Chapter 32 Nerina #2
His eyes lit like a cat spotting prey. “You’d really try to keep it from me?” He tilted his head. “After I gift-wrapped it for you, no less.”
“I never asked for your help.”
“No,” he said, leaning a hip against the desk, “but you didn’t say no, either. You didn’t have to walk out of that tavern with me. Do you have any idea what I had to do to distract Séraphine that night? The risks I took so you could walk away with this pretty little bauble?”
I met his gaze, my voice steady. “I’m sure you enjoyed every second of it.”
He chuckled low, stepping in until the edge of the desk pressed into the back of my thighs. “Maybe.”
Veyrion’s fingers closed around the stone before I could stop him. He turned it over once, twice, lips curling like he’d just won a game no one else knew they were playing.
“Such trouble for such a little thing,” he murmured as he pressed it to his right eye.
I held my breath, waiting for the Eye’s reaction. Instead—nothing.
Veyrion stilled. A low hum of confusion escaped him before he let out a bark of laughter that cracked through the cabin.
“Oh, Neri…” He pulled it back, turning it toward the lamplight. “Do you know what this is?”
My stomach sank. “It’s—”
“—a rock,” he finished, grinning wide enough to show teeth. “A very ordinary, very boring piece of obsidian. Not a drop of magic in it.”
He threw it, caught it, and shook his head. “Clever. Very clever. Almost had me.” His attention moved over me, keen and amused. “Tell me—was this your idea, or does your brooding captain have more brains than I remember?”
Veyrion rolled the stone in his palm, thumb dragging over its dull surface. That easy smirk of his thinned into something cold. “Stop playing games, Neri.” His voice dropped, silk over steel. “Where’s the real one?”
I kept my chin high, even as my pulse thudded in my throat. “That is the real one.”
He stepped closer, close enough that I caught the faint scent of salt and iron clinging to him. His eyes, pale as ice under moonlight, locked on mine.
“Do you think I can’t tell the difference between a relic and a river stone?” he asked, almost gently—almost. “I didn’t claw my way across half the damn sea, bleed and bargain with things better left in the deep, just to be handed a child’s trick.”
I swallowed hard. “Maybe you should’ve asked better questions before you started making deals.”
His smile returned, slow and dangerous.
I folded my arms, the weight of his stare pressing down like the deep. My pulse quickened. “You think I’d risk my neck for a rock?”
Veyrion tilted his head, studying me like a card player weighing the odds. His smirk was lazy, but there was a spark of calculation in it. “You lied about your name. Why should I believe you about this?”
I stepped forward, refusing to give him ground. “You shouldn't”.
That's what he said to me in Shadeau, it only felt right to echo it back now.
He closed the distance anyway, stopping just short of brushing against me. “You don’t know me well enough to realize—I’m very good at taking what people don’t want to give.”
Veyrion’s eyes flicked past me toward the deck, where the clash of steel still rang out like a drumbeat. “Pity,” he said, tossing the fake Eye onto Alaric’s desk with a careless clink. “I was hoping you’d be smarter than this.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning,” he drawled, stepping closer until I could see the faint flecks of gold in his irises, “I won't leave this ship empty-handed.”
Veyrion studied me, deliberate and assessing, lingering just long enough to make my pulse quicken for all the wrong reasons.
“I think you’re worth more than the Eye.”
I kept my expression neutral—barely. “And why’s that?”
His smirk deepened, all wolf and winter.
“Because the Eye only shows you what was, or what might be. But you—” he leaned in, lowering his voice to something meant only for me “—you change what will be. The kind of power people kill for. The kind of power I’d rather have standing beside me than against me. ”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Oh, you are. The Eye will be mine eventually, but you… you’re a rarer prize.”
I hated the way his voice hooked into me, part challenge, part promise. Hated that for one split second, the thought of leaving with him wasn’t fear—it was curiosity. He helped me get that very ordinary piece of obsidian. I hadn’t considered what he’d want in return.
He glanced toward the door, toward the deck. “Your captain looks tired. Bleeding. One wrong step, and his head could be on the deck before dawn.”
A cold flush shot through me. “You wouldn’t.”
He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper that brushed my ear. “You’ve seen what I can do. You know I would.”
Veyrion’s smirk was soft, almost sympathetic. “Come with me. Willingly. And I’ll make sure your captain wakes to see another sunrise—moonrise, I suppose.”
My heart hammered. I thought of Alaric—stubborn, reckless, refusing to let me see the ways he bled. If I stayed, he would fight until there was nothing left. If I left… maybe he’d live.
I remembered the way he’d looked this morning—jaw tight, already halfway to breaking himself for me.
I swallowed hard, my pulse a war drum in my throat. “…Swear it.”
He straightened, pressing a hand to his chest like he was taking an oath. “On the blood in my veins.”
I hated him for making the choice so simple. Hated myself more for making it.
“Fine,” I said, the word tasting like salt and ash.
“Smart choice.”
“I’ll give you a moment,” he added, almost politely. “To gather your belongings.”
I crossed the room slowly, forcing my hands steady as I gathered the satchel from the corner.
The journals went in first—worn leather, salt-stained pages heavy with secrets.
The shards followed, their faint glow pressing warm against my palm before I wrapped them carefully and tucked them out of sight.
I slung the strap over my shoulder and turned back to him, my pulse loud but my face calm.
My legs felt like they belonged to someone else as he turned me toward the door.
The moment we stepped back onto the deck, the battle stilled like the sea before a storm. Veyrion didn’t just return—he presented me. His hand closed loosely around my arm, not dragging but holding me in place, as though he wanted everyone to see.
“Gentlemen,” he called, his voice carrying easily over the groans of the wounded and the crash of the waves. “Seems we’re leaving with a far greater treasure than we came for.”
A few of his men laughed. Others looked between us, confused, unable to understand why their commander would value a mermaid, over the Eye of Nareth.
Across the deck, Alaric’s head snapped toward me. His sword was slick with blood, his jaw set so hard it looked ready to crack. “Nerina—no—” he growled, taking a step forward — only to have one of the Covenant warriors block his path.
“Let her go, Alaric,” Veyrion said lazily, savoring every word. “She’s made her choice.”
Alaric’s eyes locked on mine, fierce and pleading. “Don’t do this. Whatever he’s told you, whatever he’s promised—”
I swallowed hard, forcing the words past the ache in my throat. “You said it yourself,” My voice barely carried over the creak of the rigging, but I knew he heard me. “There’s no place on a pirate ship for a mermaid.”
His face changed — not the guarded captain, not the cursed predator, but something raw, wounded. Something I’d never seen in him. I turned away before I could let it break me.
Veyrion’s smirk widened as he led me toward the gangplank, his voice pitched low enough for only me — and Alaric, just behind us — to hear. “Perfectly done, Neri.”
The last thing I saw before stepping onto the Covenant ship was Alaric, still straining against the men holding him back, his eyes burning with a mix of fury and something far more dangerous.