CHAPTER NINE
Brightness swelled in brilliant saffron-red hues, heat billowing through the trees in unbearable gusts as we trampled through Plumsu Island’s exit.
Flames engulfed the pristine white warship that sank in a gradual creep beneath the water, gilded armored soldiers thrashing in the deep toward Zahara’s ship.
The Royal Vanguard.
Metal clanged through the brisk air, clashing in combat.
Zahara and Jun.
I dove head first into the ocean, muscles shifting under my skin with a tingle that merged into a sleek, seamless tail. The pain accompanying my mutilated ankle vanished, physical relief flooding my system.
Void darkness enveloped me, my merfolk eyes adjusting sluggishly, the transforming gills sipping air in small swallows.
Scales along my skin rippled through the water, announcing their comforting presence.
I propelled, my tail pushing through the murky sea and launched myself through the surface.
Gripping the ship’s railing, I plummeted over, crashing onto the deck as my tail split into my land form, agony returning through my left ankle.
A Royal Vanguard soldier lunged unnoticed as I fumbled to stand, throwing me over the banister, plunging back toward the inky water below.
Before I could crash into the sea, a sudden, warm essence encased me—Noctis’s magic, unseen and steady.
It caught me midair, embracing my whole being and lifting gently onto the deck, setting me down in an unoccupied area.
Invasive.
The god settled forcefully before me, rage stifling the air in his presence. He unsheathed the two long swords from across his back between his fiery feathered wings hugging his form. The muscles beneath the netted, transparent shirt rippled.
“You always forget your left side. Don’t this time.
Especially with your ankle,” he shot over his shoulder.
He bolted toward the approaching modest army—ten royal soldiers on board; however, six of them laid out in puddles of their own blood across the main deck, and many others floated the ocean's surface.
Their gilded armor encased them, helmets featuring narrow slits across the front. Glinting rays of reflected sunshine pierced the air, surely a tactic to blind the opponents the Royal Vanguard fought.
Carnage lay ahead, raw, violent, and stained with ruin. My eyes searched for Jun and Zahara through the piles of bodies, begging and praising as I scanned and did not find them.
A blessing I couldn’t make out the carcasses’ lifeless eyes through the helms; however, I did make out their soft spots.
Armpits. Throat.
Metal clashed at my right beyond the helm, and I spun.
The soldiers circled Jun in cocky, vengeful silence, then their swords collided with a thunderous ring.
Jun clutched his side, his other arm lifting his blade in desperate defense.
The first soldier viciously swung his katana aiming for Jun’s ribs, the metal skimming through his clothing and slicing the skin beneath.
I limped forward as if chased by a creeping dread, my sopping wet clothing sticking uncomfortably to my body.
The dagger in my palm twisted instinctively, the other gripping the railing.
Dull pain hummed through my jaw as I clenched my teeth through the pain that clawed its serrated nails through me.
I would reach him. I would save him like it was my life’s only goal.
I was so close, yet so far away.
“What a disgrace you are,” the first soldier spat and brought the sword down on the hooded male. But Jun blocked it with his own weapon, his body shuddering under the pressure and torment it endured.
The snarling soldier shoved the blade down until he came nose-to-nose with Jun. His metallic hand lifted and shoved the cloak from Jun’s scarred head. Jun’s hand reached to cover his head—his dignity—but the soldier shoved further.
“Your own father disowned you. Hell, he ordered us to kill you with our own hands,” the guard said, bitter and low. Soft on the tongue, yet sharp on the heart; the furrowed brow proved that the soldier’s words left wounds on Jun’s heart that no shouting could rival.
The second guard threw his fist into Jun’s side. Additional ribs cracked, echoing through the chaos like the shattered branches beneath the Threnai’s hairy legs.
Only a few more feet.
Jun bellowed but held firm to his long sword, blocking the next strike.
I slipped unheard behind the nearest guard and drove my blade with ruthless precision between the narrow slit of his helm and the vulnerable gap in his back plate.
The blade dropped with the Royal Vanguard soldier, falling away from Jun’s face as he collapsed.
Just like when I met the assassin myself, blade to nose through a Tide Reaper instead.
Our eyes briefly met, and he nodded in appreciation. The second guard whirled on me.
“Oh, the sacrifice!” he howled with pleasure through the helm, a gravel-choked voice scratching against his throat. “The bounty on your head…”
He barreled into me, and the world spun as we toppled over each other, rolling across the floor in a blur of motion and impact.
The soldier landed on top, his legs pinning my arms down, so I couldn’t fight back.
The first punch he delivered to my cheek knocked my rearing head into the floor with a crack, skin instantly splitting on impact.
The next three landed in quick succession, each one blurring the edges of my vision.
Blood gushed from the open wounds on my face, warmth seeping over my skin like viscous honey.
Arms gripped the shoulders of the golden armored male and threw him overboard in one swift movement. Jun. His bloodied arm cradled across his abdomen, holding the demolished bones in place.
He met my eyes as I nodded slightly and limped back into the onslaught, sword at ready in his free hand.
Noctis ran toward me, frantically searching every inch of my body, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling it pushed on me.
Crimson spots peppered his skin, a sheen cast of sweat dripping into the red and diluting it as it ran down his body.
He leaned close, voice low and careful, and I caught the way his brow furrowed, the slight tremor in his hands, and it made my chest tighten.
Somehow, his concern was as heavy as any pain I’d felt.
Damn my body.
“I’m so sorry.” His fingers lightly trailed my aching jaw. His eyes met every gash and darkening bruise marring my face, tracking every twitch, every shallow breath.
“I’m fine. Go find Zahara and Calvin,” I replied as I lifted myself up, the blaze of shattered bone slicing through my ankle.
I needed to know they were safe.
The god gently placed his calloused hand under my elbow for support, but I abruptly pulled away.
“Go,” I repeated. “Please.”
There was no time for his romantic declarations. Or want.
Two guards remained on deck. One circled Jun, and the other advanced on Noctis and I.
The god sent a blast of his powers careening into the male storming toward us, dust rushing along with it, and the guard’s head rotated with a sickening snap before he fell limp on the wooden beams.
Jun pulled his sword from the body of the last soldier and slumped to the ground in exhaustion.
“Did I really miss all the fun?” a soaking wet Calvin asked as he took in the destruction.
“Where is Zahara?” I muttered, dread creeping into my voice.
But Jun only looked around frantically.
“The cargo hold. She went there last for spare rigging.”
Noctis offered his shoulder, eyes desperate and hurried. There was no time for hesitancy, my own glare piercing and flaring before I accepted the help.
The hatch to the lower deck loomed, and Jun threw it open, plunging down the narrow steps with us at his back.
I barely caught myself on the handrail and used it to ease the pain from my shattered ankle.
The floorboards protested like secrets forced out through clenched teeth.
Lanternlight flickered in the corridor, casting shadows that stretched and snapped with the rocking of the ship.
Jun slammed into the door of the cargo hold with both palms, breath ragged, grunts furious and ravenous.
Zahara knelt in the grasp of a suited, unarmored man, his sword pressed cold and steady against her throat.
“Father,” Jun whispered, like a secret slipped.
“You’re up to something. Tell me now or she dies,” the male seethed.
Jun and his father shared similar physical characteristics—the onyx hair that fell over his forehead, the pale skin, and the same eyes that bore assessing into a person.
There was no mistaking their family resemblance, even though Jun looked like he wanted nothing more than to eradicate the man from his life.
No one responded. I wished to freeze my pounding heart, afraid a simple beat would drive the blade across our captain’s neck.
Jun’s father continued. "Convenient, isn't it? One of my Oricaans just happen to go down at the same time and place this pathetic little ship shows up in harbor. So, tell me, son. What exactly are you up to? Because I won’t hesitate to end it. For her,” he seethed, shoving Zahara forward. “For you. For everyone on this boat."
Calvin stepped forward, his hands out in surrender. “We had nothing to do with that incident. Now let her go, Raoku. Please.” The exchange jarred me to see him like that—no sarcasm, no grin—just raw desperation as he begged.
“I don’t believe it!” The bellow from Jun’s father made his son sink backward, fear etching his features. He pulled the hood across his head tighter.
Zahara lifted her nose to the male, even as the sword rested on her throat. She didn’t speak, but she was fury and defiance in human form, holding her ground like stone.
“I killed its puppet,” I stated confidently, stepping forward. Never would I allow anyone to die on my behalf. “It was killing innocents, so I killed it.”
Noctis’s gaze shot toward me, bewildered and terrified. He edged closer, positioning himself slightly before me, as if he would take any attack that came next in my stead.
Jun’s father slowly dragged his gaze to me, recognition seeping in as his lips tilted in a smug grin.
“Ah. We’ve been looking for you. Except I don’t believe that was the only plan you all had. Or else you wouldn’t be here,” Raoku said slowly. He stood like the world owed him space—shoulders squared, spine straight, every inch of him radiating control.
“Don’t,” Zahara spoke, but the man only gripped her hair tighter and yanked her head toward him.
“I’ll go back. Just let them go,” Jun cut in, the first words he said to his father, and they shook, trembling under the scrutiny and fear of his sire.
The male laughed, a husky, dry chuckle that simmered rage beneath my skin. Warmth spread across my bones as if nerve endings were being awakened, my fingers tingling as the fury rose.
"You think this world owes you a place? It doesn’t. And neither do I,” his father’s words hit Jun like a physical blow, buckling the male I’d just seen throw an armored soldier overboard a ship in one movement. “Tell me what you’re planning, and I’ll let her go.”
Zahara’s eyes begged us to keep quiet, but Calvin couldn’t. He looked at Zahara with such anguish as the blade threatened to slit her throat.
“The trident, Raoku. We are searching for the trident,” he blurted.
Zahara’s face fell in defeat. Her entire body slammed into the wooden planks, and Raoku sheathed his blade at the hip.
Noctis stepped forward, black swirling power ghosting around his frame. “You’re not leaving these quarters,” he snarled.
Raoku shot him a feline smirk. “And who’s going to stop me?
You? My failed son?” His arm shot out toward a flinching Jun, and the man smiled as if enjoying the way his son cowered in his presence.
“His freakishly scared, tattling friend? Or the woman at my feet?” He huffed in annoyance, his head shaking side to side.
The god forged his power into a weapon, divine wrath coalescing in his hands.
But before the strike could fall, a blinding light exploded through the quarters.
Sharp, endless, all-consuming. I threw up my arms to shield my eyes, but it was useless.
The light burned through, searing my vision, my mind, my very sense of place.
And when it dissipated, Jun’s father was gone.