Bonus Chapter
Sea charts and ledgers covered the table.
Destin stood on one side and Thatcher on the other.
I rubbed my chin, trying to soak in all we’d accomplished in just a few short months.
My whaling empire turned merchant trade.
New routes.
New partnerships.
Retraining the crewmen.
And now… a new enterprise: digging oil from the ground.
There were reserves drowning in oil; we just had to find them. The genius from the kingdom of Corallure had more than enough evidence to prove that crude oil could be found in coastlines throughout the Tempest Seas.
And I wanted to be the first distributor of it.
But politics kept me busy.
I’d only been king a few months, and quickly found that it left me little to no time to run my whaling-turned oil drilling business.
Thus I was here, with Destin and Thatcher, putting them in charge. They were the only two I had complete confidence in while being king and ruling kept me busy.
Yet they seemed off… less engaged. Joking more than usual. Dodging eye contact.
“Are you both planning a mutiny?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, “Or are you bored of all this paperwork?”
“Destin would rather be off looking for that sea witch he always talks about,” Thatcher teased, and Destin shoved him.
Then he stared at the maps before us. “We’ve had offers from the leader of that new kingdom, Alaric.”
I folded my arms.
We’d been discussing this merchant and oil business for over an hour, and it took them this long to admit it?
In the northern islands, a new kingdom had formed, one ruled under the shadow of volcano and ash.
Pelehua. The name was as intimidating as the new queen sounded. Rumor was she kept a young princess trapped in a tower, but nobody could yet confirm why.
Prince Elias and his older brother, the Crown Prince of Corallure, were going to investigate.
I was sending Thatcher to go along with them.
Not only did I want to ensure the Corallure princes made it safely–thanks to Thatcher’s excellent navigation–but I wanted Thatcher to create more detailed maps for my businesses.
Now the crown’s businesses.
“And are you going to take the offers?” I asked. “We don’t know much about Pelehua.”
“Except it’s ruled by a maniac queen,” Thatcher teased, but Destin seemed thoughtful. Serious.
I could tell he was drifting.
“They were good offers.”
“Better than what we can offer?” I asked. We were all practical men, who went for the best deals when they were presented.
But it killed me inside to know that someone else’s offer for work–to my two best men–was better than mine.
Their silence spoke volumes.
I nodded, wishing they’d stay, but knowing the call of adventure. That call had urged me to become a huntsman myself. Called me to go to sea.
It was irresistible, and I could see it in their eyes.
“If you go, go with my blessing,” I said. “But Moanalei could use captains and navigators like you. Not just on the sea–but here. Helping make the Tempest Seas a better and safer place for everyone.”
There was a long pause, then Thatcher said, “We’ll think about it, captain.”
Before Destin could reply too, a soft knock on the door sounded, followed by Malia walking in with a tray of mangoes, banana bread, salty taro chips, and fresh pressed guava juice.
Destin immediately smiled and turned to me. “Didn’t know being king came with snack privileges.”
“Is this what happens when you marry a witch?” Thatcher teased. “Food magically shows up?”
“Trust me,” I said, wrapping my hand around my wife’s waist and pressing a kiss to her temple. “Being married to Malia comes with more privileges than you both could ever dream of.”
She blushed while my men laughed, whistled, and hollered.
“Alaric.” She gave me a look in her own strange way, her brown eyes and beautiful face the only thing I could ever stare at all day.
After we arrived in Moanalei months ago, and the truth was brought to light, the people quickly voted her to be their queen.
She was pardoned from her crimes and became the most benevolent queen that the kingdom had ever seen.
“Good to see you, love,” I said and rubbed her arm. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
She didn’t laugh at any jokes.
Didn’t even try to see me in the way she looked at me.
Malia placed the tray down and wandered to the window, unusually quiet. Normally she loved hearing about Thatcher and Destin’s love interests. She even tried to set them up with a few servants.
Not today. She played with her long dark hair and smoothed out her gown, but said nothing.
I took a drink of the guava juice and went over to her while my men began plotting their next plans: where’d they search next for crude oil, and how they’d probably find the woman Destin was sure he loved.
Wrapping my arms around my wife, I kissed her neck, asking quietly, “What’s wrong, Malia?”
Her shoulders stiffened and she attempted a laugh.
“Oh it’s nothing.”
“Nothing.” I said the word like it was salty water in my mouth.
The bell rang and Malia sighed. “Time for your meetings, Alaric. You’re doing so well at this king stuff, and…” Her voice trailed off.
I took her hands. The meeting could wait. “And you’re the best queen this kingdom could ever ask for,” I said.
Malia shook her head. Didn’t believe me. The bell rang again.
She gave me a quick kiss and then hurried out.
Something is wrong, I thought. And I would find out.
I was king of Moanalei. And the wealthiest, most powerful businessman.
But, most importantly, I was Malia’s husband.
I found Malia on the balcony that night, sitting cross-legged in the moonlight, her nightgown loose and long. Her dark hair fell on either side of her, and she absently pinched leaves from a potted herb.
Sitting beside her, I wrapped my arm around her waist and let the silence do the work.
After a long moment, Malia finally spoke. “Maybe some people are right. I’m not a queen.”
My jaw clenched and my first instinct was anger.
Who said that? But I kept it in. It could’ve been anyone who said it–a royal, a commoner, a servant. Anyone. What mattered was Malia.
“You don’t need a crown to rule, Malia. You need a good heart, and you have that. Always have.”
Silence.
Then Malia sat on my lap and rested her head on my chest. “I just worry that people will always see me as a witch.”
“Let them.”
More silence.
“It doesn’t change your heart. Keep being you, and let people talk. They’ll soon see–from the person you are, and your actions–that you’re good. Witch or not.”
After another long moment, Malia turned my chin and kissed my lips. I’d never tired of these moments.
Heart pounding and calming.
Like anchoring in a bay, finally home.
“Remember, if you can make a rough whaler a better person, you can help anyone,” I said.
Malia hesitated, pondering. “Even with my limited eyesight and being an orphan?”
“I think that’s what makes people admire you even more,” I said, rubbing her arm. “I don’t know how you do all that you do with your eyesight. You even stitched me up.”
And then she smiled.
A real smile.
“Thank you Alaric, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
She played with my hair and we sat in silence for a long moment.
Then, “Is everything alright with Destin and Thatcher?”
I pursed my lips then sighed. “They’re thinking of taking jobs under that mysterious Pelehua queen.”
“The one who locked the princess in a tower?” Malia asked, baffled. We’d only heard bad things about the queen, and I was eager to hear the prince's report on her after their voyage.
“I understand,” I said. “It’s the call to adventure. The call for more.” Then I shook my head. “We’re whalers, I suppose. Always looking for the next hunt.”
“Do you want to go back out to sea?” Malia asked.
I hesitated.
Wouldn’t lie to her… because sometimes I did feel that urge, that tug, like a net dragging through the water.
“Sometimes.” Then I drew her closer to me. “But I want to be here with you, more than anything else.”
And then she smiled again. A real, beautiful, angelic smile.
The next day, the princes of Corallure arrived and we held a banquet for them before their expedition to Pelehua.
It was good to see Prince Elias again. He looked healthy and happier than ever, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He and Sereth were swiftly divorced after the crown transitioned from him to Malia. We remained good friends.
And now… we all ate together. The conversation was light. Playful.
“Father says if the queen of Pelehua is young and if–a big if–” said Crown Prince Damien, “Elias is interested, he should propose to her. Strengthen the ties between the existing kingdoms and the new one.”
Malia made a face. “You better get to know her first,” she said and Elias gave her a serious look.
“Oh I intend to. No more arranged marriages for me.” And, though it had hurt him to be married to Sereth, it seemed he could now laugh a little at it.
“We also have to keep an eye out for Destin’s sea witch,” Thatcher said.
“A sea witch?” Elias raised an eyebrow. Before Thatcher could indulge the princes with Destin’s love life, Destin nudged him.
“Let me tell it–it’s my story.” He nodded to the princes. “Maybe you might have some clues to the location of my mystery witch.”
Malia leaned in, all too excited to hear the story again.
“When I was a teen, I met the most beautiful girl in a village here at Moanalei.”
“Not as beautiful as you,” I whispered in Malia’s ear and she smiled.
“We became close friends,” Destin said. “But one day a rumor spread. They said my friend cursed a fellow village girl to silence. And so one day the sea witch and her family disappeared.”
“What happened to the girl who was cursed with silence?” asked Malia.
“She still lives there. I’ve asked her again and again where my sea witch is, but she’s terrified and won’t say a word.”
“A mystery indeed,” said the Crown Prince, sitting back. Elias was just as intrigued, but thoughtful.
“Your sea witch sounds like a villain, if you ask me,” Thatcher joked and Destin rolled his eyes.
“Aren’t we all villains in someone’s story?” he asked.
Laughter rippled around the table. Even Elias cracked a rare smile.
The laughter faded into a comfortable quiet, broken only by the clink of cups and the rustle of palm leaves in the breeze. That’s when Thatcher cleared his throat.
“By the way, Captain—King—whatever we’re calling you these days,” he said, raising a brow. “Destin and I talked. We’ve decided we’re not staying at Pelehua.”
“Too hot,” Destin added with a shrug, then smirked. “And too many royals with sharp agendas.”
Thatcher nodded. “Besides, you’re the one we’d follow into a squall or a banquet hall. You were a good captain, Alaric. You’re an even better king.”
I blinked. These two had stood beside me through mutinies, storms, and near-death more times than I could count—but this? This quiet loyalty? It meant more than any title.
“You’re stuck with us,” Destin said, tapping his cup to mine. “Hope you don’t mind.”
A slow smile tugged at my mouth. “Wasn’t really planning on letting you go anyway.”
Malia gave me a sideways glance, the corner of her mouth quirked in a smile. She nudged my knee beneath the table, warm and familiar, and I felt it like sunlight through the storm.
I placed my hand on her leg and she quickly grabbed it to squeeze it.
Thatcher leaned back in his chair with a smirk. “If we’re staying in court, we’ll need new uniforms. Something less fish-stained, more… king’s noble captains and advisors.”
“Speak for yourself,” Destin muttered. “I like smelling like salt and danger. Keeps people guessing.”
“Guessing whether you're a sailor or a scoundrel,” Malia quipped and I laughed.
“Same thing some days,” Destin said with a shrug. “Depends on who’s telling the story.”
Malia chuckled softly. “To some you’d be a hero. To others, the villain.”
I raised an eyebrow. How many versions of ourselves existed out there, depending on the storyteller? I leaned back, one arm resting behind Malia’s chair. “Well, I must’ve done something right. I got the girl.
“Maybe you’re not the villain,” Malia said softly. “Maybe you were just lost at sea.”
My chest tightened… because she knew. Knew how much of my life had been spent drifting, how much I’d tried to outrun the dark past behind me. And still, she chose to anchor herself beside me.
Across the table, Elias lifted his goblet. “To being the villain in one story and the hero in another.”
“And to happy endings,” Malia added, raising her cup.
And that got me thinking. Maybe Destin was right.
Maybe we were all villains in someone’s story.
But in Malia’s story?
I looked at her, but she was already looking at me in her way, her eyes shining like the ocean at sunrise.
I got to be her happily ever after.
Across the table sat my friends with storms on the horizon: one chasing ghosts, the other haunted by a sea witch.
And something told me that mine and Malia’s story wasn’t the only one just beginning, but I sure was glad even villains could get a happily-ever-after. Because she definitely was mine.
THE END.