“I swear,” Serenya groaned, her braid limp, her skin a shade paler than ash, “if I survive this voyage, I’m never stepping foot on water again.”
“I have no doubts about that,” Maris said, reaching to steady her.
“Gods,” Serenya whispered, clinging to the railing like it was her last tether to life, “strike me down where I stand.”
“You’re already halfway there.”
Maris smiled, but the levity didn’t fully settle in her chest. Not with what waited tomorrow. The coast of Calanthe loomed just over the horizon, one more night and they’d be in Nerium.
She stared at the horizon. Six days at sea, and not a flicker of nausea. The same transformation that had flooded her with power had also granted her something far less expected, stillness. The sea no longer fought her. It bowed.
Just like everything else had since she’d been crowned.
Still, that didn’t stop the gnawing weight in her stomach. A different kind of unease.
Since that stolen moment, she and Alarik had spoken only through the clash of blades and the echo of breathless commands. No words, no glances, just the silence of something left unfinished. She had ended it before it could begin, but some part of her still reached for him in the quiet, aching for what might’ve bloomed if she’d only let it.
Until now that is.
A crewman came to her door at dawn. A message from Alarik.
Report to the captain’s study. Immediately.
She didn’t knock as she entered.
Alarik stood at the wide desk, a map unfurled beneath his hands, his jaw sharp with tension. He didn’t look up.
Serenya joined a moment later, draped in a blanket and muttering curses to sea god in three languages straightening her spine when she caught the look on his face.
Alarik finally lifted his eyes.
“There’s been news, sent by a raven” he said. “Two things you need to hear before we dock.”
Maris leaned against the nearest beam, arms crossed. “Go on.”
“The ships meant to carry Kael’s forces… arrived early. Three weeks early.”
Maris’s breath hitched. “How?”
“Unusually favorable weather across the strait. My spies say they made landfall in Nythra two days ago.”
“That’s not enough time for a full invasion,” Serenya said. “They’ll still need to organize.”
“True,” Alarik agreed. “But that’s not what worries me.”
He slid a second scroll across the desk. An intercepted report. A few lines in coded script, then translated beneath.
A cloaked male seen in the saltlands. Alone. Traveling south along the forest route toward Nerium. Leaving a trail of bodies and terrors in his wake. Power fluctuates in darkness.
Maris’s heart slowed.
She didn’t need a name. She knew.
Kael.
She closed her eyes, fingers tightening against her ribs.
“He’s coming for me,” she said quietly.
