Chapter 29
Draevyn
Draevyn’s ship, Valor, groaned as it dropped anchor, chains rattling through the dark water. Mist clung to the wooden piers of Anchorage Cove like a ghost as the scent of salt, ale, and rotting fish plagued the air.
Oh, yeah. We’re in the right place. Draevyn and his crew hated it here when they first made port all those months ago, the night he and Esmyra crossed paths. It was filthy, grimy, and full of nothing but the realm’s most violent scum.
And now he was likely considered one of them.
The mighty had certainly fallen, but he didn’t truly feel that way in his heart. If anything, he felt more alive. He wasn’t sure if it was from the thrill of everything he’d done since he crossed paths with his Wildfire, or because, deep down, he knew this was where he belonged.
It had taken them nearly a week to get to Anchorage Cove with the sad excuse of a crew they had left. The journey had been long, tense, and riddled with near mutinies.
From the moment they’d sailed out of Lephyrin’s waters and set a course, the ship had become a powder keg barely held together. Two crews—what remained of his men and the shattered survivors of Esmyra’s—were forced to sail under one flag.
One thing was clear after several days: They still didn’t trust each other. Not even close.
Ren, Riven, and Alec continued to mutter about betrayal, shooting him accusing glares. They blamed his choices for the deaths of their own, and for Esmyra’s disappearance. But Sam and Tommy, Draevyn’s only men aboard, stood firm and defensive, unwilling to bow to blame.
Jak, however, somehow fit in between it all. His allegiance only to the dark-haired siren they were all desperately searching for and whatever helped them find her faster.
Draevyn often wondered what would happen when they eventually did find Esmyra. Would she take her crew back and kill the rest of them on sight? Would she think they betrayed her too? Gods, there were so many things that could happen, and he knew the odds against him.
Now, as they reached Anchorage Cove, the uneasy truce still held, but barely.
Draevyn stood at the bow, eyes scanning the jagged silhouette of the ramshackle town rising from the ground and cliffside. Lanterns flickered behind warped shutters and music drifted from distant taverns. The people who frequented here were unapologetic, lawless, and loud.
But to him, it felt haunted.
Footsteps sounded behind him. Without turning back, he said, “We just anchored here. We’ll take the pinnaces to shore and then try to think of a better plan once we see how crowded the isle is.”
A few grumbles of agreement rang out, and they did just that. One by one, they climbed into their two lifeboats and lowered them to the water before rowing to shore in an uncomfortable silence.
Their pinnaces brushed against the gritty sand of the beach, and they all leapt out at once. The small remnants of waves rushed around Draevyn’s boots as he stood at the edge, the entirety of their makeshift crew standing at his back.
“Spread out,” Draevyn ordered. “See if there are any rogue sailors interested in joining a crew, and ask anyone who might know something about Maerinys. Someone here must’ve seen something.
I saw the lightning in the sky all the way from Lephyrin.
But do this quietly. You never know who’s listening. ”
Murmurs of understanding followed his orders, and then they all disembarked, walking up the beach and then melting into the streets like shadows. Sam and Tommy took to taverns, while the pirates took to brothels and smoke dens.
Draevyn waited until the last of them disappeared into the alleys before taking his first step into the streets.
The gravel crumbled beneath his steps as seagulls cried overhead.
Somewhere in the distance, a voice cursed drunkenly, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of a sword in a back-alley fight.
Typical. It seemed as though nothing ever changed in Anchorage Cove.
He moved through the streets quickly, cloak drawn tight, eyes scanning every face. Footsteps sounded behind him, and his hand instantly fell to the hilt of his sword.
“Relax.” Jak’s voice sounded. “So, what’s your plan now, golden boy? Spread us all about in search of a new crew while you search for her on the isle?”
He turned slowly, eyes narrowing. Esmyra’s first mate stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his lips set in a tight line and a pistol tucked into his belt.
They’d worked surprisingly well together these past few days, co-captaining this ragged ship of misfits. But the air between them had never warmed. Not fully. Draevyn wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the man would be anything close to pleasant if they didn’t share this common goal.
“I didn’t realize I had to clear my every move with you,” he answered, though his voice carried the edge of a threat.
Jak snorted. “You don’t. But you seem dead set on charging blind into whatever shitstorm she’s left behind. Figured I’d ask if there’s a plan besides playing hero and getting more people killed. My people, may I add.” His owl-like eyes narrowed.
Draevyn’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
Jak’s features softened. “What if Esmi doesn’t want to be found? If she knows Cyrus is dead, and believes the rest of us to be…” He blew out a breath. “Phoenix, I hate to say it, but there’s nothing left for her here.”
Draevyn looked away, jaw tightening. “Then we find her anyway.”
Eventually, Jak sighed and stepped up to him. “Fine. I’ll take the slums near the old salt markets on the other side of town. You hit the ale dens. Someone always talks when they’re drunk enough.”
Draevyn gave a sharp nod.
“And try not to burn anyone alive. Nobody likes to draw that much attention in a place like this,” he added, right before shifting into his owl form mid step and swooping into the night sky.
“No promises,” Draevyn muttered, turning toward the crooked sprawl of taverns up the hill.