Chapter 23
Draevyn
Draevyn moved swiftly through the castle’s corridors, the hood of his cloak tucked tight as his boots were silent against the stone. He looked up to the windows. The mist fogging the glass could work to their advantage once he and the crew fled the castle.
This plan to break Esmyra’s crew free was absolutely mad, but he was out of options. They had to get to her before she sank deeper into Kaelypso’s wrath and Syrena’s talons.
Draevyn was certain of one thing: If he couldn’t reach her, then only her crew could.
After her first visit to the castle, reports came in that she arrived on a ghostly ship of onyx wood and tattered sails. It was then Draevyn knew she had somehow raised The Night Wraith from the depths, and she likely thought her crew was dead.
The dungeons were just ahead; all he needed to clear now were three turns, two flights of stairs, and an iron door.
And a velsinyte-barred cell. His teeth clenched at the thought.
Draevyn rounded the last corner and strode down the stairs but came to a sudden halt only a few steps from the bottom.
Fucking hells.
Two guards stood only feet before him at the entryway, guarding the iron door.
“Prince Draevyn,” one of them said, frowning. Draevyn’s head reared back at the title. “You’re not authorized to be down here.”
“I’m just checking on something. Won’t take long.”
“Orders are to deny entry,” the second guard admitted. “Even if it’s you.”
Embers burned at his fingertips. “Not even the captain of Lephyrin’s sea fleet? Who brought these fugitives here to be imprisoned in the first place?”
“King’s orders, I’m afraid,” the guard admitted, his eyes drifting to Draevyn’s hands.
King’s orders. Draevyn’s jaw tightened.
Of course. His brother clearly didn’t trust him still, or in the least suspected he was planning something.
He took a slow breath, steadying the conflict in his chest. These men had sworn oaths to his family and kingdom, but this was bigger than that.
Esmyra was still out there. And her crew, the only ones who would fight for her aside from him, were rotting in chains because of what he’d done. They were his only chance.
“You’re saying King Atlas has been crowned for barely a day and has given specific orders to not let me into my own godsdamn dungeons?” he snapped, his voice holding a growl.
The guards’ grips on their weapons tightened, a slight tremble in their hands giving away their fear. “Indeed. It’s to make sure the crew can’t lie and trick you into going after that monstrous sea witch.”
A fury-filled blaze erupted within him, thrashing and just waiting to be set loose. The veins in Draevyn’s neck tightened, his teeth clenching to the point of pain. “What did you just call her?”
“A monstrous sea—”
The man didn’t have time to finish his sentence.
Flames roared to life in Draevyn’s palms, and he sent a torrent of controlled fire straight at the guards, lighting up the dungeon’s corridor.
Their screams died at the edge of their tongues as the blaze consumed them both.
Their armor blackened before melting to their forms, and seconds later their flesh and bones were reduced to nothing but piles of ash.
Draevyn stared down at the soot before his boots, waiting for the remorse and guilt of what he just did to drape over him, but it never came.
He was done playing the courtly games, and if the realm dared challenge him or get in the way of him finding Esmyra, then they would meet the Phoenix.
It wouldn’t matter who they were at this point.
If they were an enemy of her, then they were an enemy of him.
If they threatened his Wildfire, their end would come at the hands of the Phoenix’s flames.
Draevyn raced through the iron door, leaping over the charred piles of bone and ash he left behind, and barreled through the corridors until he met the sight of golden eyes. The Night Wraith’s crew stood just beyond the barred cell door.
They looked worse than when he’d left them before. Faces bruised. Limbs bloodied. One man had a rag tied around his arm, crusted with dried blood.
“It’s about godsdamn time, Phoenix,” Jak greeted him. He was surprised to see a subtle smirk curve the owl-shifter’s lips.
“Aye,” Draevyn huffed, out of breath. “It’s time. But we need to be quick.”
“No shit.”
He stared at the lock, Atlas’s shadows swirling in and around it like living vipers.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“I don’t presume you have a key?” Riven taunted.
“There isn’t one. It’s locked by Atlas’s magic,” he admitted.
“This may appear slightly obvious,” Jak started, and Draevyn slowly lifted his gaze to him, “but it appears your brother isn’t here. Nor do I think he would unlock the cage he placed us in either.” His last few words came out in a grumble.
“Just let me think for a minute,” Draevyn snapped.
“Do we even have a minute? How’d you get past the guards anyway?” Ren asked.
No. No, we don’t have a minute.
Draevyn rattled the lock as he pulled and yanked, but nothing made it budge. His shoulders tensed, panic crawling into his lungs as he watched the shadows weave and slither along the metal. If he couldn’t get them out, if he’d come all this way, murdered those guards, and failed—
The lock isn’t velsinyte. The thought was like a violent smack to the face.
“Of course,” he whispered with a half laugh, then glanced over his shoulder, making sure no guards were after them yet.
“Everyone, take a step back,” Draevyn ordered. He raised his palm, summoning flame.
“You’re going to burn us alive now?” Riven sneered, as they all simultaneously did as they were told.
“Why would he do that if he told us to step back, you idiot?” Ren grumbled.
Jak sighed. “Can you all just shut the fuck up?”
Draevyn rolled his eyes. The fire curled through his fingers before pressing it slowly to the lock. The blaze chased and then merged with the shadows, coiling in, out and around the metal.
“Come on,” Draevyn whispered.
Everyone seemed to collectively hold their breath as the golden light illuminated their faces in the dungeon’s darkness.
The heat intensified as he pushed more power into his wriggling flames. The lock hissed and then began to warp before their eyes. In tandem with his rapid beating heart, molten iron dripped to the floor. And after a few tense seconds, the mechanism fell away, falling in a pile of sizzling metal.
It worked. It fucking worked.
“Holy Irah,” he breathed, pulling the door open.
“This is treason,” Jak said as he stepped out of the cell. “Prince or not, you’ll be hunted for this.”
Draevyn met Jak’s stare. “I already am.”
When all were freed, the crew of pirates stood clustered together.
“And what of everyone else?” Ren asked. “They couldn’t fit all our mortals in here with us.”
“Some of them are here?” Draevyn’s brows raised.
“Told ‘em we were shifters in hopes they’d fear us,” one said, gesturing to himself and another broad man.
Jak crossed his arms. “Aye, only Alec and Torin are here. The rest be in the other prison.”
Draevyn’s gaze raked over them all. Gods, he was really doing this, wasn’t he?
“A few of my crew are heading to Lephyrin’s prison as we speak and plan to break them free. They’re to meet us at my ship, Valor.”
They all gave a subtle nod as they warily glanced around.
“Let’s go get our girl, shall we?” Jak cracked his knuckles.
CRASH.
Everyone’s heads whipped toward the door as it violently slammed into the wall. The sound of boots thudding against stone erupted down the hall, followed by the bellowing voices of guards.
“Oye!” someone screamed. “The queen has been taken hostage. Lock down the castle. No one in or out!”
Draevyn’s stomach dropped, his throat tightening to the point of pain.
“What the hells did you do, Wildfire?” he whispered, his eyes widening.
Jak looked at him curiously with a raised brow, as if he put it together too.
The storming of boots echoed down the corridor.
“What do we do now?” Ren asked. “We’re trapped—”
“Shut up and run!” Riven growled, shoving forward. “You hear that? They’re coming!”
“No, we fight. We can make it through now that our magic is back,” Jak said.
“No.” Draevyn’s voice was stern, earning all of their attention.
“Where are the guards?” someone called from the dungeon’s door.
“That’s ash!” another voice sounded. “Is anyone down here?” The sound of unsheathing metal rang through the hall.
Fucking Irah.
Draevyn spun, head snapping toward the far end of the dungeons. His pulse roared in his ears. The corridor ahead was already flashing with torchlight, the shadows of guards closing in as they raced toward them.
“Come with me,” he ordered.
A ball of flame ignited above Draevyn’s palm as he sprinted toward the far wall of the dungeon, the others following after him.
His father often brought him down here for punishment, even sometimes leaving him down here for hours on end.
And one day, when his back pressed against a wall, it crumbled and cracked, giving way to a tunnel.
He often followed that crawl space out as a young boy, leading him out to the rivers, and eventually the sea.
Draevyn always assumed that was where his love for the sea stemmed from. It served as his escape even back then. But he now believed his love for the sea was never a choice of his own will at all as a pair of glacial eyes appeared in his mind.
They reached the end of the corridor, coming face-to-face with the stone wall.
“A dead end!” Jak bellowed, whirling on Draevyn. “Really, Phoenix?”
“Don’t let them get away!” a guard screamed as they chased.
Draevyn’s frantic gaze searched the wall, sweat licking up his back. “Move those crates!” he yelled, shoving an old barrel aside with a grunt. Behind it, the outline of the hidden doorway was just barely visible.
The crew didn’t hesitate, helping him clear the way as the stampede of boots grew closer.