Page 80 of The Shard and the Serpent (Shard Daughters #1)

Legacy

Rayze

My boots glide off the lip of The Dredge, my veins burning with starlight as I fly into the night. Lightning licks down from the clouds, finding kinship inside me, before I flip slow and controlled back down to Saltmaw.

I glide down between dark sails, the blue glow of Volt between them snapping awake at my presence, eager to break against my natural magic.

I fold my arms in, crossing them over my chest, careful not to touch one of the sails.

Volt singes out toward my skin in stinging pricks, but Brass shields it from going any deeper than skin-level.

My magic swirls in a revolving cycle, feeding on itself and growing with need, as the tips of my boots kiss a dark deck. I land in a crouch, pressing my palm against cool, wet, steel planks, my gaze flicking to the shadows.

Saltmaw sits empty. Torchlights are snuffed, masts left unoccupied by crew. Ropes dangle down into Synlon. They must’ve joined the fight on the street, but I don’t believe for a second that Torren would leave his headquarters.

He’s here. Somewhere.

I lift with caution, the wind a sharp slice through my hair this high above the city.

Rain drums down in a steady rhythm, and I anchor to its familiarity.

Starlight tangles over my knuckles as I reach to my back and unclip my bow.

I secure an arrow in my other palm, my trench coat flicking around me as I shift left and right, scanning every alcove.

My focus narrows on the starboard, to its throne and wheel. It sits as empty as the rest of the deck, rain droplets sparkling across it beneath flashes of lightning. My heart pounds in my ears, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

Someone’s behind me.

I take another step forward, careful not to let them know I feel their presence. Then I pivot and lift my bow in a fluid movement, my elbow jerking back and my arrow aimed between dark brows.

Torren Trask stares at me, his tricorne wrenched between his hands.

He holds no weapon, an axe strapped at his back out of the way.

Black curls peppered with gray lift around his shoulders in the wind, his amber eyes hardened with resolution.

His throat works, the coins braided into his beard jingling in the breeze.

“You look so much like your mother,” he says, his rough voice striking me through the chest.

Warrick

My boots crash down as I land against the last ship between my girl and I, the impact vibrating up my legs.

The pulley cable whips free behind me with a metallic snap, vanishing into the storm.

Wind howls across the ship, tearing at my coat, rain slashing sideways into my face in freezing sheets.

Water slicks every plank, running in cold rivulets down my neck and soaking me to the bone.

My chains clatter at my side, still vibrating with the wild momentum of the ride. Lightning forks overhead, throwing the entire deck into stark, blinding chaos

Kraken cronies surge from the shadows, their weapons twisted, rigged nightmares.

“Fuck,” I breathe.

Rayze

“The mother you bought from The Serpent and forced to have girls you could later sell? That mother?” I bite out, my shoulders straining with rage as I glare at Torren.

The Kraken slowly lifts his hat, flattening it tight against his skull. His lips press together as he unhooks his axe. “You wanna fight, girl? That’s the Trask in you. I’ll oblige if it means you’ll listen.”

“Wrong,” I bite out. “There’s no Trask left in me, and there hasn’t been since you let Russell Ivor take me from Rathem.”

Gold teeth flash with his snarl. “ Let ? His men knocked me unconscious. Now I don’t expect you to forgive me for my part in what happened to your sisters and mother, but I won’t let you kill me thinkin’ I willingly let you go, Hallie.”

I shudder at the sound of that name, my stomach lurching with disgust.

“Don’t,” I hiss. “Don’t try and paint yourself any way in the right. I was never your daughter. I was a product.” Then I take a step toward him. “And my name isn’t Hallie. She’s long dead.”

“If you were just a product,” Torren argues, his axe shining, “then why the fuck am I here looking for you.”

My elbow wavers.

“Yes,” he spits. “I’m here for you . This is about your legacy and Ruel’s. Giving the two of you what you’re owed and making damn sure Russell’s son gets what he deserves.”

“Because he hurt Ruel?” I shake my head. “Warrick was defending himself, as any Heir would have.”

Torren throws his axe to the deck, but our eyes never stray from one another. There’s pain in his gaze, like he’s haunted—and fuck him, he should be.

“Don’t you worry,” he says and nods to my bow, “you’ll get your shot. All I’m asking is for a moment to talk.”

I don’t dare lower my bow. “Why would I listen to anything you have to say?”

Torren looks me over, and I hate the prideful tilt of his lips when he does. He stalks toward a chest beside the ship’s throne and stoops to undo the latch.

I keep my shot aimed at his spine as he does, his fingers glinting with jeweled rings as he throws open the lid and digs inside. Then he lifts something wooden and chucks it toward me.

I swallow, the thing thudding against the tips of my boots. I lower my bow and snatch the wooden arrow from the ground, running my thumb over the shaft.

“This is mine,” I mutter, my initials carved into the arrowhead— H.T.

Warrick was the one to add them, his smile bright as he handed it back to me all those years ago. Warmth blooms through my chest at the memory, but I shove it down, eyeing my father.

“What’s the purpose of showing me this?” I demand and toss it back toward him.

Torren picks up the arrow, pinching it between his fingers. “I thought you could do with a reminder of home.” He looks me over again, that pride easily traded for disgust. “You’ve got Serpent written all over you.”

I bristle. “Why shouldn’t I?” I cock my head with a glare.

“I was raised to be sold to The Serpent, I was raped by The Serpent, then I was trained to kill The Serpent. Everything Kraken about me was stripped away, and you were a willing participant, whether you intended for me to be taken or not. You helped create the very situation Russell Ivor needed to take advantage, and he did.”

His fists clench.

I gesture to myself. “If I don’t look Rathem, then you’ve only yourself to blame, and that arrow?

It’s more Serpent than it ever was Kraken.

Warrick put my initials on the arrow, carved its head and helped me gain my confidence.

He made space in his life for me—something you never did for any of your daughters. ”

“Russell Ivor was never meant to leave that dining room alive,” he rumbles, stepping toward me. “Your brother was never meant to be drugged. Every Kraken crony was prepared to fight to the death. That night, we would’ve secured Synlon, and your mother would’ve taken the city for you girls.”

I step back. “You’re lying. You’ll say anything because you know this is it. This is your last fucking night alive.”

Torren prowls closer. “You don’t have to believe me,” he says low, thunder rolling around us and vibrating Saltmaw.

“Gods, my girl, I wouldn’t believe me after what you’ve been through and thought you saw, but that feast should’ve been a Godsdamn victory for our family—and it would’ve been if Warrick Ivor hadn’t fucked the plan. ”