Page 26

Esmyra

T he crew of The Night Wraith were on edge as they planned to infiltrate Lephyrin’s castle to rescue their captain—who was undoubtedly suffering from agony as each moment passed.

Esmyra desperately tried not to think about what he must’ve been going through, recalling everything he told her it entailed.

How his lungs likely felt as if they were filled with water, barely able to catch his breath as his vision turned blurry with a haze that mimicked that of the depths.

With the castle hosting a royal ball, the guards and security would be preoccupied, creating an opportunity for her crew to enter and seize anything of value, but their priority was to recover their captain and aid him in his escape—and kill the princes while they were at it.

But first, in order to do this, they needed to blend in. The crew had intercepted a convoy earlier that day—a carriage carrying the finest clothing for noblemen and women attending the ball.

Esmyra’s usual wardrobe of billowing blouses and high-waist trousers had been replaced by a gown of crimson, its fabric glistening like blood in the low light.

She looked every bit the regal debutant, save for the pistol strapped discreetly beneath her dress—not that she would need it, but she often kept additional weapons if her crew found themselves in need of it .

And sometimes, she just liked to use them for fun.

She found the transformation of her crew hysterical. They had resembled nothing more than sea rats only an hour prior and now appeared as if they belonged in the halls of any royal palace.

With their disguises in place, the crew of The Night Wraith made their way up the winding path to the castle. The structure loomed above them, its towers piercing the night sky like jagged teeth while torches flickered along the outer walls.

As they approached the grand entrance, Jak offered her his arm. “You’re looking absolutely devastating in that dress.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “It mimics the color of all the blood we’ll spill.”

Esmyra gave him a knowing look. “If I didn’t know you prefer the company of other men, that might’ve made me blush, Jaky.”

A low chuckle rumbled from him. “Only most nights, love. Not all of them.” He winked, and she rolled her eyes.

Truthfully, Esmyra was the same way when it came to inviting others into her bed. She never cared if they were male or female. She only needed to be able to tolerate them…which was the reason she hadn’t bothered with anyone in centuries.

The ball had begun hours ago, and as they approached, the end of the line of guests came into view as they were vetted by the guards. As Esmyra’s eyes drifted about the area, she spotted nearly ten more guards scattered about.

“Idiots. There’s barely anyone out here anymore,” Jak observed alongside her.

“They likely don’t believe anyone would be reckless enough to attack an event like this.”

He snorted in response. “Foolish mortals.”

“Aye,” she breathed and then subtly glanced over her shoulder to address the six crew members accompanying her.

“I count ten armed guards. Take them out subtly, and I’ll take care of the man at the door.

Jak and I will find my father, and the rest of you are to be scattered about the ballroom.

Find both princes and be sure to have eyes on them constantly.

Once we retrieve our captain, I’ll come back to compel the princes out to avoid making a scene.

And we’ll kill them once we have them alone. ”

Esmyra planned to make a statement with their deaths. If Draevyn thought he could leave a warning to the realm’s pirates charred into her sails, she would send her message right back to the king, written in his sons’ blood.

“Aye,” they murmured in agreement.

The males at her back dispersed, cloaked by the darkness of the night and hidden easily from mortal eyes.

Esmyra took the lead up the steps of the castle, her hands lifting the front of her gown as she hummed a calming melody. Jak was only a pace behind her, his hand pressed against the small of her back. Once they reached the door, the guard stopped them, as planned.

“What is your purpose here?” The man’s voice was stern, unwelcoming.

Neither of them reacted to the guard or his question. Instead, they kept their heads bowed, looking towards the ground as the tune of her voice seemed to wrap around them all.

“You will look at a man when he speaks to you. Surely, as a lady of nobility, you were taught that. If you weren’t, then you have no place here this evening. This is an invitation-only event.” He paused for a moment, observing them. “And enough with your humming !”

Esmyra’s stare lifted to his as she batted her kohl-lined lashes at him. She recalled how the darkness of the pigment made her blue eyes appear brighter, more enchanting. The man’s stare locked with hers, and her eyes shifted. Once round pupils morphed into slits, mimicking a serpent’s.

His body stiffened as he fell into her trance—eyes vacant and fixated on her. It was as if he were frozen in time as he succumbed to her spell.

“Now, now. Is that any way to speak to a woman?” She tsked and shot Jak a grin. Her eyes traced up and down the man. “Tell me, do you hold knowledge of a prisoner recently taken to the castle?”

“Yes.” The man couldn’t help his answer. She felt his mind writhe beneath her grasp, trying to fight her magic, but he was no match for her power.

“Good boy,” she cooed. “Now, where would he be held?”

“The dungeons.”

Typical.

She let out an annoyed breath. “And where be the dungeons?”

“Can’t get in the locks without the key,” he stated.

Esmyra glanced up at Jak, who watched with a curious expression. His light brown hair fluttered in the night breeze as his mouth twisted into a scowl. “Locks shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Aye, but we can’t be wandering about all night.”

Her attention returned to the guard. “Do you know where the dungeons are?”

“Yes.”

Footsteps sounded from behind them, and her crew met them at the top of the staircase.

The side of Esmyra’s lip tilted upward as she lifted her hand and gestured to the door. “By all means. After you, sir.”

The man turned on his heel and mindlessly stalked through the grand entryway without another word.

Esmyra’s crew moved through the throng of guests in the ballroom with ease, taking in every detail—the layout of the room, the positions of the guards, and the location of the two princes.

As Esmyra and Jak followed the guard through the corridors of the castle, the distant echoes of the festivities became muffled. The man stared blankly ahead, silent as he led them down a hidden staircase.

“This is significantly farther than we anticipated,” Jak whispered, but all Esmyra could do was hush him.

Her mind was consumed with rescuing her father and seeking retribution against the Rowe family. The weight of knowing that she was to blame for his capture had her stomach twisting in knots, tormenting her.

Down in the lower levels, the air grew cooler, tinged with the musty scent of damp earth and stone—a stark contrast to the warmth and fragrance of the festivities on the upper levels of the palace.

The guard brought them to a halt before a massive iron door, reinforced with heavy bars.

Jak pulled a dagger from his boot and shoved the blade into the lock, twisting it until it popped open.

The door creaked open, revealing the darkness of the dungeons beyond, only lit by a few scattered torches.

A wave of cold air rushed out, blowing the loose strands of Esmyra’s hair around her face.

She turned to the guard. “And this is it, then? The prisoner, Cyrus Blackwood, is in here?”

“Yes,” he answered. “For the time being. For the king wishes to present the realm his newest capture, showing that he rid the sea of its monster.”

Esmyra froze as Jak’s wide eyes met hers.

“King Rowe wishes to show Blackwood to his guests this evening?” Jak asked.

“Yes. Once the feast has ceased and the dance commences once more.”

“Fuck,” Esmyra muttered.

If they weren’t able to leave the castle before the guards came down here for their prize, there was a chance that none of them would make it out.

Her eyes lifted to Jak. “Be rid of him,” she demanded.

The sound of steel tearing flesh filtered through the air as Jak slit the guard’s throat. His lifeless body fell to the ground with a subtle clatter of his armor.

Esmyra turned on her heel and stalked down the dungeon corridor as her gown dragged along the floor, Jak following alongside her.

The dungeon walls dripped with moisture, and the floor was uneven, slick with dirt and filth. The air was thick, every breath she took in was tinged with the scent of rot .

“Father,” Esmyra called softly.

“Captain!” Jak echoed.

Labored breathing caught both of their attention, and her eyes narrowed on a cell only feet away. “He’s here!” she said before sprinting to it.

Esmyra fell to her knees, her throat catching at the sight of her father slumped against the wall, wrists bound. “Father,” she choked out.

“About time,” he rasped, though his eyes appeared unseeing.

“We had to take the scenic route,” Jak joked, and Esmyra scoffed. “You ready to get out of here, Captain?”

Cyrus stood from his crouch and slowly made his way to the barred door of his cell, rubbing his wrists as the rusted shackles cut into his skin.

He turned to Esmyra. “How did you get here?”

“Nevermind that! This is my fault, and now I’m going to get you out.” The words rushed out of her frantically.

When her hand reached for the door, she immediately pulled it back into her chest at the sight of what circled the lock of his cell.

Shadows .

Swirling tendrils of darkness weaved their way through and around the lock in a sort of spiral motion. “What in all gods?” she whispered, her eyes darting back and forth before lifting back up to her father.