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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

IRENE

T he first day of negotiations had been a complete, useless disaster. Irene should’ve known. The spark of madness she’d lit would eventually consume her too. It was foolish to expect progress when mistrust hung thick and words were left unspoken. Hearts weighed heavy, minds restless. Yet, around the two ships, an eerie calm lingered, too quiet—like the ocean itself was holding its breath, offering a brief reprieve before dragging them into the depths.

Still, the plan had worked. She’d bought three days for Zahra to decipher the maps without being hunted. A green-blue mist clung to the air, as if the ocean had stained the low-hanging clouds. The silence was heavy, broken only by the soft murmur of waves brushing the hulls and the faint clink of metal armor. A deceptive peace.

On the StormBreaker, Irene’s crew had settled into a fragile routine. Hezra and Blade whispered quietly, their murmurs blending with the low voices of Zahra and Javier, bent over the maps. Irene and Lan kept a watchful eye on the prince.

Across the water, Roderick’s soldiers stood still and rigid. Even the commander had choked down his rage.

Irene had caught a glimpse of the fragments Zahra was deciphering—no marked paths, no named seas, no carved routes. Just dense, cryptic words suspended in emptiness. Their only hope of finding that cursed sapphire now rested in the precision of Zahra’s sharp mind.

Irene stood on the deck, her gaze lost in the fog-drenched horizon. She hadn’t slept all night. Every time her eyes closed, memories surged like a flood—the night of flames. She relieved it, again and again.

The heart-wrenching screams of the pirates, burning like human torches, still echoed in her mind. Beneath their cries, she could still hear that terrible sound. The groaning, cracking timbers, deep and beastly, like the death rattle of a giant swallowed by the sea. She had known those men, shared battles and scars with them. Her first crew. They had cursed her as they burned, their agony seared into her memory forever. They had blamed her for their damnation, all because it had been her turn to guard. She had wanted to scream back, to tear her throat raw shouting the truth. It wasn’t my fault! It was Dax who had told her to sleep.

They say that, when facing death, your life flashes before your eyes. That happy memories rise to ease the pain and offer a final comfort. Lies. For Irene, there was no peace, no soothing visions—perhaps because she had none. There was only confusion and agony. That night, as the waves dragged her under and icy water burned her lungs, a single thought emerged: absurd, pathetic, and so utterly human it mocked her. She was dying, and all she could think was: I need to pee. She was going to die, and she was going to pee herself. A thought so miserable, and ridiculous, it perfectly captured the cruelty of the moment. She had screamed for help, her voice raw with panic. But all she’d heard was the sound of Dax leaving as he shouted to the last survivors that no one was left. Tied up. Beaten. Drowned into unconsciousness. Betrayed by the boy she had grown up with. And in the midst of that unbearable humiliation, the only thought that had clawed its way through her fractured mind was her desperate need to pee.

Irene exhaled slowly, forcing the memory back into its cage. She blinked her tears away, turning her focus to the present. Under the light rain that began to fall, she leaned against the ship’s railing. The wind tangled through her hair as raindrops clung to her skin. They fell with soft taps against the wooden deck, their rhythm soothing.

Irene tilted her head toward the sky, the faint rain kissing her skin. The man who had reduced her life to ashes—for a handful of gold and a fleeting moment of attention—stood only a few feet away, plotting in the shadows. Negotiations were about to begin. So she would negotiate. She would bargain with the devil himself if it came to that. Anything to waste Dax’s time, to hold his focus just long enough to outsmart him. To set sail and chase the fragment of a map that leads her to the sapphire. Behind her, boots struck the deck with a thud. Irene’s shoulders stiffened, a chill creeping up her spine. She didn’t turn. She didn’t need to. She knew it was him.

Javier stood beside her, his gaze fixed on the visitors approaching. He asked, “Ready for negotiations, Captain?” Irene straightened slowly, inhaling deeply to steady the adrenaline coursing through her veins. "Ready," she replied. Finally, she turned to face them. Dax stood at the other end of the ship, a soldier at his side, his eyes locking onto hers. The icy blend of blue and gray had never seemed as piercing as it did now. Irene held his stare, unflinching.

Irene and Javier advanced cautiously, their steps deliberate, while Dax and his soldier closed the distance. Irene’s gaze flicked to the Cordelia, where Commander Roderick loomed at the railing, his sharp features carved with distrust and simmering impatience. The length of the StormBreaker stretched endlessly between them.

Dax and his soldier were now just a step away. Without taking his eyes off Dax, Javier leaned slightly toward Irene. A tight smile tugged at his lips. “Just between us, Captain... how far are you willing to go for the sapphire?”

Irene didn’t blink, her gaze locked on Dax. “Six feet under.”

Javier’s smile faltered, as he stared at her. “Remind me never to bet against you,” he muttered.

They finally stood face to face. Dax gave a slight nod to his soldier, who cleared his throat and said, “Weapons.”

Irene moved slowly, pulling out her knife, her pistol, and finally her sword. She handed them to Javier, her movements deliberate, her eyes never leaving Dax. Across from her, Dax mirrored her actions, surrendering his weapons to his own soldier.

Irene smirked, her tone dripping with mockery. “Afraid I’ll strike first? That you won’t get the chance to put me at your mercy before waking the beast?”

Dax held her gaze, his lazy smile sharpening into something darker. He tilted his head slightly,

“Come on, little siren,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvet threat that slid beneath her skin. “If I wanted you at my mercy…we both know you wouldn’t make a sound.”

Javier leaned in close and whispered, “I won’t be far.”

Irene gave a subtle nod. Javier and the soldier retreated to opposite corners of the deck, leaving the captains to face each other.

“When I asked the commander for a negotiator,” Irene began, “I expected him to send his best... not you.”

“The commander sent me because he knows I’m the only one who sees through your malice.” Dax said.

Dax nodded, but instead of simply taking the parchment, his fingers lingered deliberately against hers, dragging over her skin as he pulled it away. Irene stiffened, her eyes snapping to him. “I see you’ve become a woman of justice,” he mocked, his voice curling with disdain.

Irene’s jaw tightened. “And you? A traitor crawling to filthy nobles for scraps?” Her voice dripped with venom. “I suppose even the vilest scum can change.”

Dax unrolled the parchment, his eyebrow arching as he read the words. “We are willing to negotiate, but the prince—” Irene began, her voice faltering mid-sentence.

Without so much as a glance at her, Dax rolled the parchment... and tossed it overboard into the water.

Irene’s eyes widened, her breath hitching in her throat. Then, in a flash, she lunged forward, slamming her hands against his chest. “How dare you,” she hissed, her voice a furious whisper, barely restrained to keep from waking the beast.

Dax didn’t flinch. Instead, his hands shot out, capturing her wrists with force. He dragged her forward, pulling her against his chest, trapping her hands between them. His grip was iron.

He leaned in, his face close to hers.

"Say it," he whispered. Irene twisted against his grip, but his hands tightened, refusing to let her go. "What?" she spat. "Say you’ve missed me," he breathed, his lips so close she could feel the heat of him.

She answered with a cold smile, the corner of her lips curving into a smirk. "Actually, I was really hoping you died in the explosion. Did you like my little gift? It came straight from the heart—with all my affection, of course," she whispered, her voice dripping with sweet venom.

Dax's gaze locked onto Irene's flushed cheeks, his own eyes alight with a simmering intensity. "You're blushing," he observed, his voice a low, seductive murmur. Irene coughed and glanced away, attempting to mask her rising heat. "It's the sun,” she whispered, her cheeks growing warmer under his gaze. Dax leaned in, his lips brushing hers as he whispered, "Liar, it's raining," his tone filled with amusement, as if he was enjoying this maddening game. He looked up at the dark gray sky, a stark contrast to Irene's claim of sunny weather, his smile evident in his eyes. The clouds thickened, casting a shadow over them, proving Irene's lie. She felt his lips, smiling against hers, a sensation that sent a shiver down her spine.

Dax let out a hoarse, deep laugh that rumbled in his chest, a sound Irene felt all the way to her stomach, unwillingly. Then, without warning, he shoved her away. “So, since you live in your little delusions, let me clear something for you,” he said, his tone turning cold and serious. “Here’s the truth: the king wants your head, the commander wants your skin, and the Vipers want you burned for betraying them. You’re trapped in your own madness, Irene. And the Eldorians? They won’t stop until they get the prince back—who, I’m sure by now, you’ve realized is the key to that sapphire you’re so desperate to steal.”

"This sapphire... in no reality, in no world, could someone like you grasp its secrets, let alone unravel them. Especially not without the king’s resources. And to him? You are absolutely nothing."

Irene gritted her teeth. Dax’s words dripped with half-truths, the kind she refused to acknowledge. "Shut up," she hissed, her voice low, trembling with defiance.

But Dax’s gaze darkened, hardening like steel. "No matter what sweet lies Jessalyn whispered in your ear, it’s a lost cause, little siren."

He jabbed a finger at her chest, each word cutting through her defenses like a blade. "Give. Up."

The word hit her like a slap. Irene blinked, a dull pain throbbing in her skull. It felt as though his words had woken something dark inside her, the voices she tried so hard to bury. Her eyes stung, anger boiling in her chest, and the urge to shove him over the edge of the ship, to watch him vanish into the depths where the Scarlet Serpent could devour him, grew within her. She took a step back, her breath quick and uneven. “You—” But Dax cut her off. “Irene,” he whispered, his tone shifting from cold steel to something feverish. “I’m offering you a way out… from a world that wants to see you dead.”

He paused, then seized her arm, pulling her in close, his dimples flashing, as he leaned in. "Listen love, how about you let me snag that sapphire, and I'll give you your own fleet. Hell, even an island where you can loathe me in peace. Deal?"

"Imagine that, Irene," Dax murmured. "An island just for you… a kingdom for a queen without a throne."

She let out a dry laugh. “Spare me your lies! The only island where I could loathe you in peace is the one where you’ll be buried,” Irene spat through gritted teeth.

Dax laughed, a low, raspy sound that carried a flicker of something nervous beneath it. Irene frowned, her senses on edge. She knew Dax’s laughter too well. All of them. The condescending laugh that made her blood boil. The sweet, disarming one that left a heat in her stomach she hated to admit. But this laugh… this one held something else. Jealousy. Rivalry. She’d heard it countless times before, especially when they were young, when every challenge between them was a battle to see who would reach their wildest dreams first.

She stepped back, the realization striking her like lightning. Her head tilted, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re afraid…”

Dax’s smile faltered, his gaze sharpening into something colder, harder. But she wasn’t done.

“You’re afraid I’ll win. That I’ll prove, once again, that I can beat you. That, no matter how small, there is a chance I’ll find the sapphire.”

“Not in the slightest,” Dax snapped. But Irene seized the moment, stepping forward to close the space between them, her eyes blazing with defiance. “Oh, yes…” Her voice dropped, sharp and venomous. “Now you listen to me, Dax. I’m going to find that damn sapphire—and I’ll use every last drop of power it holds,” she said. “Not you, not your king, not anyone will stop me. Not even the damn goddess who forged it, even if she crawled out of the grave to take it back.”

Dax stayed silent, his jaw tight, but the tension in his eyes betrayed him. Irene pressed on, her words spilling out unchecked. “And for your information,” she said, her voice sharp, “I have the best crew. And I’ve learned plenty about the curse surrounding this sapphire.” She nodded, trying to impress him.

Dax’s eyebrow arched, a cryptic smile curling at the corners of his lips. “Oh, really? If you had any idea what that sapphire truly represents… you’d know that sometimes, victory is just another trap.”

Irene let out a dry, cutting laugh, her words spilling before she could think. “I’ll take my chances.”

Dax shook his head, his composure shifting, as if something about her had unsettled him. She saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes and seized on it, her tongue moving faster than her thoughts.

“Oh, and just so you know…” Irene’s voice dripped with mock confidence, her smirk cutting like a blade. “We’ve deciphered the map, and we already have a course. We know exactly where to go next.” She lied through her teeth, every word crafted to unsettle him.

She saw Dax’s expression falter, freezing for the briefest moment as something flickered in his eyes. Irene held her breath. Slowly, his brow furrowed, and he took a small step back, as if the weight of realization had physically hit him. He parted his lips, his voice low, “So… you have the ashes.”

Irene froze, her breath catching in her throat. She tried to speak, to deny it, but no sound came. Her lips parted, and she staggered back, the weight of her mistake crashing over her. She had just confirmed to Dax that she had the ashes. If they hadn’t already had enough reason to hunt her, now they did.

Jessalyn’s warning echoed in her mind: Never confirm anything. Let them chase shadows. But in a single moment, Irene had undone it all.

Dax’s gaze shifted away, his expression unreadable, though his lips moved in a quiet murmur. “She was right... she felt they were close.” Irene’s frustration ignited. “Oh yeah? And who told you? Your witch?”

Dax froze, her words striking him. His gaze locked onto hers, surprise flickering in his eyes. For the first time, he faltered. A whisper of Jessalyn’s warning resurfaced in Irene’s mind: Be wary of the king and his methods—he might send a witch with visions. Her chest tightened as she realized Jessalyn had been right, after all.

Dax opened his mouth, but no words came. The silence between them stretched.

"Better if we leave it here for today," Dax said, his voice cold.

Irene nodded. “Yes.”

Step by step, they backed away. Neither dared to look away. Irene stopped when her back met Javier, who silently handed her weapons over, his eyes never leaving Dax. Across the distance, Dax did the same, his soldier stepping forward.

Irene and Javier exchanged a glance. “So…” he asked with a sardonic smile, “should I fetch the rum to toast our glorious victory?”

“They know about the ashes,” Irene said.

Javier’s eyes widened, but before he could speak, Irene exhaled sharply. “Save the rum… for when we drink to our descent into hell.”

Irene cast one last glance at Dax before turning toward the hold. Behind her, he was already striding toward the Cordelia . Her heart pounded with adrenaline.

She turned her head one last time, catching sight of Dax leaning toward Commander Roderick, whispering in his ear. The commander’s gaze locked on Irene, brimming with contempt and suspicion. Her throat tightened as adrenaline surged. “Hurry up!” she said to Javier, quickening her pace. Irene shoved the cabin doors open. Zahra, seated behind a table cluttered with maps and scrolls, flinched. Her furrowed brow softened only when she saw Javier enter behind her. Wasting no time, Irene strode into the cabin, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “They have a witch,” she said.

Hezra and Zahra spoke at once, their voices overlapping. “What kind?”

Irene’s tone was clipped, her frustration clear. “The kind that has visions…the kind that can sniff out who owns what, and destroy us for it.”

Hezra’s jaw tightened, her voice dropping to a serious note. “Divination witch… maybe blood magic.”

Irene’s impatience flared. Her gaze turned to Zahra. “The ashes?”

This is already quite strong, but it can be tightened for a sharper and more striking delivery while maintaining the intensity and sardonic edge you're aiming for. Here's a refined version:

Zahra stood, holding up the necklace of ashes she was using to decipher the maps. Irene’s eyes locked onto it. “Keep them in your sight at all times,” she ordered. “We’ll take turns guarding you—and the ashes—while you work.”

Zahra nodded, but Irene’s sharp tone didn’t waver. “So? Where are we?”

Excitement flickered in Zahra’s eyes. “The history of the sapphire runs deep… Wars, legends, empires—all tied to the goddess Nehelannia. These words I decipher… they almost sing in my heart. This isn’t just a treasure hunt. Hundreds have died for this sapphire. It all began?—”

Irene raised a hand, cutting her off. “Save the tale of the sweet, heartbroken goddess who turned her misery into a cursed sapphire for later—preferably when we’re far out at sea and out of danger. What I need now, little saint, is a course. Clear. Precise. A destination in this world. Understood?”

Zahra met Irene’s intense gaze, defiance flashing briefly before she sighed. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to hear the full story. If you want the sapphire to accept you, you’ll need to understand it first.”

Irene’s voice dropped, cold and commanding. “Find me a course. Now.”

She turned to Javier. “Stay with her. Make sure we have a destination before we sink in these godsforsaken waters."

As Irene walked toward the door, she paused, her head tilting back slightly over her shoulder. Her voice was quieter but no less sharp. “Oh, and in case it wasn’t clear yet—our lives depend on it.”

The second day of negotiations was worse than the first. Irene uncovered two things she wished she hadn’t.

First, Dax knew far more than he let on. Behind his mask of indifference, she could feel the weight of secrets coiled within him. If she wanted to crack him, she had to find a weak point, a still-open wound, and tear it apart until he bled the truth.

So she asked Blade.

His answer chilled her blood: Dax had killed Captain Lorax. The bastard had murdered his own father.

Irene stood frozen for a moment, the revelation spinning in her mind. She wasn’t mourning Lorax; the old pirate had carved his own grave long ago, every scar on his body a testament to his sins. But Dax’s betrayal stirred memories and raised questions she wasn’t ready to face.

The pieces fell into place: Dax’s sudden alliance with the king. Lorax’s death, just before the old pirate was set to name one of them captain. Dax’s betrayal, like a knife in the back. None of it was coincidence.

There was a darker truth buried beneath the surface, something twisted and insidious. It wasn’t just Dax’s usual cruelty—it was something far worse. And if she could uncover it, that secret might be the weapon she needed to destroy him before he destroyed her.

And the second thing Irene learned? Dax’s moods shifted like the tides. Maybe she wasn’t much better. By the second day, the rain had gone, chased away by the sun.

Irene and Dax stood face to face. Their gazes roamed over one another, both waiting to see who would strike first.

Suddenly, Dax laughed—a raspy, unexpected sound that broke the tension like a blade through glass. Irene’s eyes widened, startled. Then, with an edge of defiance, she forced herself to laugh too. At first, it was hollow, a laugh meant to mock him. Then it twisted into something real. Nervous and unhinged, they laughed together, though neither of them could say why.

Dax’s laughter faded first. Irene fell quiet too, her pulse loud in her ears. The sun beat down on them, its heat painting their cheeks red. The ocean shimmered around them, serene, and the wind whispered through the sails. It could’ve been a beautiful day, if they weren’t secretly plotting each other’s destruction.

Dax broke the silence. “I’m supposed to ask you questions. Something about your crimes,” he drawled.

Irene smirked. “Then ask.”

He nodded, but his hesitation betrayed him. His gaze lingered on hers. He opened his mouth, but the words faltered, stuck in the air between them. His eyes darted briefly to the soldier standing behind him, then back to the Cordelia, where the commander’s watchful gaze bore into them from a distance.

Dax exhaled softly, his lips curving into a nervous, almost sardonic smile. Then, without warning, he asked, “How do you sleep at night?”

The question hit her like a slap, unexpected, simple and disarming. Irene blinked, the weight of negotiations evaporating like sea mist. For a moment, it felt as though nothing else existed but them.

“Bad,” Irene admitted, the honesty slipping from her lips before she could stop it. Dax tilted his head, a faint frown flickering across his face, but there was a trace of amusement in his eyes, like he knew something she didn’t. A slow, lazy smile tugged at his lips. “Where’s your little plush?” he murmured, his voice low, intimate. “That ridiculous crab.”

Irene blinked, caught off guard. “The one you hated?” she asked.

He hummed in response, the sound deep and soft. His gaze stayed fixed on hers.

Nostalgia clawed at her. The crab-shaped plush she used to cling to every night in the Vipers’ lair flashed through her mind. He must be bringing it up to mock her.

"He probably tossed it the second he betrayed me," she thought bitterly.

But just for a fleeting moment, despite herself, she allowed the illusion to wash over her. She let herself imagine that Dax hadn’t betrayed her, that she hadn’t once wished him dead. Maybe it was the sun warming her skin, or the ghosts of their shared past, but for the first time in what felt like forever.

“I lost it,” she said with a soft chuckle, her laugh carrying an almost childlike lightness she didn’t recognize in herself.

Dax stepped closer, his expression deceptively calm. "Oh, yeah? Lost it?"

Irene nodded as a warm breeze sent a stray lock of hair dancing across her face. Dax raised his hand and, with a delicacy she had forgotten he possessed, brushed the curl away, his fingers grazing her skin. He leaned in, “When this is all over…” His eyes darted around, making sure no one was watching. “…and you finally give up, I’ll get you a hundred crab-plushies. Maybe then you’ll sleep better.”

In an instant, reality came crashing back, hitting her like a blow. Give up . The word lodged in her chest, sharp and painful. She blinked through the tears and whispered, “Then I’ll never sleep well again.”

Dax nodded slowly, his eyes locking onto hers, silent, almost resigned. In those few words, they faced a bitter truth: the scars they’d carved into each other ran too deep. It was too late to forget. They were two flames, burning bright enough to consume the world—but far too close.

And when flames draw near, one always kills the other.