Page 56

Esmyra

S tepping out of her chambers, Esmyra tugged at the strange fabrics of her dress.

The gown flowed around her like water, the sea-silk light and cool against her skin, but it felt strange, constricting in a way no leather vest or weathered coat ever had.

She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders.

If she could face down entire fleets without batting an eye, she could handle a dinner with a foreign council. But when her eyes fell on the door across the hall, the sight of Draevyn staring at her made her breath hitch as that wild flame in his gaze flickered and surged.

But irritation quickly followed.

Draevyn stood there, eyes wide, as though time itself had paused. The man who was her captive—no, her ally, now—looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

Her skin prickled beneath his gaze. Esmyra suddenly became aware of how the shimmering fabric clung to her curves, and the loose waves of her dark hair as it brushed the small of her back.

For a beat, neither of them spoke.

Draevyn’s expression darkened, replaced by something she couldn’t quite place—hunger, perhaps. It was the look she envisioned he would have at Anchorage Cove, when she first tried to seduce him.

Men . She suppressed rolling her eyes .

“You clean up nice,” he said. The smug look on his face nearly had her talons slipping from the tips of her fingers, though she ignored the subtle flutters of her heart at his words.

Her eyes narrowed on him, her tone sharp. “Don’t get used to it.”

Draevyn’s smile only widened, as if her irritation amused him more. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

There was a tense pause as the two of them stood there, staring at each other.

“Shall we?” he asked, offering a mocking bow as he gestured toward the awaiting guards. His tone was dripping with sarcasm. His whiskey-hued eyes gleamed with amusement at her discomfort.

Scoffing, she strode past him, ignoring the infuriating smirk on his face. The two guards ahead led the way through the long, ornate hall. She glanced around, trying to take in the surroundings, but it was hard to focus with Draevyn walking beside her—far too close for her liking.

“I’d say you look uncomfortable,” he whispered, “but that would be an understatement.”

Esmyra clenched her jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Of course she was uncomfortable. Every piece of fabric she wore clung to her body. It made her feel exposed, and the unknown of everything occurring was suffocating.

“You’re not exactly blending in either,” she shot back under her breath, not bothering to look at him.

His smugness radiated off him.

“Oh, I’m blending just fine. I’m quite used to courtly gatherings,” he replied smoothly. “You, on the other hand, look like you’re ready to jump out a window.”

She cast him a sidelong glance, eyes narrowing. “Don’t tempt me.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and far too entertained. “If you really hate the sight of me so much, why bother having them release me from the cell? Clearly, they’re interested in you and would prefer to see my head on a spike. Consider me shocked you didn’t let me rot.”

“And let your father hurt Cyrus?” she snapped back. “Not a chance. ”

Draevyn leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “You’re really fun when you’re angry, you know that?”

Esmyra’s fists clenched at her sides, every muscle in her body tense with barely contained frustration. “You’re really irritating when you’re breathing, you know that?”

His only response was to chuckle quietly.

She blew out a breath. “Well, it’s not as if any of this has gone according to plan since the moment we stepped into that cave. I have a duty to my crew and captain.”

“I have some news for you, Esmyra…” His tone darkened, all sense of amusement gone. “The king will have Blackwood hang regardless of my return.”

A tightness formed in her throat, and she forced herself to look at him. She was surprised to find his eyes were soft, almost pitying. “Your father is no king of mine. What good is a man who cannot keep his word?”

“Finally, something we agree on.” Draevyn’s words silenced them both, and something in Esmyra’s chest strained, remembering that he appeared to loathe his father just as much as she did.

As they approached the grand doors leading to the dining hall, she said something that surprised even herself.

“I’m sorry.” The words were barely a whisper, but she knew he heard them, judging by the slight flare of his eyes, as if he were shocked to hear the words from her—from anyone regarding his father.

The doors swung open before them, revealing the grand dining hall inside.

The council members were already seated at the long, decorated table, and the soft glow of merlight candles reflected off the tableware.

She took in the scene, her annoyance at Draevyn dissipating entirely, and now focused on finding out as much as she could—about her past and ties to Maerinys.

Within a matter of days, she had gone from taking over The Night Wraith to being seated in the heart of a lost kingdom’s power.

And Esmyra felt like she was about to be swept into that power, whether she liked it or not.

As she and Draevyn were led into the room, he leaned in toward her and whispered, “We need to make it out of here alive, and we’re vastly outnumbered. So do me a favor, Wildfire…” He paused and her heart thudded at the nickname. “And try not to kill anyone tonight.”

She shot him a sidelong glare, her lips curling into a smirk. “No promises.”

“There’s the siren I know. Fear doesn’t suit you, love.” He winked, and a warmth pooled in her stomach.

“There they are!” Syrena’s voice cut through the air, snapping Esmyra from her trance. “Esmyra and Draevyn, please, won’t you come take a seat?” Her smile beamed brightly.

Syrena sat at the head of the table with a golden crown atop her head, adorned with seashells, shimmering pearls, and jewels, as she gestured to the two seats at her side.

The council members sat in their places, clad in cream-colored robes. Their faces were impassive as they silently watched Esmyra and Draevyn as if they were unknown creatures within a gilded cage.

Reluctantly, Esmyra slid into the chair on her sister’s left, casting a quick glance at Draevyn as he sat on the opposite side. She tore her eyes away from him as she felt the weight of his gaze.

The queen’s voice broke the unbearable silence. “Welcome. And now that our guests have arrived, let the feast begin!”

The moment she spoke the words, doors burst open on all sides of the room, with maidens and butlers gliding through the great hall with covered trays in hand.

When they placed them scattered around the long table, the intricate covers were removed to reveal food of all kinds—kelp salad, oysters, seagrass risotto, and about ten other things Esmyra had never seen before, making her nose turn up.

Esmyra went to reach for a spoon, and Briar gasped from behind her before reaching for it herself and piling food on her plate, making Esmyra’s blood boil.

Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “Briar, this isn’t necessary. I’m more than capable.”

Yet her handmaiden ignored her, a look in her eye making it appear she was pleading for Esmyra to go along with it all.

She turned back around to face Draevyn, whose brows were furrowed as he poked at some type of tentacle with his fork. When his stare lifted to hers, both of them had to suppress a laugh. He moved his hand to scratch at his beard, covering his mouth before anyone else could see his smirk.

Esmyra fidgeted in her seat, her knee lightly bouncing under the table.

Syrena turned to her. “Esmyra, we’re curious to learn more about how you both found your way to Maerinys. And how it is you survived.”

The last part was pointed, the queen’s eyes flicking briefly to her before settling on Draevyn. Esmyra could feel the council’s attention sharpening, their gazes suddenly more intent. They were interested in more than just pleasantries—they wanted answers.

Draevyn leaned back in his chair, as calm and collected as ever, clearly used to these settings, while Esmyra was anything but. “Our paths crossed under…less than ideal circumstances,” he began smoothly, as if telling a casual story.

One of the council members, an older man with salt-and-pepper colored hair, leaned forward. “And what might those circumstances be?”

It was then, in that moment, Esmyra decided to keep anything they could a secret.

At least for now. They didn’t know these people, and were being held in a strange world, miles beneath the sea.

She wanted to get to know the one who called her ‘sister,’ yet her desire to return to the surface was far greater.

“Well?” another man interjected when neither of them responded quickly enough.

Draevyn was watching her, waiting to answer as if he could tell something wasn’t right.

Esmyra bit her bottom lip under his gaze, holding back the urge to say something snarky, but she knew she couldn’t afford to be reckless.

Instead, she forced herself to meet the council’s stares.

“A shipwreck,” she said flatly. “His ship had sunk not far from a small isle and I saved him from drowning.”

There was a murmur of interest around the table, the council exchanging glances. Syrena’s expression didn’t change, though Esmyra could tell she was weighing her words, and she wondered if she could sense the lie.

Draevyn’s eyes were burning a hole in the side of her cheek. They hadn’t discussed a plan—hadn’t had the time. And now they would be forced to go along with whatever they said here and now.

“And why were you in such southern waters, Draevyn?” Syrena asked.

His eyes never left Esmyra. “Was just a merchant sailor exploring new waters, is all,” he answered. “Got caught in the tides.”

“And what did you believe you would find in waters uncharted for hundreds of years?” Syrena challenged him.