Chapter 9 Alaric
CHAPTER NINE
ALARIC
“Are you sure you’re up for it?”
Her voice was gentle, but the question sliced sharper than I expected.
I turned toward her slowly, still seated at the edge of the settee where I’d been lacing up my boots. Malia stood in the doorway, sunlight crowning her like she belonged in it.
And she did. This was her world, after all. Quiet forest paths, sea wind in her hair, bundles of herbs in her arms.
“I’m fine,” I said, then cleared my throat. “Just… taking my time.”
She didn’t press. Just nodded and turned to gather her things: her basket, a thin black shawl, fresh loaves of banana bread and gingersnaps. All the things she always carried. Things I’d grown used to seeing, smelling, hearing.
The market meant returning to my men. It meant facing the wreckage of what was left.
My crew. The ship. The life I’d been living before washing here.
I should’ve been eager to go.
Instead, I stared at the spot where she had just stood.
This was for the best. She was never mine to begin with. And I was never meant to stay.
But blast it, I’d gotten used to her voice in the morning. Her calm, capable hands. The way her food tasted like home and safety.
And the other night… When she woke me from my nightmare.
I couldn’t stop thinking of how good it felt to hold her, to talk to her.
I’d never opened up to anyone like that, and, as far as I knew, nobody had ever opened up to me like that.
As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was starting to really care for her.
Deeply.
I rose slowly, pain flaring in my side, but not enough to keep me here. The wound had healed. Mostly. But the ache in my chest… that one hadn’t.
“You coming?” she called, already a few steps down the trail, her head tipped to the side like she always did. Never quite looking at me.
I’d even gotten used to that.
I forced a breath and followed.
“Yes,” I said. “Time to go.”
Even if it meant saying goodbye.
The coastal market was loud. Colorful fabrics snapped in the wind, laughter echoed from children weaving between stalls, and the air was thick with salt, sugarcane, and the scent of roasting meat. I stood with Malia beneath the banyan trees, feeling like a ghost tethered to the wrong world.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” she asked softly, the fronds above us casting shifting shadows over her face.
No. Not in the least.
But I nodded anyway. “I need to be.”
She gave a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “They’ll be glad to see you.”
I looked at her for a long moment. This girl—this strange, stubborn, beautiful girl—had patched me back together.
And yet, somehow, she had torn me apart at the same time.
“Malia…”
She stepped back before I could finish, as if sensing that my heart was about to betray us both. “Go,” she said. “Before they think you’re dead and start holding ceremonies in your honor.”
I huffed a laugh, and before I could stop myself, I brushed a knuckle down her arm. “Take care of yourself, witch.”
She rolled her eyes, but her mouth trembled with something softer. Then, without warning, she stood on the tips of her toes and kissed my cheek.
It was so sudden. So unexpected. It sent a jolt of warmth through me. Her vanilla and flower scent enveloped me one last time. “You too, huntsman.”
I wanted to grab her and kiss her, but I didn’t move. Just stood there, frozen.
She smiled, her face far more beautiful than any sunrise.
And just like that, she turned and was gone.
I needed to distract myself.
The first thing I did was get clothes that fit.
My men weren’t at the inn, though, but the keeper showed me the room anyway.
After I cut my messy, matted hair, trimmed my facial hair, bathed, and changed into clothes that fit, I felt more like myself.
I felt like I could shoot a harpoon or run along the beach or take another long walk.
Washing felt like I washed away her.
Memories.
Feelings.
It’s all behind me, I told myself.
It was back to work now.
We had twins to find. The ship to fix. The mystery assassins to bring to justice.
I ate alone before looking for my men, hoping the food would give me the boost I needed.
But it didn’t taste good.
Because it’s not her food.
I was going soft, and it killed me.
Keep moving, Alaric.
Every small thing left me more winded than I hoped, but I did keep moving.
I found my men near the harbor, piles of wood and supplies all around as they repaired the Crimson Wake. She looked rough, but definitely getting better.
“Captain!” My cousin embraced me, followed by another clap on the back and hug from Thatcher. Behind them stood the survivors of my crew. They looked unharmed, unscathed. The cheers of the rest of the crew startled a flock of seabirds into flight.
What a relief. It was so good to see everyone.
“We thought you were dead,” Destin said.
“I thought I was too.” I rubbed my freshly-shaved chin. Destin and Thatcher brought out some mugs and motioned to the other men.
“What are you doing?” My voice was harsh.
“Drinking because we survived. You ought to get an ale too,” said Thatcher, but before they could burst open a keg, I stopped them.
“We have to be aware. What if those assassins come after us? You can’t fight if you’re drunk.”
“I fight best when I’m drunk,” Thatcher joked, and I gave him a look.
The crew didn’t dare laugh if I didn’t. I forgot they feared me, especially when Malia hadn’t.
I immediately got back to business. “What news?”
Thatcher unwillingly put the mugs and keg away.
Destin motioned for the men to keep working, then watched as I slumped onto a crate.
I felt every mile I’d walked. Destin knelt beside me, his hand steadying my shoulder without a word.
For a heartbeat, it was like the old days, when the world was narrowed to the creak of timbers and the trust between us.
A flicker of memory: Destin pressing a flask into my hand on a cold night after the hunt went wrong. Thatcher standing guard over me in that cramped port cell when the magistrate swore I’d hang. Storms, blood, betrayals… and still, they’d been there. Still, they called me Captain.
Destin’s voice broke the silence. “You look like death, cousin. But you made it back.”
I nodded, then looked up at him. “Thanks for keeping the crew together.”
He pursed his lips, his eyebrows furrowed. “Just kept hoping by some miracle you’d be alive, and here you are.”
The heaviness weighed between us. Then I took a breath. No time to be sentimental.
“What news?” I asked again.
“Sereth received word of our ship’s attack.” Destin handed me a paper. “She thought you were dead. We all did. She’s coming to help out.”
I read it quickly.
My Dearest Captain Alaric Galeborne,
I am relieved to hear of your safety.
Dearest? Relieved? Since when did she care about my safety?
Please remember our promise. The twins must be delivered to the King of Corallure, along with the sealed letter.
Best,
Her Majesty High Queen Sereth of Moanalei Kingdom
Crumpled it in my hand. Typical. Cold. Dismissive. Relief that didn’t reach the heart. Why was she coming?
The twins.
And, as if reading my thoughts, Destin said, “We found them, Alaric.”
“Well where are they now?” I frowned, but my tone never reached the roughness it was before. What did Malia do to me?
“They said they’re under orders from Sereth to find a witch here.”
“A witch?” I shook my head. There was only one witch around here, at least that I knew of…
“Unbeknownst to us all, they’re witch hunters,” said Destin.
“They wouldn’t tell us much, but from what they did say, Sereth has trained them.
They hunt and kill witches. When Sereth’s messenger came with a letter for us, he asked for the twins.
We told them we couldn’t find them, so he went off looking for them.
Sounds like he had a message for them too. ”
Thatcher suddenly appeared and folded his arms. “We found them though, and we got bits of their message from him.”
“How long ago?”
“Yesterday.”
“What did he tell them?” I demanded.
Destin spoke first. “They refused to come with us because they are under orders from Sereth–”
“They’re looking for a witch,” Thatcher cut in, then pulled up his sleeve, revealing a large gash, which had mostly healed. “The girl gave me this when I tried to detain her. I don’t doubt their abilities. Lilo said they weren’t obligated to stay with us.”
The cut seemed intentional, like Lilo could have gone deeper if she wanted, but she only sliced his skin. A warning.
“So she wants me to take the twins to the king and queen yet Sereth gave them their own separate orders?” I shook my head. Things were not adding up. Wouldn’t she have commanded them to return to me immediately?
Destin made a face. “And speaking of witches, sounds like they’re going after the witch here.”
“Which one?” Thatcher joked. “This place is full of crazy heads. There’s that girl you’re in love with, Alaric. But there’s more. There’s a man–might as well call him a witchy madman–who claims oil can be drilled from the shores throughout the Tempest Seas.”
For a moment, I paused the conversation. Oil could be… drilled? Not harvested by whales?
“Really?”
“You don’t actually believe him!” Thatcher laughed, then frowned. “Do you?”
What if?
“Where is this man?” I asked.
My navigator raised an eyebrow. “Met him at the pub the other day. You don’t really believe him, do you?”
I swallowed hard.
“If there’s a way to obtain oil without killing whales…” I started to say, when Thatcher folded his arms.
“She’s one of them, isn’t she? A whale lover?”
“What?” I looked up.
“That witch?”
I shook my head, returning to our conversation. I’d think about the oil-drilling madman later.
Right now, that witch might be in danger.
Malia.
My shoulders tightened. “What are they saying about Malia?”