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Draevyn

T he dim, swaying light of an oil lamp cast flickering shadows across the dark room.

Draevyn groaned, his head pounding as he slowly came to consciousness.

The air was thick with the scent of salt and damp wood, mingling with the metallic tang of blood—his blood, he realized.

He blinked, trying to focus through the disorientation as the cold shackles bit into his wrists.

Draevyn hadn’t felt so drained in years. What the fuck happened?

One moment, he was dancing with a beautiful woman, and then the next, he was here. His eyes slowly widened as the face of the woman he’d been with came rushing back to his memory.

Esmi . The brothel worker from Anchorage Cove. However, he still didn’t necessarily believe that story, especially considering where he currently found himself.

The room was entirely too dark, playing tricks on his senses.

He tried to summon fire in the palm of his hand but went unanswered—the usual warmth wasn’t brought to his skin, and his flames didn’t flare in his chest. Frustration worked its way through his veins.

He tried again, but his magic failed to ignite once more. Not even a single ember would spark.

An unbearable, sinking feeling settled into his gut. He closed his eyes tightly, mentally preparing himself for his throbbing headache to worsen as he faced the inevitable—what his reality had become.

Draevyn lifted his bound hands, and through the darkness of whatever hellish cell he had been placed in, his vision slowly focused on the stone-carved cuffs encircling his wrists.

“Fucking Irah,” he growled, nostrils flaring as his flames thrashed against the cuff’s hold. The last time he saw the cuffs was aboard his ship, right before it sank to the depths, where he’d left them on Esmi’s wrists.

This was her doing. He didn’t know how she managed to remove herself from the cuffs, but knew deep within his soul that she was responsible for this.

As Lephyrin’s sea captain, he had grown accustomed to the waves and their sounds over his years at sea. His jaw tightened, knowing he was now held prisoner on a ship, far from the protection of the crown.

Draevyn rested his head on the wall at his back, and through the dim light of the oil lamp, a figure came into view, just outside the barred door of his cell.

The man was of average build, not small, but nowhere near as broad-shouldered and muscular as Draevyn.

Even in the darkness, he could tell his skin was tanned from years at sea beneath the scorching sun.

A small bronze hoop hung from his left ear and his brown hair was cropped short on the sides while slightly longer on the top of his head.

The man said nothing, just stared through narrow eyes.

Draevyn straightened, the chains connecting the cuffs clinking as he moved. His mouth was dry, his throat parched. “Where is she?” he demanded.

The man didn’t answer immediately. Just kept staring, his golden eyes gleaming in the low light like an owl perched in the realm’s trees. “You’re in no position to be making demands,” he said simply.

“I know she’s behind this. Did she sell me off?” When he went unanswered, he continued. “Her name is Esmi, or so I was once told, but that may be just another lie in her web.” The man lifted a brow as Draevyn pushed himself to his feet, despising how drained his body felt from the cuffs.

The pirate reached into his coat and pulled out a rusted key, sliding it into the lock. “’Tis your lucky day, Phoenix . Captain’s been waitin’ for ya to wake up.” He opened the door with a creak, stepping aside to let him out. “And the captain should never be kept waiting.”

“The captain?” Perhaps she wasn’t on the ship after all and had sold him out. Had she been a trap, cunningly cloaked in a beautiful form? He may never know, and the thought of that was somehow more irritating to him than the situation he found himself in.

He loathed how much of a mystery this woman was. A woman who showed up in his life unannounced, who conveniently appeared whenever chaos ensued.

Draevyn hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he sized up the man before him. But he knew he had no choice. With his hands still bound and his power drained, he was in no position to resist. So, he may as well see who had managed to capture him and what their intent with him was.

The man grabbed Draevyn’s arm the moment he was beyond the cell door and shoved him toward the stairs.

They made their way through the narrow, dimly lit halls of the ship, the wooden boards creaking beneath their feet.

The distant murmur of the crew, the clink of bottles, and the occasional burst of raucous laughter sounded over the crashing of the sea.

Draevyn glanced down at the death grip the pirate held on his arm.

How was he going to get out of this? Had this been his father’s doing since velsinyte was involved?

They believed themselves to be the only kingdom in possession of it.

Was the chaos that ensued at the ball just a disguise to have him disappear without a trace?

He wouldn’t put it past his father. In fact, it was the perfect way to have him removed from Lephyrin.

The sun threatened to blind him as they reached the top of the stairs and took their first steps onto the main deck. Once Draevyn’s eyes adjusted to the brightness, they flared. The crew stormed around the deck in all shapes and sizes, creatures of all kinds.

“What in all gods?” he whispered, brows furrowing. He’d never seen anything like it, convincing himself it was just a trick of the sunlight as his senses adjusted.

Pirates, while abiding by their laws, still typically remained with their own kind and race.

“This way,” the man ordered, right before kicking Draevyn in the back of the knee, nearly sending him to the onyx floorboards.

The moment he noticed the hue of the wood, his throat tightened, knowing he was aboard the notorious ship that terrorized Rymelle’s waters.

The last time he stood atop this deck, he had ignited everyone aboard in flames before capturing its captain. But how could he be aboard The Night Wraith now? His father held its captain as a prisoner beneath Lephyrin’s castle.

At last, they reached a wooden door stained the same color as the vessel, with a tiny, circular window of scarlet-hued stained glass adorning its center.

The man knocked twice before pushing it open without waiting for a response.

He shoved Draevyn inside, where he found himself in a large, dark cabin.

The walls were lined with maps, assorted weapons, and ancient bound texts. A grand wooden desk sat at the far end in its center, and behind it, in a tall, imposing chair, sat Esmi.

Draevyn nearly choked. An infuriating smirk played across her face as she stared at him from the other side of the room.

She wore a tightly laced corset, while a low-cut, ruffled shirt peeked out from underneath, her breasts spilling over the top of it. Her pants were crafted of black leather, hugging her muscular legs, and tucked into knee-high boots perched atop her desk—one ankle crossed over the other.

Her long, dark hair fell around her face while a tricorne hat sat tilted atop her head. Its brim shadowed her piercing blue eyes as she gazed at him tauntingly while silver hoops glinted in her ears.

Draevyn’s heart raced wildly, confusion creeping into him as she confidently sat at the captain’s desk as if it was where she had always been—where she belonged.

The corners of her lips tilted, but the subtle smile didn’t meet her eyes. “Welcome aboard The Night Wraith , Draevyn Rowe.”