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S hould any monster take me, I hope it is the roaring mouth of the sea.

The thought of being lost to the strike of a sword or the heat of fire sends a shiver down my spine. I would much prefer the peaceful quiet of my head submerged beneath the waves as the subtle lull of the current pulls me under.

The sea is where I have always belonged. I am made of water and salt. It has been bred into my bones, etched into my soul.

One day, it shall claim me—but that day is not today.

Fire erupts along the horizon, where the ocean meets the stars. Cannon fire blasts, sending shards of wood and metal in all directions—surely, a violent end for the scoundrels being lit up by Grayson Tyde’s attack.

Shadowed whispers speak of his cruelty and disdain for others. It is said that he shows no discretion when it comes to the swiping of his blade. He kills at will—never letting another get in the way of the prizes he desires.

The entire realm cowers before him. Even the king has turned a blind eye to Grayson’s escapades for fear of his wrath. He goes unchecked. Unchallenged.

I watch from the rocky shoreline of Esoros’s port as the ships open fire yet again, igniting the dark smear of night with flashes of firelight.

It won’t be long before Grayson claims yet another prize, one that likely belonged to many others before him.

Every ignition of cannon fire sends another soul to the watery depths.

Such is the life of a pirate. Especially ones that get in the way of Grayson and his .

. . endeavors . I have done my best to stay away from him and his ruthless crew while still observing from afar.

They say once he turns his eyes upon you, there is no safe place in all the Aelynthi Sea to hide from him.

To be that powerful . . . To have people quiver from the mere mention of your name . . .

What I would do for that kind of power…

Boots scrape over the rocks behind me. Instinctively, my hand slides over the dagger at my hip. Silvermoon Landing is no place to be caught off guard—but as I twist to see who’s approaching, my fingers release their grip from the hilt and my shoulders loosen.

Amara, my quartermaster, takes a long slug from the bottle in her hand.

Red wine dribbles down her chin as she polishes off the remaining liquid and slams the empty container against a boulder beneath the seawall, where it shatters.

Fragments of glass shimmer from the full moon overhead as they twist and twirl through the water below.

“You’re in rare form tonight,” I say over my shoulder at her.

She slides her bronze eyes towards me, and I note the glassy film of them that only hours deep in the bottle can bring about.

Wiping the back of her hand down her chin, she unsteadily makes her seat on the seawall beside me. “I lost my bed mate to a damn sea witch with red hair and two teeth. The bastard had to pay her a shilling too!”

A grin splits my face. “I’m sorry for your loss, Amara. But I’m certain there will be another debaucherous fellow willing to bed you, should you want it.”

She snorts. “Claude was the one I wanted, Rowenya. The bastard told me he would wait for me the last time we left port. Now, he shoves me off for a damn sea witch.”

My head tilts to the side. “She does have a split tongue.” I shrug.

Glassy eyes wide, Amara beholds me like I’ve grown a second head. “And now I’ve been betrayed a second time. By my own Captain, no less.”

Before I can respond, another cannon blast pierces the night air.

We both look to the horizon and witness the sinking of another ship at Grayson’s hand.

Loud cracks and gurgling sounds skitter across the water’s surface as the Sea Dragon slowly makes its decent to the ocean floor, along with her captain and the rest of her crew.

“A monster in the night, that one,” Amara whispers. “Pretty soon there won’t be any of us left who he hasn’t pillaged or sent to the depths.”

Grayson Tyde is the most revered pirate in the entire Southern Realm.

Ruthless to his inky core, it is known that crossing him means certain death or worse.

Fitz—the captain of the Sea Dragon —made a fatal mistake by sending a few of his men onto Grayson’s ship in search of loot.

Now they’re all paying the consequence for it. Idiots .

Folks say the sea calls to Grayson—showing him the path to those who betray him so he might feed the briny darkness with their souls.

Immortal, he was thought to be hexed by the Dark Moon witches to walk this earth as a vampyre—forever craving the blood of his victims. Other rumors suggest he betrayed the Queen of the Mer and she cursed him to sail the Aelynthi Sea forever—always waiting for the moment she might take pity on him and set him free.

I do not know what he truly is and I hope I never shall.

“Which is why we need to leave Esoros at dawn,” I say. “Did you set the meeting with Red Beard?”

“Aye. He requests we meet him upon the hour.”

“Good.”

I look back to the horizon, stars twinkling in the sky—a beautiful backdrop to the painful screams of death skating over the water.

Goosebumps rise along my flesh as I imagine Grayson Tyde turning his eyes on me, waiting for a mistake.

A single falter that will have him raising his sails and steering the Caelestia straight for me.

My boots clunk over the sticky floor of the tavern as Amara and I wind our way through the crowd toward a door in the back.

Grumbles and curses shoot my way from every corner. Some utter their insults in hushed whispers, while others holler their disdain for me loudly.

I do not let them see the way their hatred marks my soul.

My father’s name— my name —has been tainted twice over, now.

Every pirate in here knows it. But I do not let them see what it has done to me.

Eyes trained ahead, I raise my chin a little higher.

I do what I must to survive in this cursed world, even if that means betraying The Code.

Not that the choice was given to me; my fate was decided long ago.

Suddenly, Amara’s hand is gripping my shoulder, forcing me to duck down right in time to miss the bowl of soup careening toward the back of my head. It clacks into the wooden pillar next to my face, brown goo splashing everywhere and dripping to the floor.

Everybody goes silent.

Stony rage settles deep within me. It takes all my might to keep my palm free of my dagger. Spilling blood here tonight would only worsen matters for me.

“Betrayer!” a man yells, his tone sharp.

I know the culprit before my eyes land on him. Blythe Quint. Scarred lines trail down his forearms and along the sliver of tanned chest that peeks out through the V shape of his tunic. Every raised line represents a kill and Blythe’s body is covered in them.

Blythe has always made his thoughts about me well known. He is a pirate ten generations over. The Code is not just a guideline for him to follow—it’s his religion. And I have broken The Code’s most salient law more times than I can count.

My soul was sold to the devil and every pirate in the Southern Realm wants a piece of me before I receive orders to hunt them down. Blythe hasn’t shown up on Red Beard’s bounty list yet, but that doesn’t mean his time isn’t coming.

There was a time when pirates ruled the sea and answered to no one. Not even the previous kings. Now, our numbers are dwindling. My contribution to those efforts is certainly no help. But I do what I must to survive.

I snarl at Blythe. He may be a notorious killer, but even he would not see the Trinity coming for him, should he sour my mood any further.

Leaf green eyes settle on me as he wipes droplets of lager from his chestnut beard. He has made his point to his crew and the rest of the patrons in the tavern. He desires to see my head on a platter and I know one day our mutual loathing will finally come to a head.

So be it.

I have chased and been chased across the Southern Realm my entire life. Having one more pirate take interest in separating my head from my body makes no difference to me.

“Come, Amara,” I say to her over my shoulder, keeping my eyes locked on Blythe.

“We have much to discuss with Red Beard.” I say the words loud enough for most of the tavern to hear, and I don’t miss the way Blythe’s eyes flare in response.

He’s caught my meaning, my threat. I may be a Code breaker, but there’s still fight in us, and every pirate in this hell hole knows it.

Striding away from Blythe and his crew, Amara follows closely behind. We almost make it to the guard standing watch by the back door . . .

Almost .

A large wall of a man steps into my path, and I groan.

“Don’t worry, little snake, you may be a slippery serpent, but I’ll still warm your bed,” the drunken sailor says, before taking a long swig of his ale.

Bile rises in my throat when he belches into my face, his putrid breath making my eyes water.

Ale drips down his wiry beard and some splatters onto the toe of my leather boot.

Fucking hells . I just shined them this morning.

“Not interested,” I retort with a sneer, shoving my way past him.

Not a moment later, and I feel his grimy paw land on my rear. A loud smack permeates the air and I freeze. The bastard just slapped my ass .

I whirl to face him, dagger already unsheathed and against his throat.

“Touch me again and you will lose more than your hand!” I lower the dagger down the center of his chest, over his protruding belly, and further still until it lands just above where his miserable cock is likely hiding like a worm under the ground.

“I’ll sever your favorite member and make you choke on it. ”

These fucking scoundrels never know when enough is enough. “I didn’t mean no harm, Captain Stone. Was all in good fun.”

I shove the tip of my dagger against his shirt until the soiled fabric blooms crimson.