Chapter 51 Alaric
Alaric
The Black Marrow, Port Ymirskald
Boots clattered across the gangplank, and I turned to see not just Veyrion striding up, cloak snapping in the wind, but Eira at his side.
Her braids caught the lantern light, shoulders squared, every step a soldier’s march.
She scanned the Black Marrow’s deck like it was a midden heap she’d been forced to wade through.
Garen, standing at my shoulder, went still. Too still. I caught the way his jaw slackened, the way his attention followed her with all the subtlety of a fish gaping at a hook.
“Gods,” he muttered under his breath, low enough he thought I wouldn’t hear. “What a woman.”
I shot him a murderous glare. “Pick your tongue up off the deck, quartermaster,” I hissed. “Before she cuts it out.”
Eira’s attention swept over us, cold as ice. When it reached Garen, her mouth curled, disdain plain. “Pirates,” she spat, the word thick with disgust.
Garen’s ears burned red. Most men would’ve wilted. Garen only grinned wider. “Aye,” he said, shameless, eyes shining with some idiot devotion.
Her stare could have frozen fire. She turned away without another word, cloak snapping behind her as she followed Veyrion across the deck.
But Garen only sighed, dreamy and unrepentant. “Ye' see the way she looked at me?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, resisting the urge to throw him overboard before she could. “Yes,” I growled. “Like she was measuring where best to put the knife.” Of all the cursed times for him to grow smitten.
Veyrion stopped a few paces away, glacier eyes locked on me. “Is she here?”
I tilted my head, feigning ignorance. “I’m not in the habit of harboring strays. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Nerina.”
The name hit me, but I forced my face blank. The sound of it in his mouth made something feral stir. “No,” I said flatly. “She isn’t here.”
He exhaled, caught between a sigh and a curse. “After the council, I went to find her. I meant to tell her about the Veil—what’s coming.” His attention shifted to the sea, then back to me. “But when I reached her room, she was gone. She is nowhere in Skeldrhall.”
“What’s happening at the Veil?” I asked.
Veyrion didn’t smile. “It’s failing.”
My pulse spiked once. I forced my expression into something bored. Unmoved. “Define failing.”
“The seam is thinning, soon it will be gone completely.” he said.
Damn it. My thoughts didn’t go to the Veil. They went to her.
If Nerina heard this—
A cold, familiar dread slid down my spine.
She would run toward it. To protect her people. To prove she wasn’t something fragile. To prove she belonged.
Reckless. Infuriating. Stupid.
I dragged a hand through my hair, already pacing. “She cannot know.”
Veyrion’s straightened. “She deserves to know.”
“I know her.” My voice came out tighter than I intended. “If she finds out the Veil is weakening, she’ll head straight for it.”
“And you would keep this from her?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “Throwing yourself at a collapsing barrier without understanding what’s tearing it apart isn’t bravery. It’s suicide dressed up as virtue.”
The image burned behind my eyes anyway—her chin lifted, light gathering beneath her skin like she was born to stand in the center of disaster.
Before he could answer, boots thundered up the gangplank. One of his men appeared, breath clouding the air. “Commander,” the soldier said, bowing his head. “A ship is missing.”
Veyrion’s voice snapped like ice. “Which one?”
The answer dropped like an anchor. “Your lead vessel.”
For a moment, silence stretched. Then Veyrion’s lips curved into the ghost of a smile—wry, humorless.
Not anger. Not disbelief. Almost impressed.
“She took the largest ship in the fleet,” he murmured, half to himself.
“Alone.” His eyes flicked to the horizon, glacial and unreadable.
“Bold. Smarter than half the men who’ve ever served under me. ”
My blood burned. “Bold? She could be killed.”
He faced me fully. “You still don’t understand, do you?” Respect edged his tone, tempered by something darker. “You keep underestimating her.”
A beat.
“You see a girl playing at bravery. I see something the world should be praying never turns against it.” His voice lowered. “She doesn’t need commanded. She needs freedom. And gods help the man who mistakes one for the other.”
The name hit me like a fist. Neri. As if he had the right to shorten it, the right to make it his. “Stop calling her that.” The words snapped out before I could stop them.
“There’s no need to feel threatened, Alaric,” Veyrion said, maddeningly calm. “It’s just a nickname. Among friends.”
I bared my teeth in something that wasn’t a smile. “She doesn’t need friends like you.”
Veyrion’s glacier eyes flicked over me, assessing. Then his grin widened, deliberate, dangerous. “Oh? And she needs friends like you?”
The world narrowed to the space between my hands and his throat.
Fury and shame collided—because Saints help me, he wasn’t wrong.
Not after what I’d confessed. Not after what I’d taken.
Not after lies and secrets. My crew shifted uneasily behind me, tension sharp enough to crack the deck boards.
I forced myself still, even as rage clawed at my chest.
But even through the heat of it, Nerina was out there. And whatever poison laced Veyrion’s words, whatever arrogance dripped from his grin, would have to wait. Nothing else mattered.
At last, Veyrion spoke, quiet and cutting. “Whatever you think of me, this isn’t about us.”
He was right. Saints help me—he was right. I turned to my crew. “Prepare the Black Marrow. Now.”
When I looked back, his men were already moving for his ships, and his eyes—glacier blue and unyielding—met mine like a vow.
For this—for her—we would stand on the same side. Not as allies. Not as friends. But because losing her would destroy us both.
Lanterns flared across the harbor. Ropes were cut, anchors lifted, oars dipped. Two fleets moved side by side—serpent and shadow—before the open sea swallowed them both.
I turned, ready to snap another order at Garen, only to find him staring across the gap between our vessels—at Eira. She stood at Veyrion’s side, hair whipping in the wind, eyes cold as the ice cliffs we’d left behind. She met his gaze across the water with pure disdain, then turned her back.
Garen clutched the railing like a man struck by lightning. “Gods,” he whispered, dazed. “She’s magnificent.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, praying for patience. “She’s going to gut you.”
He didn’t blink. “Aye.” His grin turned foolish. “And I would thank her for the honor.”
Then his grin faded. “Do you think she’s all right, Cap'n?” His voice was quieter now, stripped of humor. “She’s strong, aye—stronger than any of us gave her credit for. But out there… alone…”
The words trailed off, unfinished but heavy.