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Grayson stops mid-stride, shooting me a dangerous look over his shoulder.

He says nothing, but a shimmer of silver catches my eye ahead of him. The man who slayed Blythe’s crew member’s palms another throwing knife. Grayson shifts his attention to Amara and Wells.

My blood runs cold as ice. “No,” I breathe, but the word gets lost to the growing wind.

“You would do better to heed my command, Rowenya Stone. It would be a pity for more blood to be spilled upon the stones beneath your feet,” he growls, tossing the threat over his shoulder like it makes no difference to him if I go or choose to take my chances and run.

That’s because he knows there is no hope for me.

There is no world in which I get out of here alive.

No world in which Amara and Wells don’t pay for the consequences of my actions.

I am trapped. With nowhere to go but onto the ship of the most notorious pirate lord and his deadly crew.

Running my fingertips over the edge of the golden box, a seed of hope plants in my chest. A seed so small its fragility could be destroyed within a second. But it’s there. Ready to grow.

“May I say goodbye?” I ask Grayson.

Holding my breath, I watch him and wait for his response.

A hue of the rising sunlight shines across his devastatingly handsome face.

The pink of his scar brightens a shade as dawn breaks behind me.

A blue so pure it rivals the sea herself reflects back at me as I see the answer in his eyes right before he nods.

He knows there is no risk in it. Not when most of his crew are at his back and there’s nowhere for us to run where we wouldn’t be caught—or stabbed in the back.

Letting out a rush of air from my lungs, heat pricks the corners of my eyes as I rush to Amara and Wells, ignoring the stabbing pain in my shoulder.

When I reach them, Amara takes me into her arms before Wells wraps his around the both of us.

“I’m sorry,” I tell them, letting the tears fall. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hush, now,” Amara says, hugging me tighter.

Snickers and crude comments flitter across the morning air from Grayson’s crew. To the hells with them. None of them know the meaning of family. The significance of losing someone that fucking matters .

Amara and Wells pull away, silver lines both of their eyes. Amara wipes the moisture from my cheeks with her thumbs then holds my face between her hands. “Remember who you are. Remember who’s blood runs through your veins, Rowenya. Do not fear them. Do not let them take everything you’ve built.”

“How can I not when everything we’ve worked for—Raven died for—is lost? To them! ” I point behind me at Grayson and his crew.

Wells places a hand on my shoulder, his tone serious as he says, “We have lost many things during our time together, Captain. Many lives. Many treasures. Still, your crew would follow you to the depths of the Orrian Trench should you tell us to. And we would follow you because we have faith in you. Faith in your judgment. Let this not be the end.” He leans down so we are face-to-face, his grip on my shoulder tightening.

“Let this be a different beginning—one we did not plan for, but a beginning, nonetheless.”

The morning light sends rays of gold in all directions as I move the Serpent’s Key over in my hand.

“You mean to take the treasure back once Grayson finds it,” I say, the words barely a breath.

“Once you help him find it,” Amara chimes in. “He clearly needs your help translating the old language. I’d bet my wager of the gold not a man on his crew was trained as you were. The Trinity will trail behind him?—”

“No,” I cut her off.

“He’ll never see us coming,” she argues. “Not in the Trinity .”

“It’s time to go, Rowenya Stone!” Someone behind me yells. Not Grayson, but some other member of his crew.

I grip Amara’s hands and give them a firm squeeze. “Don’t trail us. I can’t risk losing you.”

Amara and Wells look at one another nervously. They don’t like the idea of having no way to track me.

“I’ll do my best to get word out to you when I can. But you must take the crew and leave this place. Red Beard will hear of the developments soon and there won’t be a corner of Esoros you can hide in where he won’t find you and kill you.”

“We’ll head for Emerald Cove and take refuge there until we hear from you,” Amara says.

“Yes,” I respond.

I look behind me to where Raven’s body is still crumpled against the wall. My heart breaks from the look of her. How someone so bright, so wonderful, has been transformed into nothing more than a heap of flesh and bone on a dirty street.

When I turn back to them, I say, “Give her a proper farewell so her soul may rest in the heavens. She doesn’t need to linger here any longer.”

They both nod.

I take in their faces, casting them to memory. “I’ll see you soon,” I say, knowing the words are a lie.

“Soon,” they both agree.

Then I turn my back on them and step toward a fate that not even I could see coming.

Staggered in the middle of Grayson’s crew, I follow a few paces behind him as we board the Caelestia .

It’s the largest ship in the port by far.

Peering over the side of the walking plank, I take note of the three rows of gun ports where countless cannons sleep behind them, ready to fire at Grayson’s will.

“Keep moving,” one of the men behind me growls before shoving his shoulder into the center of my back, nearly making me topple over the side.

I catch myself and turn to sneer at him.

“I don’t think your captain would take kindly to you losing his prized possession.

” I take the Serpent’s Key from my coat pocket and toss it into the air in front of him.

Then I take a step forward until our noses almost touch.

“Touch me again and we’ll see who ends up at the bottom of the sea. ”

His brown eyes sharpen and there’s a quiver in the muscles to the right of his nose.

Just as I suspected, he’s one of the weak ones.

Easily angered with little wits. As he draws his fist back, I ready myself to duck from his blow, but right as he hurls his punch at me, a large hand grasps his wrist.

A shadow looms over me from where Grayson’s body blocks the rising sun. “Not this one, Flynn.”

The man named Flynn yanks his arm out of Grayson’s hold and murmurs, “Yes, Captain,” before shoving his way past us and stepping onto the deck.

“Smart,” Grayson huffs at me.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Trying to seek out which of my men struggle to maintain control over themselves.”

I say nothing and he smirks at me before his gaze shifts, raking over the scene of his ship and crew.

“Make no mistake, Little Pearl. I see all that transpires on my ship.” He dips his head so that only I can hear him.

“Should you wish to tempt one of my men again, I won’t be there to stand in the way next time.

Given the events you saw this morning, I would be very careful which ones you decide to provoke. ”

He runs his finger down the side of my face and I hate how my body reacts. A wave of heat, not from the warmth of the rising sun, cascades down my body. “ How many times have I told you to stay away from dangerous things? ” I can hear my mother’s voice as though she were standing right beside me.

“I would hate for one of them to ruin such a beautiful prize.”

Turning my cheek away in a rush, I close my eyes against the sun’s assault. “I am no prize of yours.”

With a clasp of his fingers on my chin, I try to resist him as he turns my face back toward his. When I open my eyes, there’s mischief dancing across those blue irises. “We’ll see about that.”

Then he drops my chin and ushers past me, leaving me at the mercy of the rest of his crew.

Taking that final step onto his ship, I roam my eyes over the fine details.

Intricate carvings of the moon and stars are etched into the walls of the quarterdeck.

Beneath them lies a tumultuous depiction of the sea during a storm.

Angry waves threaten to spill over the sides of a ship that must represent the Caelestia , given the uncanny resemblance of the drawing to the ship.

My gaze is drawn to where Grayson stands with his hands placed on the railing. The blond man who killed Blythe’s crew members is to his right, his face twisted in a cruel scowl as he monitors those working below. He must be Grayson’s quartermaster—and skilled assassin.

I make a note to steer clear of him.

Looking higher still, the ship’s flag flaps graciously in the wind.

It is black—as all pirate flags are—with a crescent moon shining high above a sea of waves.

A perfect depiction of the Caelestia is embroidered above the white-capped waves.

No skulls or crossing swords. No indication that Grayson Tyde is a notorious killer, despite the blood that stains his hands.

Though, I know the truth. He may have beautiful carvings etched into the wood of his ship and a majestic flag that makes it seem like he is harmless to those in the Northern Realm who have never encountered him before.

But the truth lies in his actions. The scene played out before me just this morning as his quartermaster killed several of Blythe’s men in cold blood was truth enough.

Grayson Tyde lives up to his reputation as the most dangerous pirate in the Southern Realm and there is only one thought that keeps running through my mind.

I need to get off of this ship .