POV: Beth
By morning, fog thick as wool wrapped the shipyard, muffling sound like we were underwater. We set sail fast—no one wanted to linger where ghosts still whispered through planks. The world outside Port of Bones felt too alive, too bright, like waking from a nightmare only to realize you want to sleep again and hear what came next.
I tried to shake it. Tried to bury the whispers.
They clung to me like wet ropes.
On deck, the crew gathered, exhausted but buzzing with new fear. They weren’t looking at the horizon—they were looking at me. Whispering again. Sidelong glances. Awe or fear—I couldn’t tell.
Mira broke the thickness like a knife through silk.
She swept across the deck in red like fresh blood, hair loose, smirk carved with intention. “Captain,” she called, leaning lazily near Alaric. “Sleep well? I had dreams of Leviathan bones wrapped in gold.”
Alaric, damn him, let his lips curl. “Shame you woke up.”
The crew laughed. My jaw clenched.
Mira slid closer, chest brushing his arm. “We could chase dreams together again. Like old times. We were unstoppable, remember?”
He chuckled. Casual. Too casual. “We were reckless.”
“Reckless is just another word for alive,” she breathed.
My stomach twisted. Hard.
I pretended to study rope knots instead of glaring holes into her skull. But Mira noticed anyway. She always did. She thrived on attention—and pain.
She turned her head, eyes catching mine. “Careful, dear Beth. Staring too hard might burn.”
I smiled sweetly. “Then I hope you burn first.”
Alaric barked a laugh—surprised, entertained. Mira’s smirk tightened, only slightly.
Petty.
Jealousy tasted bitter as seawater.
But I refused to let either see how deep it cut.
When Kaine walked by, he murmured low: “You’re glaring. Whole crew sees.”
“I’m observing,” I hissed.
“You’re jealous,” he corrected, amused.
“I don’t care about Alaric.”
Kaine arched a brow. “Then why’s your hand shaking?”
I dropped my gaze. Damn him.
Alaric approached then, the scent of salt and rum clinging to him like a familiar sin. “We need new sails, new supplies. Beth, you’re with me. Mira, handle weapons stock.”
Mira stepped closer to him, fingers brushing his sleeve deliberately. “Why not take me instead? We work well together.”
Beth: brittle smile. “He needs someone competent.”
Mira’s eyes sharpened. “You volunteering?”
“Oh absolutely,” I said lightly, “unless you think I’ll slow your king down.”
Silence snapped like wind-filled canvas.
Alaric’s glance flicked between us—shock, humor, pride tangled.
Finally, he extended a hand slightly my way. “Come on, princess.”
Mira watched us leave—smile poised like a predator waiting for a slip.
On shore, waves struck rocks hard as bone. Markets bustled, pirates arguing over rotten fish and gold like religion. I kept pace beside Alaric, refusing to trail behind like a shadow.
He noticed.
“Training shows,” he muttered.
“Your flirting shows,” I shot back.
He blinked—caught. “That wasn’t—”
“It was obvious,” I snapped. “She wants power, not you.”
“And you think you understand pirates now?” His tone sharpened. “A month alone on shore and suddenly you’re an expert?”
Heat flared in my chest. “I survived without you.”
He stopped walking. Just stopped, turning toward me slowly like a storm changing direction.
His eyes darkened. “And you think I didn’t look for you?”
The world tilted.
I swallowed. “Did you?”
Silence. A muscle in his jaw ticked.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he looked away—at the horizon, or at a truth he feared to face. The quiet between us hurt more than any blade.
We bought supplies, bartered gold, argued in hushed spits and starts. Stolen glances. Tension tight as rigging lines in hurricanes.
Back aboard at dusk, Mira lounged near the helm, twirling rope through her fingers. “You two look flushed,” she said sweetly. “Argument or kiss?”
My face burned. “Neither.”
“Shame,” she pouted. “I was hoping for a show.”
Alaric’s voice dropped dangerously. “Enough, Mira.”
She just smiled—too knowing. Too close.
And when he turned away, she whispered to me, soft as poison:
“You’re not the only one the sea calls.”
I met her eyes, unblinking. “Maybe. But it calls me louder.”
Her smile faltered. Good.
As night wrapped the ship in tides of shadow, I stood at the bow alone, gripping the rail until splinters bit skin.
I didn’t want to care. I didn’t want to burn. But I was burning anyway—for power, vengeance, a crown the ocean whispered with my name. And for a pirate king who flirted with danger
the way other men flirted with women.