By the time the last body was hauled from the poacher’s deck, the order was given to burn it. No hesitation. No sentiment. Torches licked at the timbers, black smoke coiling skyward as flames devoured the ship that had caged us.
A pyre for the dead.
A warning for the living.
The fire still burned on the horizon when I found myself seated between them.
Alaric stood to my right, arms folded tight across his chest, storm-gray eyes narrowed like drawn steel. Possessive as ever, his eyes never left me.
Veyrion leaned against the rail on my left, angled subtly toward me. His expression was steadier, but no less pressing.
“Tell me,” Alaric growled, every syllable wound tight with fury, “what in the gods’ names possessed you to steal his ship?” He scoffed, eyes hard. “You’re not invincible. You’re not as clever as you think you are. And if I hadn’t arrived when I did, you’d already be dead—or worse.”
“Enough,” Veyrion cut in, calm edged with steel. His icy eyes lingered briefly on my burns before lifting to my face. “She does not owe you an explanation nor does she deserve your fury.”
My hands curled against my knees, nails biting skin. “I overheard you,” I said, turning to Veyrion.
His head tilted slightly. “Overheard what, exactly?”
“In Skeldrhall,” I whispered. “You and your council. You spoke of the Veil failing—and how poachers were already moving in. You said it wouldn’t hold much longer. That innocents would suffer.”
The words hung between us, heavy with smoke and salt.
“I thought…” My voice wavered, then steadied. “I thought I could help. That I could save them—the innocents. My sister.”
Alaric dragged his hand down his face and blew out a tired breath. “So, you stole a ship and vanished into waters crawling with men who trade lives for coin?” He threw his hands up. “Saints below, Nerina—could you be more reckless?”
I flinched—but before I could answer, Veyrion’s voice cut through, low and certain.
“She wasn’t wrong.”
I turned, startled, as his eyes locked on mine.
“A little reckless, yes,” Veyrion continued, voice carrying like a war-drum. “But brave. The first tide always carries blood—and she faced it head-on. She was willing to bleed so others would not. That is not folly.” His mouth curved, fierce rather than soft. “That is courage most lack.”
Alaric’s laugh snapped through the air, bitter. “Courage?” His eyes cut to Veyrion, then back to me, blazing with something I couldn’t name. I had never seen him so angry. “You call it courage to sail straight into the jaws of slaughter? To gamble her life on half-heard council talk?” He stepped closer, the storm rising off him. “Dress it up however you like, Veyrion. I call it what it is—foolish.”
The words struck like steel. His anger sounded too much like fear.
Veyrion didn’t flinch. He stood at the rail, eyes steady, unmoved by the storm breaking beside him. “Maybe,” he said evenly, voice like the undertow beneath a crashing wave. “But sometimes it's necessary.”
Their stares locked. The air between them drew taut as a bowstring. Alaric bristled, every line of him coiled like he might strike. Veyrion only watched—calm, immovable, the faint curl of his mouth daring him to try.
Neither yielded. Neither looked away. The space between them felt dangerous.
“Enough,” I said—sharper than I intended.
Both turned to me.
“This is ridiculous,” I said, the words scraping free. “We don’t have time to bleed over pride or labels. Reckless. Brave. Call me whatever you want—but bigger things are moving, and we’re already behind.”
The air shifted. Even the nearby men stilled, listening.
“The Veil is failing,” I said, the truth bitter on my tongue. “By now, it’s probably gone. And with it—safety for anyone in these waters. The poachers are moving in. They’ll strip everything they can. Innocent creatures will be the first to suffer.” I steadied myself, the fire in my chest sparking hard against my ribs. “And somewhere in the deep, the fragments of the Crescent still wait. If the ocean hasn’t swallowed them, it’s only a matter of time before someone else does.”
The words settled heavily between us. No one argued.
“This is what matters,” I said, steadier now. “Not possession. Not pride. Not who shouts the loudest. If we waste another moment on this nonsense, it will not end well.”
