Chapter 32 Nerina
Nerina
The Black Marrow
“Rion?”
The name tore from my throat before I could swallow it back, raw and disbelieving. My palms stung as I pushed myself off the deck, splinters biting into my skin. The world tilted—blood and salt choked the air, the scream of steel on steel ringing in my skull.
The same hard lines of his jaw. Only now his hair was a pale banner, unbound and whipping in the wind, and his eyes…
colder. Harder. The man who had smuggled me through the alleys of Shadeau, who washed Silver Salt from my arms, who helped me secure the Eye of Nareth, was here—trading blows with Alaric like they meant to kill each other.
I staggered forward, the ship lurching beneath me, every instinct screaming to pull them apart.
He caught sight of me between swings, a flicker of joy cutting through the bloodlust in his face.
"Sirena!" His voice was maddeningly warm for a man who had just been trying to kill Alaric.
He parried one last blow from Alaric, then stepped back as if the fight had only been a friendly spar. The corner of his mouth tipped up in a smirk, eyes sweeping over me like he was cataloging every detail, every change since the last time we met.
“Miss me?” he added, almost in jest.
Before I could answer—or before Alaric could cut him down—Rion gave a harsh whistle.
The sound cut through the commotion and every Covenant fighter stilled. Swords hovered mid-swing, shields locked in place, the entire deck frozen except for the creak of timber and the pant of ragged gasps.
Alaric’s chest heaved, blade still angled toward Veyrion’s throat. His eyes flicked from me to him and back again, confusion flashing as the edge in his grip.
“Sirena?” Alaric repeated, the word tasting wrong on his tongue. “Care to explain why the bastard trying to gut me is calling you that?”
I opened my mouth, but Rion beat me to it, his grin deepening like this was some private joke.
“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” he said lightly, eyes never leaving mine. “I’m hurt, Sirena. I thought what we had meant something.”
“What you had—?” Alaric’s voice was low, dangerous, but there was something else beneath it. Not just fury.
All around, the Covenant crew stood silent and waiting, weapons still drawn but unmoving, holding their breath for what would come next.
Alaric didn’t lower his sword. “Start talking, Nerina. Now.” His voice was flat, but I could feel the storm building under it.
Veyrion tilted his head like a man watching two predators circle. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, old friend. We’ve met before, your mermaid and I. Had a drink, shared a few secrets…” His smile turned dangerous. “She’s better company than you ever were.”
Alaric’s jaw flexed, his knuckles whitening on the hilt. “You stay the hell away from her.”
“Bit late for that,” Veyrion murmured, his eyes on me now—pulling, testing. “Besides, she came to me.”
“That true?” Alaric’s question hit me like a blade between the ribs. There was more in it than doubt—there was hurt.
I swallowed, their attention closing in from both sides. The smell of blood, the creak of the ship, the frozen standoff of two crews—all of it faded under the truth I couldn’t say here, not with both of them waiting to tear each other apart over it.
My throat tightened. It wasn’t true… but it wasn’t not true either.
“It’s not like I went looking for him,” I said, my voice steady even as my pulse hammered. “But when I needed help, he helped. And bought me dinner...”
Alaric’s expression darkened, something raw flickering across his face—hurt, disbelief, maybe even betrayal. “And you didn’t think to mention that to me?”
The deck between them felt like a no-man’s-land, blood pooling in the seams of the wood. Veyrion was smiling faintly.
“You weren’t exactly listening to me the last time I tried to tell you about Shadeau,” I shot back, heat creeping into my voice.
Alaric flinched—just barely—but I caught it.
“Well,” Veyrion said, taking a slow step closer, “now that we’re all caught up…”
The deck was still, but it wasn’t quiet.
Alaric stepped forward, blocking part of me from his view. “Why are you here, Veyrion?”
The name was bitten off like it tasted foul.
Veyrion kept looking past me anyway. “What? A man can’t visit two old friends?” He let the silence stretch, then bared his teeth. “The Eye.”
Alaric’s lips pressed together. “Not a chance.”
Veyrion’s eyes glinted. “After I helped you get it, Sirena?” He said the name like it was both an endearment and a claim. “Seems a little unfair to keep it all to yourself, don’t you think?”
I forced my voice steady. “What do you want with the eye?”
He tipped his head, the faintest smirk curving his mouth. “I’m just here to make sure it doesn’t end up in the wrong hands.” His eyes flicked to Alaric, all heat gone, replaced with something cutting. “And some hands are far worse than others.”
Alaric’s tone was low, dangerous. “By which you mean your hands.”
Veyrion’s smirk deepened, his attention drifting back to me like we were the only two people on the deck. “I’ll make this simple,” he said, resting his hand on the hilt of the axe at his belt. “You give me the Eye, and I let your crew keep breathing. Refuse…”
His focus moved across the Black Marrow’s deck—pausing just long enough on each man to make the threat sink in. “And I take it anyway… but it will involve a lot of unnecessary pain.”
The words were calm, but the promise in them was pure steel.
Alaric stepped forward, his shadow cutting across the blood-slick planks. “You’re welcome to try.”
“Do not test me,” Veyrion said, voice almost playful. “Captain.”
The air on deck went still. Alaric’s fingers twitched, the faintest tell, but enough for me to know Veyrion was not bluffing.
“We both know she’s not the type to give it up so easily,” Veyrion continued, his eyes cutting to me. “Which is why—”
His men moved in unison, forming a tightening ring. The creak of boots on wet wood was the only sound.
“—I’m not here to ask.”
Veyrion’s focus lingered on mine. “That thing will destroy you,” he said quietly—too quietly for anyone but me to hear. “Better it be in my hands than yours.”
Alaric’s jaw locked, his stance promising blood. “You’ll have to cut me down first.”
Veyrion’s grin shifted to something wicked. “I’d hate to ruin the mood by proving a point.”
Veyrion’s attention slid back to me, the way a shark’s gaze finds the weakest fish. “Show me,” he said.
I froze. “Show you?”
He smirked like he could hear the fear in my voice. “The Eye. You have it. I want it. Show me where it is.”
Alaric stepped in, shoulders squaring. “She’s not taking you anywhere.”
Veyrion didn’t look at him—he just lowered his head, voice dropping low, dangerously persuasive. “You can take me to it, Sirena… or I can have my men tear the ship apart plank by plank until they find it.”
A slow dread coiled in my gut. His men shifted behind him, their weapons catching the lantern light, their blue-and-gold sigils slick with blood. I didn’t need to look at the crew to know they were outnumbered.
“I—” The word caught in my throat. I hated giving him what he wanted. Hated that my silence would cost more lives than my compliance. “Fine,” I said at last, each syllable tasting like rust.
Veyrion’s grin was all triumph. “That’s my girl.”
Alaric moved to follow as I stepped past, but a wall of Covenant warriors surged between us, weapons low but ready.
“Move,” Alaric growled, fangs flashing.
“Not this time, brother,” he said warmly. “She and I have catching up to do.” Veyrion called over his shoulder. He glanced back just long enough to meet Alaric’s eyes—and wink.
I felt the tension coil tighter behind me as I led him to the captain's quarters, each step like sinking deeper into a trap.
“So,” he drawled, “why lie to me?”
My shoulders stiffened. “About what?”
“Your name.” He let the words stretch.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. It didn’t seem to matter,” I said, keeping my voice even.
“So Nerina? Huh?” Veyrion asked, tone casual—but his eyes were anything but.
He rolled it over once, like he was weighing it. “Pretty.” Then, with a lazy smile, “I’ll call you Neri.”
I stopped short. “Don’t.”
That caught his attention. “Don’t?”
“I don’t like nicknames,” I said.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face—gone as quickly as it came. Amusement took its place.
“Interesting,” he murmured. “Most people don’t correct me.”
“Most people aren’t me.”
His smile widened, sharp at the edges. “Noted.” A beat. Then, deliberately, “Neri.”
I kept walking, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking back. But my pulse betrayed me, thudding faster with every step toward the captain’s quarters—and the Eye.
The door to Alaric’s quarters creaked open under my hand.
The moment I stepped inside, the air changed—thick with the scent of him.
Salt. Cedar. The faint trace of rum clinging to wood.
My eyes flicked, unbidden, to the bed—rumpled, sheets twisted from the time we’d spent tangled there.
My skin flushed at the memory of his hands, his mouth—then the cold snap of his voice the morning after, the words meant to push me away.
It hit like a bruise under my ribs.
Veyrion stepped in behind me, his presence crowding the small space.
Evergreen and frost clung to him, undercut by a subtle warmth, like embers buried beneath ice.
His attention drifted lazily over the bed, then back to me, lips curving in wicked amusement.
“Well, well. The pirate beds the mermaid. How… tragically predictable.”
“Honestly, Neri, you could do better than a man who smells like low tide and regret.” he said smoothly, sauntering in like he owned the place.
I shot him a look over my shoulder. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”
He grinned like it was a compliment. “Yes.”
I walked to the desk. The drawer stuck before giving way, revealing the Eye of Nareth glinting in the lantern light.