Chapter 27
Onboard Lethality
KAEL
The storm and ensuing chaos that Alastair had informed us of hadn’t disturbed our sleep. It seemed that no longer being beneath my father’s watchful eye had granted Percival and me an unexpected peace, though something continued to stir deep within me that I couldn’t quite place.
Rubbing my eyes with my palms, a lengthened groan escaped me. A yawn was quick to follow, my mind and body muddled because I’d finally, for the first time in my life, slept longer than two hours at one time. Scratching at the freshly grown stubble on my jaw, I lifted my gaze to Percival.
With his bare back to me, I was able to admire the breadth of his shoulders.
Scars littered every inch of his bronze skin, their patterns hinting at varying lacerations, some whip, others knife.
Running along them and down the entire length of his spine, the inked version of his sword nestled perfectly between his shoulder blades.
Each raven perched on either side of the steel held secrets of his lineage that even I had yet to learn.
Before I could analyze its intricate hilt, he pivoted on his heel to face me.
Offering me a cheeky grin, he scratched the side of his neck, fingers disappearing beneath his disheveled locks.
The golden beams drying the deck filtered through the circular window of the decently sized galley, their radiant tendrils freckling his emerald stare.
Extending a mug to me, he lifted a brow. “Coffee?”
“Where did you—?”
He jutted a thumb over his shoulder to the coppers; two large kettles positioned on the stove. “Alastair was adamant about us ‘making ourselves at home,’ so that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“By Ellira’s grace, Percy,” I grumbled, the smile on my lips telling a different story. “You realize he isn’t just any man, right? Or has it slipped your mind that we are sailing with—”
A deep hum came from the door to my right. “A criminal? A pirate?”
Leaning against its frame, Alastair folded his arms over his chest. The damp clothing he’d greeted us with when we rose had been swapped for a fresh pair of linens, the light-weight cream tunic hanging loosely from his muscular frame.
Dark breeches rested on his hips, both of them adorned with the weapons of his choice: an intricate cutlass on his right and a dark sword on his left that pulsed with unexplainable energy.
“Go on, Prince, finish your statement.”
A lump suddenly formed in my throat, the sensation unlike anything I’d experienced before.
Even seated beside my father, there hadn’t been any instance in which he’d instilled an ounce of genuine fear in me, because I’d promised myself that, after the age of twelve, when he beat me beyond recognition, I would never grant him that privilege again.
But Alastair Seridean was… different.
“He didn’t mean any harm by—”
The pirate held up his hand, his golden glare shifting momentarily to the man I loved. “I don’t believe I requested your reply.”
When silence welcomed him, he turned his attention back to me, and I fixated on anything other than the demand he’d uttered.
My gaze fixated on the mix of powdered blue, navy, and coppered gold beads woven into a handful of his strawberry blonde locks.
A burnt-orange bandana tamed his loose waves, which fell just above his shoulders, their near-auburn hue blending with his manicured beard.
An array of earrings decorated his ears, a trail of hoops running up his left ear, and a hanging dagger swinging from his right.
While his sharp features were entrancing, the gods having graced him with perfect symmetry, they weren’t what forced my breath to still in my chest. No, it was the undeniable branding of the royal crest that came into view as he craned his head to the side, the serpentine creature glaring into my soul from its perch on the right side of his neck.
The words came from me before I could stop them. “You bear the marking of the crown.”
Striations danced across his jawline, and the tip of his cutlass settled against my throat without him so much as shifting his stance.
Lips curling into a sneer, he started to speak, but the sound of steel gliding against metal cut him off.
Within a blink, the vibrant gleam of a sharpened edge of a kitchen cleaver rested against his throat.
“I suggest you sheath your weapon,” Percival whispered from his position beside Alastair.
The corners of the pirate’s mouth lifted. “Ah, someone idiotic enough to test my patience. I don’t know if I should be insulted or flattered, Royal Guard.”
“He has a name,” I quipped, my tone carrying irrefutable annoyance.
“Oh, does he?” his brows dropped to hood his building glower. “As if I have any interest or care in the matter—”
“Alastair Seridean!”
Rounding the corner, a petite woman came into view, easily a foot shorter than the man who was threatening to kill me for my mere observation of factuality.
Clad in a loose, long-sleeved linen blouse that’d been cropped to reveal her abdomen, the quality of the twinned leather straps of her belt—one cinched around her hips and the other around her waist—became easily admirable.
A silken version of Alastair’s bandana rested beneath the lower of the two, clashing against her dark breeches that were adorned with matching leather accents.
Her thick, dark curls tumbled to her waist, contrasted beautifully against her honeyed skin.
Mocha eyes greeted me first with an apologetic glint before they settled on Alastair, a disapproving scowl replacing it. “What in Ysalyne’s name are you doing?”
He released a groan. “Why must you always interfere, little fang?”
“Why must I always have to intercept your wavering temper? Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t you enlighten me?” Her hand settled on his wrist, her fingers unable to even close around its girth. “I will not utter an ask, Alastair Seridean.”
As soon as the last sentence left her rosy lips, he lowered the sword.
Percival followed suit, setting the cleaver back on the table.
Even with its sharpened edge removed, Alastair’s glare remained, penetrating my soul with an intensity that matched, if not surpassed, his displayed desire to carve into my flesh.
Sliding the weapon back where it belonged, he gazed at the woman once more, and something within him softened.
They stared at each other for a handful of seconds that felt a little too long before she elected to pull away. Turning toward me once more, she offered a friendly smile. “I apologize for him; he happens to run a bit hot ninety percent of the time.”
“I do not—”
The raising of her hand cut him off. “I’m Leilani Kapule, theoretically the second in command on this ship, but as you just witnessed, I’m the one who runs things around here.”
“Isn’t Alastair the captain of this ship?” I questioned, hoping to earn some form of acceptance in addressing his title.
“Yes,” she crooned, the corners of her mouth curling mischievously. “But good boys know when to kneel.”
Percival choked on his coffee, fumbling to raise his arm in time to prevent any of it from spewing between his lips. “Ave Seirdra,” he mumbled.
I grinned at his commentary, refusing to pull my gaze away from the woman who’d not only just identified herself but humiliated Seridean in the process. “I suppose you’d be correct in that matter.”
The singular word came from Alastair and Percy simultaneously. “Enough.”
Leilani released a laugh that seemed to breathe life into the room. “I think we will get along just fine, Prince.”
“Kael,” I replied. “Please, call me Kael.”
“Well, Kael,” she emphasized with the unspoken promise that she’d respect my request. “Welcome to the Scarlet Tempest."
“What do you mean you just found her?” I asked, sweeping over the unconscious woman once more.
Her vibrant ruby hair was still damp, confirming the crew's claim that they had found her at sea.
The rest of her body was dry, not a drop of water clinging to her clothing.
I presumed the blue tunic she wore, along with the light brown breeches perfectly fitted to her lean thighs, had been gifted to her by the woman who stood beside me.
But none of those observations were why my attention remained so honed in on her appearance. No, it was because I knew in the marrow of my bones that I’d seen her somewhere.
Why is she so fucking familiar?
“That storm we sailed through?” Leilani started, leaning against the wall.
“Apparently, it spat us out along the coast of Thornebay just shy of Darswyth. I have no clue how exactly, considering the allotted sail time from deep within The Blooming Tide to here should’ve taken twelve days to complete. We did it in one.”
“Wait, what?” Percy questioned, the comment drawing forth the concern I hadn’t vocalized. “How is that even possible?”
“It’s not.” Alastair drummed his fingers along the hilt of his sword. “Well, it shouldn’t be. It seems the gods were determined to get us here, whether to find her or to put us closer to the treasure, we aren’t sure.”
“The Eyes of Ellira.” My words came as a mere mutter.
“Eye,” Alastair corrected, everyone’s attention snapping toward him.
“What in the gods’ names are you talking about?” Leilani’s booted foot nudged against the wall as she pushed herself from it, that irrefutable glower returning. “What secrets have you been keeping?”
“Not secrets. I needed confirmation.”
“What’s the fucking confirmation?” she snapped, her voice rising.
Without an audible reply, he merely pointed at the woman on the cot.
“Her?” Leilani jutted a finger into the center of his chest. “What the hell are you on about?”
He grabbed her wrist, forcing her palm flat on his sternum. “If you’re that aggravated with me, then carve my heart from my chest, little fang. I told you it belongs to you, and I meant that utterance with every ounce of my essence.”
Tearing herself free from his hold, she shook her head. “Now is not the time for this, Ace. We have far graver things on our hands. Not only this woman whom Ellira seemed to hand off to us, but whatever the fuck you’ve been up to.”
“She came from Caspian’s ship,” he offered, lifting a single finger as Leilani went to reply.
“Before you jump down my throat again, let me finish.” Waiting briefly, he only resumed once she released an aggravated sigh.
“The reason I know such a fact is because of the wood we found her on. That dark oak does not belong to any other pirate crew, let alone those who sail with the royal crest, because Caspian fucking Vayne threatened to execute anyone idiotic enough to copy him. Thankfully enough, it seemed to be a plank stored on board for repair. I’m unsure how or why she snagged it, but I could give a fuck less about the nuances when it points to the fucker still being alive. ”
“And who is Caspian—”
I interrupted Percival before he had the chance to ask. “One of the most deadly pirates on the sea. He’s worked with my father. I haven’t met him directly, only in passing, but he certainly is all the rumors have made him out to be.”
“Yeah? Did your father happen to inform you that he used to be my best friend?” Alastair’s tongue trailed across his teeth, a deep-seated wrath flaring in his golden stare.
“That motherfucker betrayed me years ago and nearly killed me. He turned his back on me when we both bear the royal crest, just as he is the reason you caught me in those godsawful hallways of the palace that was once your home—”
“That place was never my home,” I snarled, my nails biting into the flesh of my biceps. “And it never will be. My father is a sinister fuck who I will never and have never followed faithfully.”
“Regardless, she was on Caspian’s ship. And, with the uncanny way we found her, I believe she has deep ties with the goddess of the seas.”
“And you know that how?” I questioned, ignoring the agitation that peppered every syllable.
“Because I was told something about Caspian Vayne. By whom? I cannot disclose.” A soft chuckle rolled from his throat, the darkness that consumed his irises in the galley returning.
“Apparently, your father tossed him over the edge of a ship when we were young, and what was once sky blue morphed into crimson. The reason his eyes shifted, alongside his demeanor and thirst for power, is that one of Ellira’s eyes was in the cove.
The only reason Caspian is alive is because of the goddess who blesses our sails.
The essence of the ruby lives within him, which means—”
“If your assumptions about her are correct…” Leilani whispered, her eyes glancing over at the woman. “That would mean, based on old folklore, that she is a Marked Daughter, and Caspian is drawn to her because of her soulbound ties to Ellira.”
“And why do you believe he is drawn to her in that manner? He could merely be intrigued by her. I mean, she’s gorgeous.” Percy’s voice rolled from behind me, his utterance an inherent fact.
“Because…” Alastair hummed, tucking his hands in his pockets as he walked further into the room. Positioning himself at the edge of the bed, he kept his back to us. “Caspian Vayne chases after no one, but he was hunting for her with a desperation that contradicts everything he is.”
Metal sang, and a dagger was removed from his waistline in a flash. An ethereal voice rolled through the cabin, one that could’ve easily been equated to a siren’s lure.
“Whoever the fuck you are, and however the fuck you know Caspian Vayne… I want him dead.”