Chapter 13
Esmyra
The Night Wraith drifted across the waves, silent as the grave. Esmyra lay sprawled on the wooden deck, her midnight hair fanned out around her as the chilly night air bit into her skin. Above her, the stars burned, their light reflecting in the ink-black sea surrounding her ship on all sides.
It had been nearly three days since she fled the castle and slipped into the river that led out to sea, allowing the current to carry her to her ship since she was unable to shift.
It was as if, even without access to her power, the sea was protecting her and guiding her to safety of its own accord.
The wound in her side throbbed, the edges burning where the velsinyte bullet went straight through her.
She had to dig the bullet out of her thigh muscle with her talons, the leg next to useless while her body failed to heal.
Even now, she could feel it, something still coiling in her blood, resisting her body’s attempts to purge it. It was unnatural and invasive.
She clenched her jaw, exhaling slowly as she ignored the sharp ache. Her fingers curled against the deck, talons digging into the splintered onyx wood.
Draevyn had helped her, and she fucking loathed him for it. He’d dragged her to safety, risking everything for her, when all she wanted was to have him drown in his own flames.
Her mind raced, wondering why he would bother. She desperately worked to rid it from her mind. For all she knew, it was out of guilt. Guilt knowing if it wasn’t for what he’d done, none of this would’ve happened.
Right now, she needed to hold on to the rage. There was still so much left to do, and dealing with the Rowes was only the beginning of her plan. Esmyra had tried to be good these past few months. Tried to be the person Jak thought she was—who Draevyn made her believe she was or could’ve been.
But the only thing she had left now was her fury. For the Rowes, for the gods, for anyone who had crossed her and come out alive while she hadn’t.
Whatever flicker of softness had existed before—whatever part of her that faltered as Draevyn carried her body through the flames—was dead.
Her father was gone, the gods hid behind their veil, and the Rowe brothers still breathed. That was the only truth.
Esmyra had nothing left but vengeance, and she would see it through.
“Kaelypso?” She reached into herself, calling on her, but she was met with silence.
Esmyra had gone unanswered since that last bullet struck, ripping away what was left of her power. And with it, Kaelypso.
The ship rocked beneath her as if in agreement as the waters shifted on their own to guide her home.
Home.
Was that what Maerinys was now? Once the only place that felt like home was the rotted, salt-stained deck she currently laid on. But even now, without her crew—without their constant bickering, laughter, and watchful eyes—even The Night Wraith felt empty. And she was entirely alone.
Thoughts of her crew plagued her. The men who had followed her into the depths of that cave in search of Maerinys.
She missed Jak, Ren, and Riven and their annoying jokes.
The small comments they would throw at her, just to see if she’d take their bait.
Gods, she would even give anything to sit through one of Jak’s lectures again.
There once was a time where she thought she preferred solitude, and it took until this moment to realize she was never truly alone. Not fully.
While she’d been alone in her magic and race, she’d been surrounded by love her entire existence. Pirates certainly had an interesting way of showing it, but it took losing her crew to realize that was exactly what they had. A familial love for one another.
They never even had to go to a real war together.
Esmyra had always taken care of any threat with the snap of her fingers, and now they had paid the ultimate price for it.
She hadn’t even seen them at the palace, or any trace of them for that matter.
Perhaps they had never even made it to Lephyrin once they were captured.
She forced down the ache that threatened to rise in her chest.
And then another name entered her mind, unbidden. Elowynne.
Her jaw tightened as she pushed herself to her feet. She still didn’t understand how the elven female had twisted her mind with a single glance, forcing her into a nightmare she hadn’t been able to escape.
Esmyra braced herself against the ship’s railing, staring out over the endless stretch of dark water. The wind tugged at her hair, sending it whipping around her face as she exhaled sharply.
She had never been attacked before from inside her own head.
The worst part about it was she hadn’t even known. Esmyra hadn’t realized that her reality was twisting away into something she knew wasn’t real but couldn’t fight against. It had stolen her control, her will. And that terrified her.
Was this what it felt like for them? The people she had sung to their deaths, the ones whose minds she had bent to her will with nothing but a single glance.
Did they feel this same helplessness as she pulled their strings, weaving their thoughts into something they had no power to resist?
Had they known, somewhere deep down, what had been happening but been unable to fight it?
The thought unsettled her in a way nothing else had.
Esmyra let out a huff and turned away from the water. She had never cared before. They were only fools who had fallen prey to her power, and that was the price of crossing her. The cost of being weak.
But now… now she had fallen victim to it herself.
Did that make her weak?
No. No. She wasn’t weak. She was a godsdamn goddess.
Syrena would need to know what happened and what Esmyra had learned. The thought of facing her sister sent a knot twisting deep in her stomach.
Esmyra was able to raise their kingdom from the depths with nothing but her own rage and will, and yet, she had failed again. Not only did she fall into the mental trap of elven magic, but she was shot multiple times. And with velsinyte at that.
How was Lephyrin even in possession of so much of it? Every time she turned, they had forged a new weapon with the stone containing their Divine’s blood. She needed to find the source. If anything, to wipe it out and destroy it before they found a way to destroy her.
The ship rocked beneath her as the distant outline of Maerinys came into view, its towering spires bathed in the ghostly glow of the moon.
A cruel grin crept up Esmyra’s face. One thing was certain, and that was that Lephyrin’s new king had a weakness—his pretty elven wife. And Esmyra had no intention of waiting for Atlas to strike first.
His soon-to-be crowned queen would be the perfect little prize to rip from his grasp.