Page 39 of Lore of the Tides

“—We were trying to protect you from the witch, my Lord—”

“—She’s a demon, my Lord—”

“—She murdered Old Salt—”

“The next to speak had better choose wisely, it might be the last thing they ever say,” the captain bellowed between pants from the doorway. The captain was flushed and sweat streamed down his face despite the cold. “I’m sorry, Commander Syrelle, I didn’t know.”

Syrelle ignored the captain as his gaze swept over the sailors and guards until they landed on Thadrik.

“When the king appointed you as my second, I knew that you would cause problems for me—but I didn’t realize you were this stupid.”

“Syrelle,” Thadrik sputtered. “Cousin, I—”

“Your ignorance and hatred have condemned you and those under your command to death.”

Thadrik pulled himself to a standing position. He was weak and in pain and nearly blinded, Lore thought, from the way he was squinting toward Syrelle, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from pleading for his life. “I’m innocent! It was their idea!” he whined, trying to shift the blame. “You wouldn’t kill your own cousin—I’m protected by—by—” Stupid indeed. He couldn’t even think of what could possibly protect him from Syrelle’s fury.

“You can lead your mob in one last thing.” A vine extended from Syrelle’s hand, its tip a hardened, pointed casing. It coiled in the air for a moment, writhing like a snake before Syrelle whipped his hand forward. “Death.” The vine shot out and pierced straight through Thadrik’s right eye.

An uproar of gasps and screams.

Syrelle turned to look at Lore, his voice severe. Lore wanted to shrink from the wrath that seared in his eyes as he regarded her. “They will be punished for their crimes against you, Lore Alemeyu. But their deaths will be on my hands, not yours.”

Calamity ensued as sailors and guards scrambled away from their lord.

Those nearest the railing attempted to throw themselves overboard, anything to escape Syrelle, but he was fast—it wasn’t the first time Lore had seen him use the earthen powers that she usually attributed to Asher, but it was clear now that he had dampened his power, another layer to his facade, because the one vine split and multiplied until every single one of the mob who had tried to kill Lore lay dead. The last of them hadn’t even ceased the jerking spasm of death before Syrelle recalled the vines back into himself. They slithered across the deck through pools of blood before disappearing into his palms, which dripped with blood.

Chapter 13

Surrounded by the dead, Syrelle released the vines that encircled her form, calling them back into himself.

Lore wrapped a hand around the deepest cut on her arm and watched him wearily.

Seconds. It had taken him seconds to end their lives.

“Get down below,” he seethed.

Lore skirted past the captain on her way belowdecks. She avoided looking at the tears streaming down his face. His crew had mutinied, a crime punishable by death. But she wondered if the captain did not think a “witch,” in his eyes, was a worthy cause for so many fae deaths.

Syrelle spoke to the captain, his words too quiet for her to hear, but his tone was vicious.

Lore did not stick around to find out what Syrelle had to say to him.

Since the captain would have been in command while Syrelle was away from the ship, she wondered if he would be punished for his failure to keep order. Or was the execution of almost everyone on his crew punishment enough?

Lore didn’t make it far before Syrelle’s long legs ate up the distance, and he was by her side.

Lore slowed her steps for a moment when Coretha poked herhead out of a door. The female’s face was wan, pale, and Lore sneered when she saw the embarrassed expression on her face. Not guilt for not helping Lore; no, it would be because Syrelle would know that she hadn’t helped. The despicable female opened her mouth to say something, when a warning sound rumbled in Syrelle’s chest.

“I’ll deal with you later,” Syrelle spat out. His tone was coated in deadly venom. Coretha slammed her mouth shut and closed her door, locking it.

Lore hoped he fed Coretha to the razorfins.

When they arrived at her room, Syrelle followed her in and slammed the door behind them.

Lore was shocked that it didn’t explode off its hinges.

Syrelle was furious; his hands were visibly shaking. He pressed on the wall, and a secret compartment—hidden in the wall this whole time—popped open. Lore would’ve cursed—what else was hidden in this room that she could’ve used to escape?—if she wasn’t so fucking terrified of this raging male who had just systematically ended the lives of nearly thirty souls. Who was rifling through the compartment with way more intensity than felt necessary until he found what he was searching for.