Chapter 14
Deadly Poison
CASPIAN
Nudging the all-too-familiar door open, the sharp chime from overhead served as confirmation of my idiocy.
Not only had I diverted us from our original path by days, but I had set foot in boiling water—in a jurisdiction that was far from where I belonged, and in a metaphysical shop that belonged to a woman who loathed me.
Hell, I couldn’t even blame her. The last time we’d seen one another I’d nearly destroyed her livelihood and killed her in the process.
A chilling bite curled around my side, nails digging into the stitched wound Rohen had left behind. Breath graced my neck, each articulation filled with venom. “Caspian Vayne. The bastard. What the fuck are you doing here?”
Hissing between clenched teeth, I quickly pivoted, my fingers meeting her throat as I shoved her against the wall.
She wasted no time responding in kind, the sharpened tip of one of her metallic claw rings digging into my jugular.
Where white would usually exist in one's glower, inky black consumed hers, the vibrant blue of her irises all-encompassing—all knowing.
Dark veins extended from her sockets, sprawling across her near-lilac skin in varying directions.
The molten skin on the left side of her face served as a reminder of our most recent encounter, scarring the bridge of her nose, down her jawline, and a few inches from her left, slightly pointed ear.
Various silver hoops adorned her cartilage, paired daggers hanging from her lobes to match the manufactured talons she wore on her left hand.
Their vibrant sheen clashed with her dark black hair, the strands straight and not a single one out of place.
She was beautifully haunting, stunning in a way that was equally deadly.
Her shoulders were crowned with layered pauldrons, etched with swirling motifs that resembled feathers.
Sheer, shadowed-black fabric draped from her arms and sides, adding a ghostlike quality to her movements.
The material’s texture was a see-through filigree, making it nearly impossible to decipher where flesh ended and began.
Adding to her sultry allure, the fitted corset bodice hugged her curves, subtle metal boning reinforcing its deep charcoal hue.
Ornate clasps adorned its front, connecting pieces of leather similar to the strands lining her breasts.
Neckline dipping in a sharp, deliberate plunge, and framed by a heavy, sculptural pendant at her sternum, I found it impossible not to settle my attention there.
Sooty-colored lips curled into a sneer. “Do you wish to die here?”
“I suppose it depends on which manner,” I crooned, my tongue trailing over my canines. “If it entails anything involving those thighs of yours, I would take you up on your offer.”
Scoffing, her glower deepened. “What do you want, Captain Vayne?”
“What else would I be here for, Morwenna Duskryn? Or would you prefer I call you Wenny? Like the good—” I blew out a breath between clenched teeth as she pierced my flesh. “Fucking hell. Fine. Would you believe me if I told you I just wished to see your beautiful face?”
“Liar.” Her hum rolled forward, deep and enchanting as she planted a kiss on my stubble-lined jaw. “You are a liar, Caspian. I smelt it the moment you walked in and confirmed it with a mere touch. You’re here because of a copper-haired woman, aren’t you?”
Nipping at the inside of my cheek, I narrowed my gaze. “If you are already aware of what I want, then why waste your own time?”
“What if I simply do not wish to tell you? To leave you pondering until you coil fresh rope around your throat and hang yourself? That is much more appealing than enlightening you on what your future holds.”
Raising her hand, she snapped twice, and the sound of wings followed. Her esteemed familiar came to nestle on her shoulder—a full-grown raven with a stare as piercing as hers. Its head dipped to the side as it examined me, a gurgling croak escaping from its throat.
“It seems Ebon agrees.” Unbothered by my continued pressure around her neck, she curled her clawed fingers beneath the bird's chin and scratched gently. “I have nothing to offer you, Caspian Vayne.”
“Not even if my blood comes into the negotiation?”
She paused, her reaction mirroring every other instance I’d offered my lineage—a familial line even I wasn’t familiar with. Throughout the years I’d visited her, I still hadn’t figured out why she was so drawn to the sticky crimson substance, but it always seemed to spark intrigue.
Inhaling deeply, her aqua gaze met mine. “How much?”
“What do you need?”
“That’s a dangerous question, Caspian Vayne.”
“How much do you fucking need, Morwenna?”
“The cravings, they’re—”
“Answer my godsdamned question!” I shouted, my palm slapping the wall beside her head. “You tell me how much, and I will see what I can do.”
“A chalice.”
“For drinking?”
She dipped her chin.
“Then get your dagger. I don’t have any more time to waste.”
The sharp clang of our swords flooded the beachfront, solidifying the predicament I’d placed my crew in as a result of my idiotic curiosity.
We’d been followed, and while I wasn’t surprised, it didn’t lessen how hard I was kicking myself for allowing Rohen fucking Levitte to drive me mad enough to visit Morwenna.
She’d happily taken my life force, the bandage coiled around my palm, something I knew Syoran would scold me for, but my offering had earned me a continued chance at life and a thirteen-word answer to what I’d asked.
Why am I so enthralled by Rohen Levitte?
Her utterance settled in the back of my mind without any true clarity, serving as a reminder of my failure to ask her about the journals. “Like you, she is born of the Damned—Ellira. You two are Mizani.”
I had a feeling she had been cradled by the Goddess of the Sea. But Mizani? What the fuck did that even—
“Caspian Vayne,” Malrik snarled, the venomous bite his words intended to inflict drawing nothing more than a grin from me.
Through gritted teeth, I pushed back, my sword shrilling down the length of his. “Malrik Ravelle,” I seethed, my shoulders rising and falling with each rapid breath. “By what grace do I owe the pleasantries for your unwarranted appearance?”
A black bandana held back his lapis hair, numerous strands woven into tight braids.
Settling just below his chest, beads clung to its length—a variety of gold, royal purple, and black.
Dark facial hair lined his jaws and cheeks, and the scar, traversing from just below his right eye to the corner of his mouth, seemed to stand out against his olive skin.
“Unwarranted?” he laughed, our blades clashing again. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”
Pivoting, the rough edge of my weapon pinned his steel before diverting it.
With a simple tug, I sent his protection sailing, watching as its tip burrowed itself in a patch of sand yards away from us.
The hilt of my esteemed saber danced between my fingers as I spun it back into its preferred position, its sharpened end coming to rest beneath his chin.
“Perhaps, if you didn’t want anyone purchasing this ‘someone’ you speak of, you shouldn’t have let her slip behind the door of Seirdra’s Veil.
Regulations do not exist where the gods lay claim, even if the Others try to deem otherwise.
As far as I’m concerned, Leader of Assassins, you’re a bit far from the comfort of Serevalen.
On the sea and among the waves, no law requires me to return her to you, especially considering I paid a hefty amount of coin to ensure she was mine.
” The corner of my mouth curled into a sneer as I pressed the metal deeper into his skin.
“Let this be a lesson to value what you have before it slips from your grasp, and, if I have any other piece of advice, I’d maybe suggest getting off your ass when you see your bitch engaging with someone you despise.
You know, so you can keep entertaining your pathetic excuse of a prick with her cunt? ”
He growled, reaching for the short blade on his hip.
Once it was free, he swung in my direction, hell-bent on inflicting harm.
Rocking back onto my heels, I narrowly avoided its refined point, the breeze of his attack the only thing to caress my skin.
As he angled it toward me once more, the sunlight glinted against its mocking design, revealing the unnatural yellow hue coating its deadly end.
Poison.
“You wish to dance with Elaros?” He spun his blade, securing it with an unwavering overhand hold as his near-white eyes pulsed with malice. “Fine by me.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, grounding myself with the iron tang that rolled forward. “Oh? You like to play dirty? Now you’re speaking my language, Ravelle.”
“Perhaps,” he crooned, his back foot slipping behind him. “Though I hope for your sake you have an herbalist on board. It would be a shame if the renowned and feared crew of The Bloodmarked lost their captain to something as pathetically minimal as a scratch—”
My foot collided with the center of his chest, halting his failed taunt.
I watched as the uneven earth shifted beneath him, his weight sinking further than he could correct.
Before he even realized he’d lost his balance, his back collided with the sand, robbing his lungs of oxygen and providing me with just enough time to act.
I turned, sheathing my sword in the same breath as I scoured the docks we’d ported at.
Only a handful of yards away, the ebony ship I called home came into view, its shadowed sails of silk beckoning for my return.
In the crow’s nest on the main mast, someone observed the situation I’d found myself in from afar and, without hesitation, extended their arm overhead to reveal a red flag.
A warning sign for departure. They’d finished restocking for our next voyage.
“Fucking Saph.”