That’s a definite no on the hair braiding.
Lory tries—and fails—to smother a laugh, his hazel eyes sparkling with mirth in the lantern light.
“Rather than heading to Port Serre on Eretria’s southern coast and traveling overland,” Raven continues, “we’ll be taking a route along the eastern seaboard and traveling through the Sarathros before docking at Corinth. It will extend our time at sea by a few days, but from that point, the court is a three-day journey by carriage.”
My heart pounds with each detail, a drumbeat of anxiety and anticipation. The thought of competing for a prince’s hand—a future I never envisioned—tightens my chest with dread and defiance. At the same time, the realization that this plan has been in motion for so long without my knowledge stirs a mixture of betrayal and determination. A week’s notice isn’t enough time to arrange these details. Nyssa catches my eye, brows lifting in a way that tells me she’s thinking the same.
“The king is anticipating our arrival?” Myna asks.
“He is.” A shadow flickers across Raven’s face, gone as quickly as it appeared. “We sent a bird expressing our intention for Princess Aella to compete. The king responded with an extension of his hospitality but a refusal to delay the trials to await her arrival. With the time constraints, he also said there will be no one to greet us upon our arrival to the kingdom, but we will be welcomed at the palace.”
The cabin goes silent, the weight of the king’s pointed slight settling over our group like an unwelcome shadow, each of us acutely aware of the implications behind his words. Since the God War, the Sorrows has been regarded with lower esteem than the other kingdoms, a sentiment led by Eretria. But failure to greet foreign royalty upon their arrival is a clear display of just how little respect they hold.
Heron clears his throat, commanding our attention. “Do we have an exit strategy?”
The Aviary whispers about him as well, though not as often as they do about Myna. But they speak of his sharp wit and strategic mind, said to be as incisive as his features. Watching his eyes meticulously scan the map, I can see the foundation behind those rumors.
“There will be plenty of chances for us to act and make our escape. With the entire court occupied by the trials and the final celebrationball, only the servants will be paying attention. Our success will hinge on how swiftly we locate the weapon and how effectively we manage to secure it.” Raven surveys the room one last time, meeting each gaze with a quiet confidence. “Until then, stay focused. We can’t afford missteps.”
With a curt nod, he turns and strides out, his presence commanding even as he leaves. The others exchange brief glances before following, their footsteps echoing softly against the walls until silence envelops the space.
Until Nyssa and I are the only ones left at the table.
I bite my lip, suffocating under the weight of guilt while she sits deep in thought, her brow furrowed in a way that makes my heart sink. Because I know I haven’t been fully honest with her. I told her about the Eagle’s plan the day after we were summoned to his study, explaining my mission beyond Alpha Flight’s and how it would affect her.
But I left out one crucial detail: the Eagle’s threat to her life if I fail.
His cold, piercing gaze and the weight of his words still haunt me. I didn’t want her to carry that burden, didn’t want her to feel the crushing anxiety that’s kept me awake every night since. But now I can’t shake the fear that shielding her may have left her unprepared for what’s ahead.
At first, the idea of royal espionage had thrilled her. Her eyes lit up like she’d been handed a grand adventure like those told in the Aviary. But now, as we sit in this tense silence, I wonder if reality is hitting her harder than we expected. This isn’t just a game of wits or cunning. The mission is far more dangerous than I ever imagined for our first assignment.
I feel guilty for burdening her with this. Guilty for not telling her the whole truth—not that she could have refused the assignment. Now, as I watch her wrestle with her thoughts, I don’t know if she is overwhelmed by trepidation or is simply bracing for the dangers about to crash down on us.
After long, drawn-out minutes, she finally breaks the silence. Instead of the hesitant confession I anticipated, Nyssa’s laughter bounces off the walls of the cabin.
“I still can’t believe you have to compete for a prince,” she finally gets out between gasping breaths, laughter shaking her shoulders.
My confusion dies a swift and brutal death, and I hit her with my most murderous glare. “Nyssa.”
“Yeah?” she manages, her voice trembling as tears of laughter bloom in her eyes. She tries, and utterly fails, to wrangle her grin into something resembling control.
“Shut the fuck up.”
As night descends, the ship glides farther away from the familiar shores of the Sorrows. The sea calmed throughout the day, and now the gentle sway of the vessel should bring comfort, yet sleep remains out of reach. Restless, I turn over and grab my pack from the floor, rummaging through its contents until my fingers close around a small vial. Lifting it into the moonlight trickling through the porthole, I study the tiny black seeds within, their surfaces glistening in the dim glow.
The temptation is overwhelming—to take just one and let its soothing embrace pull me into a dreamless sleep.Just one.
I bite my lip, my eyes locked on the vial as memories surge—restless nights in an unfamiliar place after my father’s abandonment, a life stolen too soon by my own recklessness.
All of it because of me.
Each seed had been a shield against the nightmares of betrayal from those I should have been able to trust, and the loss of those who shouldn’t have trusted me. Letting go of that crutch is like stepping into the unknown, unarmed and exposed. But here, on this ship, I have to be stronger. While the somniseed grants me a deep, dreamless sleep, it comes at a cost. It leaves me vulnerable, trapped in a heavy lethargy, unable to wake until its effects fade. Vulnerability is a risk I can’t take, not when the safety of my kingdom and my closest friend are at stake. Muttering a soft curse under my breath, I shove the vial back into my pack, pressing it deep into the bottom.
Needing to remove myself from temptation, I rise from my bunk and make my way to the deck. The night air carries a faint cooling touch against my skin—a subtle reminder that we are leaving summer’s graspbehind. Seeking solitude and a better view of the horizon, I climb the rigging to the crow’s nest, letting the muted expanse of the night surround me. From this vantage point, the lights of the Sorrows twinkle faintly, gradually fading into the distance, much like the life I’m leaving behind.
I settle into the nest, wrapping my arms around my knees as the vast expanse of sea and sky surrounds me. The stars scatter across the velvet night like distant eyes, silent witnesses to the secrets I hold. Below, the sea stretches endlessly—a dark, uncharted abyss that mirrors my own uncertainties: vast, daunting, and teeming with unseen perils. Up here, perched above the deck, I feel both isolated and exposed, a poignant reminder that even in solitude, the weight of the unknown lingers.
The faint creak of strained ropes breaks the silence. I stiffen, clinging to the hope of solitude, only to spot a familiar silhouette. Raven hauls himself up into the crow’s nest, and I scowl as he settles in across from me.
