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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

IRENE

I rene swayed gently, eyes closed, to the rhythm of the melody Javier hummed behind the helm. Her fingers tapped lightly against the ship’s railing, each tap sending a faint vibration through the worn wood beneath her palms. The morning light kissed her skin, soft and golden, while the sharp, salty ocean breeze tugged at her curls. Warmth and cold met in perfect contrast, like two forces locked in an endless dance. For once, everything felt… right.

She wasn’t good at naming emotions. But if she had to give this strange feeling a name—this rare, fleeting calm—it might be something close to joy. Not the loud, jubilant kind, but a quiet warmth, like sunlight slipping through cracks in heavy clouds. It settled in her chest, unfamiliar but comforting. A reprieve from the storm. A moment where she could almost believe the chaos had left her alone.

The sea… it had always been her solace, her only escape. Now, with it stretching endlessly around her, she felt untouchable, as if nothing, no past, no enemy, no consequence, could reach her here. The chaos they had left behind was just a distant echo, transformed into something beautiful, like the melody Javier hummed. They had burned the port. She had humiliated Dax. And now, they were free.

Irene let the wind whip around her, filling her lungs with the scent of the open sea. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt alive. Zahra was hunched over the maps, trying to unravel their cryptic secrets. Meanwhile, the prince remained deliciously trapped below deck. Irene felt invincible. That night at the port, she hadn’t cared who stood in her way—kings, nobles, commanders, soldiers. They were all the same: obstacles to crush beneath her boot. She had sworn to flay them alive, to spill their guts in the name of vengeance. No one would ever imprison her again.

She drew in a deep breath of salty sea air, exhaling slowly, savoring the moment. In her mind, she wrapped her hands around Dax’s throat, squeezing until his ragged gasps were silenced. She could almost taste the triumph, almost hear the last, pitiful breath he’d draw before regret twisted his face. When she returned to the slums, with the sapphire in one hand and a mountain of gold in the other, they would sing her name across the six kingdoms. The greatest pirate.

“Captain!” Lan’s shout cut through her thoughts. Javier’s humming stopped. Irene’s eyes snapped open.

Irene snapped her head toward Lan, eyes narrowing under the harsh glare of the sun. “The prince… he’s waking up,” Lan breathed, his voice low but urgent. A shiver sparked down Irene’s spine, igniting something raw beneath her skin. Her heart pounded, not from fear, but from anticipation. Her lips curled into a smirk. “Finally,” she said. Without hesitation, she motioned for Lan to lead the way. He descended the steps into the hold below. Irene followed, her pace quick. Javier right behind her. Footsteps thudded close on their heels as Blade and Hezra trailed after them. On deck, Zahra, perched at the ship’s edge, noticed the rush of movement. She sprang to her feet before she followed them.

They reached the hold. Daylight leaked through the gaps in the planks above, casting thin, shifting beams across the damp floor. The air was thick and humid, clinging to their skin.

Irene slowed, raising a hand—a silent order for the others to stop. Before her stood the iron cell: dark, imposing, its thick bars dull with rust.

Inside, Prince Jace lay on a battered mattress, his body wracked with fever. His skin was pale, his features hollowed, a ghost of the boy Irene had met—the one who had shown her the painting of the sea. Now, he looked fragile, caught in some silent struggle. His eyelids twitched, the restless movements betraying a troubled dream.

Lan broke the silence. “He’s still burning up. Not handling the journey well. But I dressed his wounds… he’ll live.”

Irene didn’t respond. Her eyes stayed locked on Jace, studying him like a predator watching prey.

“He’ll wake soon,” Zahra whispered from behind her.

“He’s dreaming,” Hezra muttered, leaning over the rail of the stairs, her gaze fixed on the prince.

“Quiet,” Irene hissed, stepping closer to the cell.

Blade’s voice cut through the stillness. “Maybe we should wake him up.”

“You idiot! That’d bring bad luck!” Javier snapped, shoving Blade aside.

The sound of their voices seemed to reach the prince’s ears. Irene watched the labored rise and fall of his chest, his breath shallow and uneven, strands of blond hair sticking to his damp, fevered forehead. Fragments of memory rushed through her mind—the night of the abduction, the weight of him slumped against her, his warmth pressing into her chest, stark against the chill of the night air.

“Please… I…” Jace’s voice broke through the haze, weak and delirious.

Behind Irene, the crew’s chatter rose, a grating noise in her ears.

Without a word, she moved toward a bucket of water, lifted it, and hurled its contents through the bars.

The cold splash hit the prince like a slap. Silence fell over the crew.

The water crashed down on the prince, dragging him out of his fevered haze. He jolted upright, shivering, his body rigid from the shock. Irene’s gaze never wavered.

“Out,” she ordered, her tone cold and final. For once, they obeyed without protest.

Recognition flickered briefly in the prince’s eyes—fragmented memories clawing their way to the surface. His gaze locked on her, confusion shifting into something darker.

With a grimace, he forced himself upright, each movement tearing through him with pain.

Irene stepped closer to the iron bars, her gaze locking onto the prince’s eyes with unsettling intensity. Jace blinked rapidly, struggling to discern if she was real—or just a lingering specter from his fevered dreams. But reality hit him with cruel clarity. This nightmare was real. Instinctively, he backed away, pressing himself against the cold, damp wall of his cell.

“Finally… His Royal Highness has woken up,” Irene said with a smile. With deliberate ease, she dragged a chair across the floor and sat in front of his cell, her eyes never leaving him.

“So? How do you like your new place?” she asked, eyes wide and smiling. Jace blinked again, his thoughts spiraling in confusion. He opened his mouth, but only a fractured, panicked sound came out. “What… what do you want from me… you—you’re a pi-pi?—”

“A pirate?” Irene finished, the word rolling off her tongue with easy confidence. “Yes…”

“May the gods be with me…” he whispered, half in prayer, half in terror.

Irene’s smile faltered, her expression twisting with offense. “Oh… what an ungrateful prince you are!” she sneered. “Look at you—you’re finally sailing the seas, seeing the world just like you always wanted. And this is how you thank me?”

She leaned in, her eyes gleaming with playful intent, studying his face. “You seemed so much bolder the other night. You weren’t scared of me—in fact, it was quite the opposite,” she teased, watching as a flush crept up Jace’s neck. He turned his head, trying to hide his embarrassment. Irene still remembered his kindness, the way his eyes had traced her face and body.

“So, how do we do this, huh?” Irene continued, leaning back in her chair. “I explain everything now, and then you cry later? Or do you want to cry first, and then I explain?” Her tone was cheerful, but there was something terrifyingly genuine in her question.

“I…” Jace began, his voice barely a whisper, broken and unsure.

“You’re right! I’ll explain first!” she interrupted clapping her hands together. She cleared her throat in an exaggerated manner, her posture shifting to something mockingly regal. “From now on, you’re part of my incredible crew!” She paused, savoring the moment.

“And you… will have the honor of playing a very special role.” She leaned forward, grinning wickedly. “That of the hostage.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and charged. Jace stared at her, wide-eyed, still trying to process her words.

“So, yes, we’ll be spending some time together—cut off from the world, but!” She raised a finger. “I truly believe this will be memorable.”

Jace stiffened. He tried to rise to his feet, his legs weak beneath him. His eyes flicked over Irene’s figure, desperation in his breath. “Set me free, and I will cover every curve of your body in gold,” he said, his voice trembling but determined.

Irene arched a brow. “Oh, really? You’re locked up, tied up, and you think you’re in a position to offer me a reward?” She tilted her head, studying him with a mix of amusement and disdain. “You’re either the bravest idiot I’ve ever met—or the stupidest.”

“But—” Jace started, only for Irene to cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand.

“Enough. My turn to ask a question.” She leaned forward again, her eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. “What’s your favorite color?”

Jace hesitated, caught off guard by the absurdity of the question. “Uh—uh, gold?”.

“I knew it!” Irene exclaimed, slapping her thigh. “See? We already have something in common. I love gold too.”

“Why am I here?” Jace repeated, his voice steadier this time, growing weary of Irene’s teasing tone.

Irene’s playful edge disappeared in a heartbeat. “Because you’re the son of your father.”

Jace’s breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth, searching for words, but none came. Irene’s smirk deepened as she saw the spark of realization flicker in his eyes. He understood now.

Jace shook his head, a mix of anger and desperation crawling to the surface. He forced himself to stand fully, his legs shaking beneath him, and stumbled toward the bars. His eyes burned. “I won’t let you steal from my father,” he said, his voice cracking but resolute.

Irene stood and approached the bars of the cell with a feline grace until they were face to face. She shook her head, then replied in the most innocent manner, eyes down, “No. No, no. We’re not going to steal from your father,” she whispered. Then, stepping back, she lifted her gaze to meet Jace’s and added with a quiet sigh, “You will.”

Jace’s eyes widened in shock. Footsteps echoed on the stairs. Irene’s head snapped toward the sound. Blade stood frozen midway down. “They’re here.”

Without another glance, he turned and vanished back up to the main deck.

Irene gave Jace a final look before heading for the stairs. Suddenly, Jace's voice cut through the air. “They’ll find me,” he said.

Irene stopped. She turned back to him, a smirk curling on her lips. “I hope so.”

Irene reached the deck. Blade handed her a spyglass without a word. She raised it to her eye, scanning the endless stretch of sea until her gaze locked on a distant silhouette—a royal Eldorian ship. “How long before they catch up?”

“Just long enough for us to reach the position we want,” Javier answered, his tone steady.

Irene considered it for a beat, then gave a curt nod. “Hold course. Operation Little Dolphin has begun.”

“Yes, Captain!” "Javier tightened his grip on the helm. Blade sprinted across the deck to alert the crew. Everyone sprang into action, rushing below deck. Irene led the charge, her boots thudding hard against the wooden steps. They reached Jace’s cell, and Irene ordered, “Food! Water! Now!” before unlocking the door. Blade, Hezra, and Lan entered, lifting the prince to his feet. A flask of water and a chunk of bread were shoved into his hands.

Jace hesitated, casting a wary glance at Irene, but the loud growl of his stomach betrayed him. He snatched the bread and devoured it. The crew stood back, watching him in silence.

“Hezra?” Irene called out.

“Yes, Captain!” Hezra replied instantly.

“I want you to take care of his face. He needs to look like he barely escaped death…” Irene said, studying Jace’s features as he chewed slowly.

Hezra stepped closer, tilting Jace’s chin with her hand, inspecting him carefully. “I can make that happen,” she murmured.

“Good. Don’t touch his eyes, I like them,” Irene added with a faint smirk. Jace flushed red.