops breathing.
I whisper, “Who?”
His lips curve. “Say yes. Sail with me. And I’ll tell you.”
Alaric steps forward instantly, fury flashing deep and dark. “You’re blackmailing her with truth.”
Silas’s eyes hold mine like a mirror to everything I crave. “I’m offering her what she deserves.”
Alaric spits out a laugh. “You’re afraid of her. You want her on your side because if she isn’t—she’s the one thing that could ruin you.”
Silas’s silence confirms it.
He is afraid of me.
A tremor runs through me. Power. Choice. It’s mine.
My voice comes shaky. “If I go with you…”
Silas waits—patient as death.
“And if I stay with you…” I face Alaric now.
His smirk fades, leaving something raw and unguarded. “You’ll fight. You’ll bleed. You’ll curse the day you chose me. But you’ll become something no one can cage.”
“And Rowan?” I ask, breath breaking. “Who helps me save him?”
Silas whispers, “I can.”
Alaric growls, “I will.”
It breaks something inside me.
My hand rises—slightly—toward Silas.
Gasps echo behind me. Alaric’s mask cracks for real—pain flickering like lightning. He hides it with a laugh too sharp to be real.
“Oh? Running to the first man who offers you a shiny story? Predictable.”
My hand shakes harder.
I want truth. I want power. I want my father back. Silas can give me answers now—clean and easy. Alaric is war, frustration, everything that hurts.
And yet—
My fingers stop inches from Silas’s.
I feel Alaric’s stare like heat across my skin.
Silas leans in slightly. “Beth. Choose.”
I almost do.
Almost.
My voice comes out raw. “I—I need time.”
Silas studies me for a long still moment. Not angry. Not disappointed. Simply… calculating. Then he nods once.
“Very well. My fleet will shadow your course.” His smile is slow. “Think of your hunger. When it outweighs your fear… you will find me.”
He steps back. The tension uncoils like a bowstring released. Alaric grabs my wrist sharply, dragging me toward the plank.
“Parley’s finished.”
As he pulls me onto our ship, I look back. Silas watches me with eyes like deep tides—patient predator. Waiting. Wanting.
We return to deck. Crew exhales as one. Alaric releases my wrist like it burned him.
And he laughs—bitter, broken under breath. “Almost chose him, didn’t you?”
I stare at the ocean instead of answering. Because yes—for a moment, I almost did.
And that terrifies me more than anything.