Trust her.
I closed my eyes, jaw clenched so tightly it ached and let the memory of her voice root me to the deck.
For once, I would wait. Even if it tore me apart.
By dusk, patience had rotted into fury.
The sun was sinking fast, its last light spilling across the waves like blood. Nerina had been gone almost a full day.
The curse coiled in my veins like a storm held at bay, gnawing at me with every hour I stayed still. It was more than restlessness—it was compulsion, the old tether pulling tighter with everypassing breath. The sea whispered of danger, of being swallowed by shadow, and I could no longer ignore it.
The poachers’ flotilla stretched across the water like carrion birds on a carcass. Three dozen ships at least, their nets sagging heavy with the day’s catch. Some vessels carried barely twenty men; others, I guessed, close to seventy.
All told—hundreds. We were severely outnumbered.
The Black Marrowhad fifty souls aboard, though not all of them fighters. Veyrion’s fleet loomed beyond the fog—cutters, longships, even a dragon ship bristling with spears—maybe two hundred blades if every man held the line.We could send for the rest of the Covenant ships. A hundred more sails might tip the scales. But there was no time.
I exhaled, the sound ragged. “We can’t wait for her any longer. Tonight, we move.”
His eyes slid to me. “You mean to throw two hundred men against a thousand and call it strategy?”
“Worked before.”
He snorted. “Worked for what? A tavern raid? A fat merchant who never held a sword?” His voice hardened. “This isn’t your gutter-born piracy, Alaric. This is war.”
“And war bleeds the same as piracy,” I shot back, flashing teeth. “You take their captain, burn their ships, and the rest scatter like rats.”
His jaw ticked, but his voice stayed infuriatingly calm. “Rats scatter, yes. But they always return. Unless you burn the nest.”
He gestured toward his ships bobbing in the distance—sleek cutters, hulking dragon ships, crews ranging from twenty to nearly a hundred. “My fleet is positioned to strike from three sides. We isolate one cluster of their vessels, overwhelm them, and dismantle their operation piece by piece. Efficient. Lasting.”
“Efficient,” I scoffed. “And slow.”
He didn’t even acknowledge the jab.
I turned on him, jaw tight. “Well, then what’s your clever little warlord plan?”
He gestured toward the flotilla, his voice low, precise. “We split their line. My cutters strike their flanks. The dragon ship drives through their center. While their attention is divided, you hit their flagship. Meanwhile, we cut the winches, loosen their cages, and let their own catch tear them apart. By the time they know we’re there, half their fleet will already be sinking.”
I barked a humorless laugh. “Efficient. Merciless. Very you.”
“And your way?” he countered. “Suicidal. Reckless. Veryyou.”
The air between us tightened, heavy with salt and fury. My curse clawed at me, demanding I draw steel—demanding I move, that I spill blood.
At last, I ground out, “Moonrise. We strike.”
The Black Marrow
Moonrise.
The Black Marrow cut through the dark like a blade, her sails black against the silver wash of the moon. Ahead, shadows moved—poacher ships, their lanterns swaying in the swell, nets sagging heavy with the day’s spoils.
I stood at the prow, the curse humming hot in my veins, thrumming with every throb of the tide. My crew behind my back. They waited in silence, weapons ready, breath laced with fear and hunger.
To starboard, Veyrion’s cutters skimmed the waves, sleek and fast, their sails striped in dark and pale. Beyond them, the dragon ship loomed—iron prows carved like beasts, bristling with spears and shields. His fleet moved with unnerving discipline, every oar and sail in time.
The poachers didn’t notice. Lanterns swung lazily across their decks, men shouting, laughing, drunk on the day’s haul. Another net slapped the water, spilling blood and scales into the waves.
