Chapter 5
Fresh air wafts over my face. In the center of the courtyard, a group crowds a table. Men, women, young, old. There’s no orderly line—no direction. The flyers only fell from the sky moments ago, yet people are already fighting for a chance to gamble their lives.
I force a swallow and elbow through. Towering bodies crush in from every side, sweat cloying at my lungs.
The noise dulls in my ears, heart pounding in my head.
So many people. My chest constricts, and my heels slip over the uneven stones, but I keep my focus trained on the table and break through to the front.
The Sky Court guard raises a brow. “Can I help you?”
Bodies press into my back, and the jagged surface of the table digs into my hips and palms as I force myself to remain upright. “I’d like to sign up.”
He straightens, frozen for a heartbeat, then barks a laugh. Within moments, others join in, their breath hot on the back of my neck.
My lip curls. “Is there a problem?”
His smile only grows. I burn his features into my mind—the curve of his nose, the dark beads of his pupils, the arch of his lips.
I never forget a face.
“You’re a courtesan.” A scoff. “His Majesty’s favorite, if I’m not mistaken.”
There’s a weight to his words—a judgment that paints a target on my back. Gazes bore into me, pressing closer.
“I’m failing to see your point,” I bite out.
I snatch the quill, but before I ink my name onto the list, the guard slams my wrist into the table and pins it beneath his hand.
“You aren’t allowed to enter.”
I blow out a huff. “That’s absurd. I have every right to—”
“No castle staff are permitted.” He smiles, eyes dancing over me. “King’s orders, darling.”
“But—”
His free hand finds the pommel of the sword strapped to his waist. “Are you questioning the King?”
Registering the threat in his tone, I lower my eyes. I’m trained well enough to know I don’t hold an advantage here—not with so many witnesses. “No.”
If word got back to Caelus that I attacked a royal guard, I wouldn’t live to morning.
And I refuse to die at the hand of a man rather than the embrace of the sea.
“Good. Move along, then.”
Dropping the quill, I rip free from his grasp and push my way out of the crowd—past the pointed, lingering gazes clinging to me like moss.
I clench my jaw and slip into an empty, dark alley.
My feet ache, but I can’t return into the castle. Not yet. Not with the only chance of freedom—the moment I’ve waited an entire decade for—ripped from my grasp.
The back door of a tavern swings open and slams into the wall across from me. I slink into the shadows as two men appear, pulling another behind them. His head is bowed, legs limp, feet dragging over the floor. They murmur something unintelligible and roll him down the stairs.
He hits the ground with a thud, motionless.
The door slams shut, leaving his body bathed in the glow of an oil lantern. I step closer and furrow my brow. It’s not a man after all, but a woman. Short, blonde hair spills from her collar, pooling into a puddle. I kneel beside her and press my fingers to her artery.
No heartbeat.
My breath catches. I reel back as thick, oily blood drips from a wound at her ribs and runs through the cracks in the gravel. There’s a name sewn into the underside of her collar—Harriet Wells.
I lean closer and find a slip of paper peeking out from her clenched fist. Prying her fingers open, I retrieve it.
A list of names stares back at me—some illegible, some crossed out, and all with values scribbled beside them in the margins.
I scan her lifeless body. She must be the bounty hunter Cassio was talking about, the one he was so worried about avoiding. Returning my focus to the list, I scan the bottom, and my blood turns to ice.
Princess of the Sea.
Beneath that is a list of locations spanning every landmass and body of water, each crossed out, except for one. Sarenia.
My stomach roils, and I tear the paper into bits, scattering the remains into the puddle. Returning to the woman, I press my fingers to her throat, holding my breath while I check for her pulse again.
A minute passes with no heartbeat.
I sink onto my heels and ball my hands into fists. I only wish she lived long enough for me to interrogate her about who’s looking for me. Why she’s scoured the world for me.
The only person I can think of is Caelus, but even then, he’s never been concerned with trying to find me. Most people assume I’m dead.
Her hat falls off and sinks into the puddle. I ease it out, and water spills over the brim. I run my fingers over the worn edges and the folded sides sewn to the cap.
A pirate.
My heart thuds in my chest.
She would be allowed to enter The Gales.
Tilting my head, I scan her clothes—a tad oversized. They’d be long on me, but nothing a seamstress couldn’t fix.
The puddle stills, and my reflection stares back. I’m cast in shadows, but I make out my blue eyes, long hair, and rounded cheekbones—so at odds with her short blonde hair and harsh features.
Nothing glamour can’t alter.
I bolt upright and shake my head. No, it would be far too risky.
I retreat a step, and my foot sinks into water, soaking me to the ankle. A shout comes from the end of the alley, and a group of men stagger past, likely heading to a pub after adding their names to the list.
Their faces cloud my vision, and Caelus’s smile haunts my thoughts—his every unwanted touch a brand on my skin. My hands grip the hat so hard they tremble, fingertips sinking into the worn leather.
This is my chance to break the curse.
Water drips from the gutter behind me, splashing to the cobblestones. For years, I’ve passed as a courtesan and spy, slipping right under the nose of the Sky Court.
If anything, I know how to remain hidden in plain sight.
My blood pumps faster, heating me from within. A serpentine smile tilts the corners of my mouth. I kneel down, my dress pooling in dirty rain water, and run my fingers over the cotton of her shirt.
I tug at the strings crisscrossing her collar. “You won’t miss these clothes, will you?”
Standing, I arrange the pirate’s hat in my palm and press it to the top of my head.
Perfect fit.