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“His soul.”

I did my best not to react, not to show the pitiful hand concealed behind my gaze. My father had never mentioned his encounter with the God of the Underworld. But if it were true…would he have ever told me? But what if it wasn’t real, and this was just a trick for this demon to snatch another soul for his vault. “If that’s true, why have you waited so long?”

“Bahamut was the one who made the deal, not me. Until Talon Rothschild’s blood enters my domain, I can’t touch him. But now, his blood has—as it pumps in your veins.”

Now I knew it was true—and that was why he’d made me promise not to come here.

“I tasted it like salt on the sea. Smelled it in the winds of the storm. Felt your pulse in my dead heart.” He took a step forward, coming closer to me, his eyes pulsing with rage. “Your father will serve me the way he should have served Bahamut.”

“Who the fuck is Bahamut?”

His eyes flicked back and forth between mine. “My predecessor—before your father killed him.”

My father had killed a god. He was far older than his appearance showed, and I realized he had lived a life far more interesting than he’d ever shared with me. I wanted to ask this demon for the details, but I couldn’t afford to look unaware of my own family history. “If my father killed him, what do you think he’ll do to you?” I stepped toward him, bringing our faces close together, refusing to cower to anyone, even a demon.

He held his ground as his eyes remained locked on mine, over a foot taller than me, a trunk looking down at its roots. Where he should show anger, he displayed something else, a deep focus that burned like hot coals in a blazing fire. His eyes didn’t shift, not once, staring at me like I was a painting rather than a woman he’d just threatened.

I held his stare as long as I could, refused to blink first, but this man was different from me. Neither dead nor alive. Could flicker like a ghost but remain physical like a stone. Muscle stacked on muscle, a tall and mighty oak, its roots ancient and steeped in the rivers of experience and wisdom.

I had no chance to defeat him, physically or mentally, but I had to pretend otherwise. “My father has the loyalty of dragons, the command of the Southern Isles and influence over the Northern Isles, has friends in high and low places, and wields a sword that killed an immortal. Tread carefully, demon.”

The words didn’t provoke him. He remained quiet and still, seemingly mesmerized by my words rather than enraged.

I turned my back on him a second time and headed to the ship. I expected him to appear before me again, to cut off my passage tomy crew, but he did not. If he could feel the racing of my heart, he would know this was all an act, that I was scared out of my fucking mind.

Minutes passed, and I continued forward. It seemed too good to be true, that he would just let me go after threatening my bloodline, to extract a vengeance for something that had happened before I was alive. When I made it back to the ship, I saw the crew already working on the hull.

I swallowed and kept a straight face, even though it was probably as pale as snow. “This island is cursed. We need to make haste and leave it as quickly as possible.”

“Aye, Captain.” Davin chopped wood he’d hacked from a tree and carved it into planks to repair the damage from the rocks.

I was so terrified by my encounter I didn’t even react to the promotion. “I’ll get more wood.”

It took an entire day to repair the ship, all of us working together to mend everything that had shattered in the collision against the rock. We sustained off the stores we had in the hold. Despite our desire for fresh food, no one hunted or searched for sustenance on land. They all felt the God of the Underworld’s presence—they just didn’t know that’s what it was.

It was dark by the time the tide started to roll in.

“Drop the sails.” I called out orders and stepped into my new role without hesitation. I didn’t necessarily believe I deserved the promotion, but I was eager to leave that sinister place asquickly as possible. “Prepare the masts. We head northeast until we reach the Southern Isles.”

“Should we drop anchor offshore?” Davin asked. “The storm has passed, so no need to sail blindly in the dark?—”

“We need to leave this place.Now.”

None of the men challenged me. They all knew I’d seen the storm approach when Captain Hartshire had dismissed it. We were all in this situation because of his stupidity—and now he was dead.

“Wait a day before you depart.” It was the voice of a stranger, but it was somehow so familiar, it could have belonged to a lifelong friend.

My eyes shifted down the deck to see him standing there.

In his uniform and armor, his cape blowing in the wind like he was real.

Because he was real.

I glanced to the men around me, who all continued their preparations like they didn’t notice him.

“I reveal myself only to you.” He stepped closer to me, a gust of wind moving through his hair before it went still once more. “A dangerous armada approaches. Leave the island now, and you’ll cross their path.”

I lowered my voice to a whisper, afraid to cause a panic with the men because they would fear I spoke to an invisible enemy—or I spoke to myself. I wasn’t sure which would be worse. “As if I would ever believe the word of a demon.”