POV: Beth
We knew something was wrong long before we saw it.
The sea went quiet first. No gulls, no other ships, not even drifting debris. The crew shifted restlessly, boots scraping planks, fingers worrying at weapons. Even the usual drunk singing died out.
Kaine stood beside me at the rail, squinting ahead. “Can you smell that?”
I inhaled without meaning to. Smoke.
My stomach knotted. “Fire.”
“Too much of it.”
Alaric stood at the helm, one hand on the wheel, his expression carved in stone. “Maregrave should be loud enough to hear from ten miles out,” he said. “I don't hear a damned thing.”
Maregrave—a pirate haven everyone talked about like it was a bad legend and a safe home at once. A place where fugitives could drink, trade, hide, exist without branded collars and Navy chains.
The place we were counting on for allies.
Silence answered him.
As we drew closer, the horizon blackened. Smoke rose in tall columns, smearing the sky like bruises. My throat went tight.
I gripped the rail harder. “No…”
Then I saw it.
Or what was left.
Maregrave wasn’t a port anymore. It was a carcass. Burned ships leaned drunkenly against the docks, masts snapped like broken bones. Buildings along the shore were charred skeletons. Flames still licked stubbornly at some roofs, but most had already collapsed into glowing heaps.
Bodies floated where barrels and crates used to bob.
I slapped a hand over my mouth as bile clawed up my throat.
The crew went quiet, then erupted in curses.
“Holy hells…”
“They slaughtered everyone—”
“Kids too,” someone whispered.
The closer we sailed, the more details sharpened. Pirates were strung up from lamp posts and nailed to the docks. Their bodies sagged loosely, uniforms scorched and stained red. Someone had arranged three corpses in a row at the entrance to the harbor, like trophies.
Above them, nailed into a post, fluttered a pristine flag—golden hawk on navy blue.
Prince Adrian’s sigil.
Kaine swallowed audibly. “Navy did this. Big force, too. No way this was just some patrol.”
“They wanted to make an example,” Mira said from behind us, her voice oddly flat. “This isn’t a raid. It’s a message.”
Alaric didn’t move, eyes fixed on the ruins. His jaw flexed, the only hint that anything touched him. “Drop anchor,” he said. “Carefully. Watch for mines in the water.”
“Why would they mine a dead port?” I asked, voice hoarse.
“Because they’re not finished killing yet.”
The crew obeyed. Chains rattled. The anchor splashed into water that felt wrong to look at—dark and slick like oil.
We lowered a boat to the shattered dock.
My eyes burned, but not from smoke.
A burned tavern stood to our left, its sign half-hanging. A small shape lay near its door—a child, maybe six or seven, clutching a wooden toy. For a second I thought it was a doll.
Then I saw the blood on their clothes.
My knees nearly buckled.
This should break me, I thought.
Instead, something inside… hardened.
“Beth.” Alaric’s voice pulled me back. “Come here.”
I stood, my legs stiff, and walked toward him. He stood near a burnt-out merchant stall, a crumpled paper in his hand. His expression was dark enough to rival the smoke.
He held the paper out toward me.
I took it.
A wanted poster. Cheap parchment, Navy seal stamped at the bottom. Rough charcoal lines formed a face—my face. The artist had exaggerated my eyes and hair, but there was no mistaking it.
THE SEA DAUGHTER
BETHANY
KILL ON SIGHT
3000 GOLD ALIVE—1000 GOLD DEAD
My stomach dropped through the dock.
“Sea Daughter?” I whispered.
Kaine let out a low whistle. “That explains why they hit Maregrave. They must’ve heard you’d been here before, or thought you might run here.”
“The witch—” one of the crew muttered. “Storm Bride. Sea Daughter. They’re making her into a curse.”
“I’m not a curse,” I snapped, staring at the poster like I could burn it to ash by hating it hard enough.
Mira stepped closer, eyes sweeping the parchment. “Apparently, the Prince disagrees.”
Alaric took the poster back, crumpling it in his fist until it tore. “Alive,” he repeated, voice gone dangerous. “He wants you alive.”
“For a spectacle,” I said quietly. “For a noose. For a blade. For a crowd.”
Memories flashed—the royal church, the wedding, Adrian’s cold eyes, the way his mouth curled like he smelled filth when he saw my mark. The way he said pirate-spawn like a curse.
Rowan in chains.
Rowan tortured.
Rowan’s execution date crawling closer.
This wasn’t random war. This was personal. He wanted me destroyed so thoroughly the whole kingdom would learn not to cross him.
“He thinks burning one pirate haven will scare me into running.”
“And does it?” Mira asked, watching me like a cat.
I met her eyes. “No. It makes me want to tear his world apart.”
Alaric’s gaze lingered on me, something unreadable flickering in those storm-gray eyes. For once, he didn’t mock, didn’t tease, didn’t throw a careless remark like a shield.
Instead, he nodded. Just once. Slow. Approval. Agreement. Maybe a warning.
We kept walking through the ruins together, stepping over debris and the dead. We found one survivor—half-buried under fallen beams. A pirate with scorched hair and burns across his arms, coughing black soot.
Alaric and Kaine dragged him free. I knelt and tilted his head, forcing water to his cracked lips.
His eyes flickered open, wild.
“Don’t move,” I said softly. “You’re safe.”
He let out a bitter laugh that dissolved into a cough. “Safe… none of us are safe.”
“Who did this?” Alaric demanded.
The man blinked slowly. “Navy ships. At least ten. They had flyers… asking for the Sea Daughter. Said anyone who sheltered her would burn.”
His gaze slid to me. For a second, terror flared in his eyes—then recognition. “You,” he rasped. “You’re her.”
My throat closed. “Do you know anything about Rowan of England? The governor? They hold him—”
“Rowan…” The survivor’s brows drew tight, like the name hurt. “Rumor says… they moved him closer to the capital. Prince wants him on display. Execution sooner than announced. A week early. Maybe more.” His hand twitched, fingers curling weakly in my direction. “Storm Bride… you should run.”
I gripped his hand. “I’m done running.”
His chest shuddered. Then stilled.
Silence swallowed us again.
Alaric exhaled through his teeth. “We can’t stay here. Navy might come back to check their handiwork.”
Kaine nodded grimly. “And there’s nothing left to save.”
“He wants the Sea Daughter?” I whispered, staring out at the blackened horizon. “Fine. I’ll give him one.”
Mira tilted her head. “Meaning?”
“Meaning,” I said, “I’m done pretending I can win this by staying good. Adrian knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s not going to stop until I’m dead. Or he is.”
The words felt huge in my mouth.
But right.
Perfectly right.
Kaine looked at me with something like respect. “That’s the first thing you’ve said that sounds like a pirate.”
Alaric watched me a heartbeat too long. The wind whipped his hair, his expression unreadable.
“You’re not just a governor’s daughter anymore,” he said finally, voice low. “The Prince made sure of that.”
“No,” I agreed. “He made me his enemy.”
I turned back toward the ship, the ruined haven burning behind us, my heart beating to a new rhythm.
Not reason. Not hope. Rage. Reason was dead. All that remained was what came after.