Chapter 32
Rightful Claim
ROHEN
With my gaze trained on the spanning docks, I inhaled a breath filled with enchantment and espionage. My entire life had been spent underground, bowing to Malrik Ravelle’s demands and all it entailed to be “one of his.” I’d never had the privilege to venture far.
He never believed in the concept of freedom. It was a rule he enforced strictly, especially when it came to me. There had never been an instance in which I was granted the ability to explore, to sail the seas, and visit the other towns that made up the continent. Malrik knew I would run.
It wasn’t strictly an assumption; it was a previous attempt. I was certain he would beat the life out of me for it, and he nearly did.
That night sparked my wrath in a way I never previously knew possible.
Most of the rage I carried was because of Malrik, and I intended to repay him for everything he’d done to me.
For every rib he broke. For every punch he fractured my jaw with.
For the numerous knife wounds he left scattered along my abdomen.
And for the way he bent me over the table in front of the entire guild, raped me as a warning to the others, all before I received twenty-three lashings for what I’d done.
Twenty-three, because it had been my twenty-third birthday.
A hand settled on my shoulder, squeezing with a gentleness I’d never received from a man. As I glanced over my shoulder, a golden stare met mine, brows pinched together in what appeared to be concern.
“Everything okay?” Alastair asked, watching as his men made quick work of fastening the boat to the port.
Nipping at my cheek, I dipped my chin. “Yeah. Just got lost in thought is all.”
“Three days at sea will do that to you.” He nodded as if in understanding before leaning forward to whisper, “We all battle demons of some sort, but I feel you, and I may share a similar experience. If you ever need someone to talk to, let me know.”
Before I could reply—with refusal or acceptance, I wasn’t sure—he spun on his heel and made his way over to where the others waited for us.
Kael was to remain with the crew, the townsfolk of Veilmar far too familiar with his father’s greed.
According to the prince, the king had established a handful of faulty truces with them, backing out of nearly all of them when he desired something.
And while we weren’t incapable of managing suspicions of who we housed onboard, it was a risk that Alastair didn’t want to take while we hunted for Ellira’s Eye.
With a small, anonymous group, we were more likely to be left alone.
With an adamant gesture, Percy elected to stay behind. Alastair nodded and turned to glance back at me, offering a subtle dip of his chin.
You’re welcome to come with me.
A warmth bloomed in my chest, a softness settling over my heart at the unspoken words he offered, mixed with the genuineness in his gaze.
It was an extension I’d never heard uttered from a man’s lips, an open offer I never envisioned possible from someone of the opposite sex, mainly when my entire life entailed the opposite, from Malrik’s hands or another random stranger.
Caspian.
Why his name came to mind pissed me off.
He’d never touched me as every other male lingering in the shadows of my past had, with exploratory hands and lust-clouded minds.
But he robbed me of my only chance of slipping free from the collar Malrik had clasped around my throat, only to shackle me with one of his own.
It hadn’t been an assault on my body, but an attack on my mind.
It was his willingness to hand me off to his men as if they owned me, as if I didn’t belong to—
No, bitch, we aren’t doing this shit again.
Attempting to shake him from my thoughts—a task I knew was improbable—I moved from my perch against the banister to join Alastair.
Each of my footsteps seemed to carry a warning, subtle utterances from something that existed within me. It clashed with the tug I felt from the illuminated town lying before us, bubbling from the very depths I once believed housed my intuition.
Which only meant one thing: Ellira was still listening, still guiding my decisions, still… breathing down my neck.
Falling in step behind the captain and Leilani, I focused on the town as we approached, the entire harbor glowing as if the fusion of the Sea of Ellira and The Dark Ocean breathed color into it.
Lanterns hung from curved oak beams and silk-draped balconies, their glass bellies shifting in hue.
Amber melted into rose, rose faded to sea-green, which then transitioned to a deep sapphire.
Their reflections trembled across the water in long, rippling ribbons, turning gentle waves into liquid stained glass.
From the docks, wooden pathways curved and coiled along the water’s surface, winding between multi-tiered pavilions.
Domed roofs crowned each structure, ranging from midnight blue to deep violet to burnished copper.
Terraces spilled outward in soft arcs, stacked on one another in descending layers, so the entire city seemed to cascade toward the sea.
Accenting balconies and archways, heavy velvet fabric, draped in jewel tones, swayed freely in the salt-kissed breeze.
Some were gathered and pinned with gilded clasps, their ornate designs undeniably the work of a skilled hand.
That talent translated into each fold that gleamed with hidden threads, making it impossible to ignore their tactile richness.
Artistry.
While famed for its velvet pleasure houses, Veilmar was built by attentive eyes and curious minds.
Those living on the island harbored specialized talents that could undoubtedly raise questions in the eyes of those polluting the throne of Serevalen, many of which evolved around an act forbidden—magic.
Perhaps that was why it remained separated from the landmass the king ruled: the gods deemed the creativity etched into its streets and the power blooming from its shadows worthy of protection.
Yet, even in the same breath, there was something unknown that clung to its atmosphere. It was as if those inhabiting its colorful landscape carried far more knowledge than they dared let on, protecting whatever pulsed beneath their planked walkways and cobblestone streets.
Transitioning from the boarded trail into the innards of Veilmar, I admired the liveliness that continued to emanate from the towering structures beyond.
Homes and shops nestled against one another, each crafted with the same attentiveness that clung to every detail of the island.
Those lining the streets engaged in conversation, some positioned behind booths selling artwork or mystical services, others interacting with strangers who passed by as if they were familiar friends.
“Entranced?” Alastair whispered from beside me, a soft chuckle following.
“Would be an understatement.” I continued to observe every interaction, each pass off of coin, and the gazes that followed our movements.
“She’s observational, which is beneficial for us,” Leilani chimed in, her hand settled on the hilt of her weapon. “You could learn a few things from her, Ace.”
“Why need I be attentive when the two of you cover those bases for me?” His lips curled upward as a response to her glare. “Nonetheless, we have an island to scour, so I believe it’s best we get a move on. Yes?”
Prowling through the town square, I lingered on the outskirts, fixated on the ongoing conversations filtering through the afternoon bustle.
With my back pressed against a stone pillar, I remained in a state of observation.
The attire I wore—fitted trousers, an azure blouse with a black corset, and the black tricorn I’d stumbled across in the chest in my quarters—helped me blend in with the slew of tourists that had arrived shortly after us.
With Alastair having slipped away to cover the northern front of the market, and Leilani having made her way into the shops, I was alone.
For the first time in what felt like weeks, the blanket of expectation and subordination had slipped from me, and I finally felt like I could breathe.
It was simply my onlookers and me, probing eyes that contained a curiosity that spoke of a longing to create or a desire to own.
And while I wasn’t opposed to the former, there was no way in Ellira’s name that I was allowing another person to lay claim to me as if I were a mere possession.
Hooking my dagger beneath my nail, I scraped out a trail of dried blood—likely from the fun I’d had slaughtering Caspian’s men. With a huffed exhale and a smirk, I contemplated leaving, running away from Alastair and his crew to establish a life of my own as far away from Serevalen as I could get.
Before I could settle on anything finite, that all-too-familiar sensation of a new, curious gaze drew my attention.
But unlike the others, it slithered beneath my skin and settled in my bones, forcing me to glance up from under the brim of my hat.
Without having to lock eyes with who it belonged to, that ancient essence stirring in my blood carried a warning: they did not belong to our world, or any for that matter.
Vibrant blue irises met mine, but where whites should’ve been, all that existed was a soulless black. The veins lining her skin seemed to dull with the same inky shadows, and as soon as she smiled, a pulsating ache settled in my chest.
Palm flattening against the cylindrical tower, I failed to draw a breath.
It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, no beating of Malrik’s comparable to whatever power she held.
Only intensifying as she approached, her heels clipped the cobblestone with a century-old weight that demanded respect.
Unable to manage the onslaught her essence had on mine, the sheer wave of darkness she emanated slammed into me, and I stumbled back into the alcove, its backsplash of oak catching me before I could collapse.
“Interesting,” she hummed, cocking her head to the side, only for a slightly pointed ear to slip out from beneath her soot colored hair.
Opening my mouth to reply, her metallic claw settled beneath my chin.
The jewelry dangling from the ring covering her nail chimed with warning, and the near-lilac hue of her skin only ignited unspoken words of caution.
Tongue unfurling between her black painted lips, she was quick to flick it against her sharpened canine.
“W-Who are you?” I whispered, agony cinching down on my heart mercilessly.
“No one of pertinence.” Leaning forward, scars became visible.
Running along the left side of her face, traversing the bridge of her nose and her jawline, they carried a tale that spoke the opposite of what she offered.
“Tell me, Daughter of Ellira, are you familiar with the intricate details that cocoon the man you’ve recently spent time with? ”
“Alastair—” Affliction ignited, silencing me.
“You know exactly who I am asking of, human.”
“I-I…”
“The man whom you cannot seem to rid your thoughts of, the man who plagues your dreams and haunts your every move?” she crooned, the words seeming to blend together like a riddle. “Mizani.”
The single word drew up recollections of my dream with Ellira. At the remembrance, a searing fire crawled up my sternum, igniting my throat in a way that felt as if I were burning alive from the inside out.
“I should kill you,” she hummed, her finger trailing down my neck before all five closed around it.
“As revenge for what your Mizani did to me, but it seems I have run into a bit of a conflict of interest, considering you are the child of the prophecy. The one who is supposed to weave our world back together as one.”
“I-I don’t… I’m not—”
“Right. Your mother warned me you were still living in a state of denial, but do not be fooled, Daughter of the Sea, the Damned do not lie. The veil separating the halves of a whole awaits your awakening, and I’d highly suggest you start working on that,” she squeezed my throat with emphasis, “before we are all turned to ash.”
Ripping away from me, the pain immediately vanished. Knees slamming against cobblestone, I struggled to draw in a breath, a slew of coughs wracking my frame from her onslaught.
“Secondly, I cannot kill you because you are about to find yourself at a reunion.”
“Reunion?” I snarled, my knuckles whitening around the hilt of my dagger. “What the fuck are you on about, you psycho bitch?”
With a simple rotation of her wrist, she raised two fingers and grinned. As if on cue, a bell chimed across the island, a sound that undeniably signaled the approach of… something.
“You may be able to run Rohen Levitte, but you will never be able to hide. Not from a man like Caspian Vayne.” With a resounding laugh, she took a step back, slipping out of the alcove as if she hadn’t just threatened to kill me. “He has arrived to claim what is rightfully his.”