Page 10

Her golden eyes grow wide as her hand stills on the gun.

Wells’s mouth pops open like he might try to say something witty to distract Blythe.

As his mouth closes, I know it’s because he understands the gravity of the situation.

Our enemy is no ordinary pirate—one that can be easily fooled with a few cunning words.

No. Not Blythe. He has sailed the Aelynthi Sea his entire life.

Plundered ships greater than the king’s grandest naval vessels.

His ruthlessness is known across the Southern Realm and he would joyfully kill all three of us just to add to the unfinished marks upon his arms.

Their intervention would only cause more blood to be spilled upon the stones below my feet. And I won’t have that. I won’t have them be witnesses to my demise.

There must be a way out .

Slowly, I turn around to find that frigid smile on Blythe’s face—like the muscles in his cheeks aren’t quite sure what to make of the movement of his lips tilting upward.

Rage—as hot as the midday sun—sears the blood in my veins.

“You killed her,” I hiss, taking a step forward. The tip of his sword draws blood. The hot liquid spills down the column of my neck, but I feel no pain.

“She stole something that belongs to me.” He snorts, like taking her life was no big matter. Like the moment he walks away from this he will forget she ever existed.

I narrow my eyes on him. “And what is it that belongs to you?” I inch closer, finally feeling the sting of his blade cut further into my skin as the weight of the Serpent’s Key hangs heavy in my coat.

Raven’s death . . . I can’t have it mean nothing.

“The Serpent’s Key belongs to me now, Blythe.” I pat the right breast of my coat where the artifact is snug inside the inner pocket.

Something shifts in his gaze and his eyes track somewhere behind me. Then I feel a strong shift in the wind, like it bends to whatever—or whomever—is behind me.

Blythe’s sword wavers off my throat for a second, giving me just the time I need to slip away.

But the moment I turn my back on him, he’s there, gripping the side of my neck like a vice.

“Try to run again and I’ll slit your throat just like I did hers.

” He yanks me hard into his chest and replaces the sword he had at my throat just moments ago with a dagger.

Looking down, I see the coagulated blood—Raven’s blood—on the steel blade.

I try to fight against him, but he towers over me and the pressure he puts on my injured shoulder sends near blinding pain down my body.

But even the pain isn’t enough to hide the roar of fear that rings through my mind the moment my vision clears and I settle my eyes upon the one pirate more fearsome than the one at my back.

Grayson Tyde .

Here. At Silvermoon Landing. Stalking straight toward me with his crew in tow.

Not even the King’s most prized stallion could match the racing of my heart as I watch the world’s darkness bend toward Grayson, like the very stars and moon aren’t enough to light the gloom that trails his footsteps.

Blythe stills behind me. Even he has the smarts to know that Grayson is the most formidable foe now that the old gods have all but abandoned us.

It is one thing to have watched Grayson from afar. To have heard the tales of his cruelty from the mouths of others. It is another thing entirely to bear witness to his power myself.

Larger than any man I’ve ever seen, his broad shoulders are hidden beneath his white tunic and leather coat that just barely dusts the ground as he walks.

Ebony hair flows freely around his face in soft waves that fall just past his shoulders.

He does not wear a captain’s hat like all other pirate lords who sail the Aelynthi Sea.

He has no need of one. There isn’t a soul in the entire Southern Realm who doesn’t know his face. A striking one at that.

The closer he comes, the more I can see why people are both in awe and in fear of him.

A strong jaw falls below thick lips that can only be described as the shade of a gentle sunset’s pink sky.

The curve of a jagged scar runs over the swell of his right cheekbone.

Strange for an immortal to have such a wound.

Whatever caused it must have been gruesomely wicked to leave a lasting mark on the ageless.

Some part of me forgets that Blythe still stands at my back with a blade to my throat as Grayson stops just a few paces from us, for the foe at my back is child’s play compared to the monster who stands before me.

Raw power radiates off Grayson in dark rippling waves and I wonder if some ancient part of him does possess the old magick—the kind that goes beyond basic parlor tricks that earn half-breeds a few extra coin every night.

The kind that some say the old gods stole away from our world after the Heavenly War nearly destroyed us all.

“What are you doing he?—”

“Silence.” Grayson’s low voice booms in an echoing command. I hear Blythe swallow behind me. His weight shifts and the blade of his dagger falls away from my skin.

Quickly eyeing the rest of Grayson’s crew, I take note of how well-kept they appear. Not a single one of them has a beard hair out of place or a smudge of dirt on their faces. They look healthy, strong, and well-dressed. None of them appear like most pirates do: disheveled, wind swept, and drunk.

Strange .

Grayson takes another step forward and I immediately shift my gaze to him. Remembering what my father taught me—never turn your back on a predator.

Blythe moves to take a step back, releasing his hold on me. “Coward,” I mutter under my breath.

Grayson huffs as though I’ve humored him. When he closes the distance between us, I still the shaking of my body and raise my chin a little higher. I won’t let him see me afraid.

Not now.

Not ever.

I tilt my head back further to meet his eyes.

Blessed stars, his eyes.

A mirror of the ocean’s surface, Grayson’s irises are a sapphire blue with flecks of white, like glittering stars cast across the sea. The colors seem to move—much like the ocean herself, never able to stand still. Not even for a moment.

I’m in awe of them. Captivated, like the first time I gazed upon the darkened heavens while sailing the Aelynthi Sea.

Stricken from my stupor, I notice the rise of his hand as he reaches for a lock of my hair. Frozen, I’m forced to watch as he moves his fingers over the strands, down to where my mother’s pearl is secured.

His ocean eyes meet mine as he says, “What a mess you’ve made, Little Pearl.”

For a breath, my heart stops. The space between us is charged. It would only take a single swipe of his dagger and I’d be lost forever. Just another forgotten soul claimed by his blade.

“She stole from me, Captain Grayson.” Blythe’s voice shakes as he speaks, but somehow the coward finds his words. “I haven’t broken The Code—as she has. I’m just here to take back what belongs to me.”

Grayson doesn’t even look up at Blythe as he drops the lock of my hair then grips my chin between his fingers. I suck in a breath, waiting for the blow I know is coming.

“Find your treasure somewhere else, Blythe.” Grayson’s head tilts to the side, assessing me with that subtle grin that sparks some hidden part of me. It screams danger. And that same hidden part of me relishes in it.

Grayson’s thumb traces over the edge of my mouth before he says, “This one’s mine.”