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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

JAVIER

J avier was soaked to the bone, rain seeping into every layer of his clothing as he stood before the towering door of the Peacock Guild. He hesitated, staring at the golden symbol etched into the wood. He knew the door would be unlocked—Jessalyn’s invitation was good until dawn. It was late at night, but not too late.

The path to the guild was all too familiar. As a child, he had trailed after his father countless times, tagging along for endless nights of whispered plotting. But after his father’s death, he had been left outside, forced to peer through fogged windows as Jessalyn’s world carried on without him. Through the glass, he watched the orphans she plucked from the gutters, shaping them into loyal workers.

He shook the memory off and opened the door.

Warm light spilled out. Nostalgia prickled down his spine. The last time he’d stood here, his father had been preparing to set sail on a mission for Jessalyn. A mission that had cost him his life. Perhaps Javier was about to make the same mistake. But danger wasn’t something he feared; it was the fire that kept him alive. He moved quietly through the guild’s main hall. No one noticed him. Jessalyn sat at the center of the room, perched on a wooden chair with her legs crossed, a book resting casually in her hand. Nearby, a man knelt over a bloodied figure.

“What the hell is this?" Javier thought, his gaze landing first on Blade, Jessalyn’s ever-loyal watchdog. The man sat perched on a wooden crate, arms crossed, his expression carved from stone. Then he saw Irene. She looked exhausted, fighting against sleep, leaning heavily against the wall. One arm braced behind her, the other clutched a pistol at her side. Her heavy-lidded eyes followed the young man as he hovered over the unconscious woman, sweat dripping from his face while he stitched her torn flesh back together.

He plucked a delicate sculpture from a nearby shelf. Javier’s mouth twisted into a grin. “Three… two… one.”

Then, he dropped it. The crash shattered the silence.

Irene jolted awake, Jessalyn lowered her book slowly, her sharp eyes locking on him, and Blade was on his feet in an instant, sword drawn and body coiled like a predator.

Irene pushed off the wall, blinking rapidly. Javier waved lazily, offering the bag of corn nuts in his hand.

“Well, well. What a charming little family reunion,” he said, his grin sharpening. “Apologies for being late. I was busy carving my way through trouble.”

Javier hadn’t lied. After Jessalyn’s visit, he tempted fate one last time—stealing a barrel of rum and a pouch of gold before wagering it all at the Gambler’s Haven. If he won, he’d refuse her offer. But fate, as always, spat in his face. If fate had ever been kind, he would’ve been born on the right side of the city. Instead, he lost everything. He blamed Jessalyn for that—her words echoed relentlessly in his head: “More gold than Heaven itself.

Blade’s expression hardened the moment he recognized Javier. Instead of lowering his sword, he tightened his grip, knuckles whitening. Their feud stretched back four years—a grudge Javier relished provoking at every opportunity. Blade had arrived in the slums with nothing but a sword and tarnished knight’s armor, a fugitive seeking refuge. Jessalyn, ever merciful, had offered him sanctuary, and he’d risen swiftly to become her right hand.

Javier hated him for it. Not just for stealing the role he believed should have been his as the son of Jessalyn’s late best friend, but because Blade was a living reminder of everything Javier had lost.

Still, tonight wasn’t the night to settle scores. He couldn’t let the past distract him.

“Who left the door unguarded?” Blade barked.

Jessalyn rose from her seat, her voice calm but firm. “I did.”

Javier grinned, popping a corn nut into his mouth as he spread his arms wide in mock delight. “Aunty Jess!” he exclaimed, dragging out the nickname with theatrical cheer.

Blade spun to Jessalyn, his face twisting with fury. “Jess? Really? Jess? What is he doing here?”

Irene’s brow furrowed, her exhaustion giving way to suspicion. She stalked toward Jessalyn, ignoring Javier entirely. “This is a joke, right?” she snapped.

Jessalyn didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to the healer. “How long until she wakes?”

The healer glanced up, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Two hours, maybe three.”

Jessalyn nodded curtly. “Make it one.”

Blade stepped in front of her, his voice furious. “You can’t seriously expect me to work with him . He’s reckless. He’s a drunk.”

Javier clutched his chest theatrically. “You forgot handsome . Romantic. Hilarious.”

“Shut up, Javier,” Irene snapped.

Javier glanced at Irene, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Well, well, look who it is! Glad to see you in one piece. Heard your former crazy lover caused you some trouble… His men chased you straight into the slums, didn’t they?”

Irene clenched her teeth, her voice taut. “He’s not my lover.”

Javier winked, utterly unfazed. “Ah, either way, here we are! Finally on the same team!”

Irene didn’t turn around. “Why him? I thought you wanted discretion. He’s a Jackal—he could be working for Dax! He’s impulsive.”

“And you’re twice as impulsive,” Jessalyn retorted coolly.

“This quest is too important. He never takes anything seriously!” Irene snapped.

Javier smirked but knew exactly why she hated him being here. She hadn’t forgiven him for Aubrenhall. Two years ago, Irene had trusted him to help steal a ruby necklace from a certain noble, Lord Blackthorn on an island during a mission for the Vipers. But Javier had drunk too much, wrecked their ship on the rocks, and cost Irene not only her victory over Dax but also her reputation with Lorax, and the lives of eight pirates.

“I thought you wanted discretion,” said Irene and Blade.

Jessalyn’s gaze flicked between Irene and Blade as their protests overlapped. Finally, she silenced them with a cold, decisive remark. “He’s an excellent navigator,” she said to Blade, then turned to Irene. “And you’ll need a second-in-command. You asked for a crew. Here’s one.”

Irene’s brow furrowed, and she punched Blade’s chest without looking away from Jessalyn. “I have Blade. I don’t need him. I know the sea. I just need sailors, not?—”

Jessalyn stepped closer, her voice sharp as ice. “Blade will be useless when the storm hits, and you lose your course. And when your precious Tuli wakes, you’ll need someone skilled enough to follow her words"

Irene and Blade both started to speak at the same time: “But?—”

Jessalyn cut them off with two sharp strikes of her cane against the floor. Her voice was firm and final: “Enough! The next person who complains will be removed from this quest. And by ‘removed,’ I mean killed.”

Jessalyn turned and strode toward her office. Blade and Irene, still seething, exchanged sharp glares before slowly turning to face Javier.

Irene, her breathing heavy, glared at Javier before barking at Blade, “Keep an eye on the stranger.” Without waiting for a reply, she stormed out of the hall.

Javier placed a hand on his chest, feigning hurt. “Hey! I’m not a stranger!”

As she passed, her long strides brimming with fury, Irene shot him a dark look. “I said stranger, not idiot.”

Blade exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “By the seven seas, grant me patience…” he said as he followed Jessalyn into her office.

That left Javier alone in the room with the healer and the unconscious woman.

Javier strolled casually toward the long table, intending to make some sharp remark, but the sight of the injured woman stopped him. His smirk fell from his face.

Despite her injuries, she was breathtaking. An innocent beauty. She was as captivating as tasting honey for the first time, as breathtaking as a sunset bleeding orange over the sea’s horizon. Her rich brown skin, her delicately curved lips unsettled him, stirring something nameless deep within.

Javier’s throat tightened, but he quickly looked away, burying the feeling as his grin slid back.

He extended the bag of corn nuts with a flourish. “Want some?”

The healer didn’t even glance up, his focus entirely on the wounded woman. “No.”

Javier shrugged, tossing a few nuts into his mouth. He held out his hand. “Javier Soleno. And you?”

The man finally glanced at him, his hands still slick with blood. “Lan. Just Lan.”

"Pleasure’s mine, Lan the healer," Javier said, flashing a smile. He glanced at the doors, wondering where Jessalyn hid her rum. With a sigh and a grin, he said, “Ah… danger never felt so good.”