“You’re a bit out of your element,Prince.”
“False,” I corrected, the corner of my lips curling upward. “If I were out of my element, you would’ve been aware of my presence a while ago.”
“Perhaps you have me there. Or I knew all along and decided to be kind enough to grant you a distraction.” He dug his hands into his pockets, a lengthy hum leaving him as he spun on his heel to face me. Dipping his head to the side, his vibrant blue gaze met mine. “What is it that you want, Prince Kael?”
The words came from me too quickly. “To leave.”
“Leave?” He lifted a light brow, his attentiveness intensifying. “What do you mean by that exactly?”
Running a hand through my blonde locks, I shook my head. “I want to get the fuck out of Serevalen. I do not want the throne, for I do not wish to walk alongside my father any longer.”
“Reason being?”
“You met him,” I snapped. “I don’t feel it is necessary to delve into the nuances of his personality and questionable aspects of his character.”
“Okay, then, I feel it is only fair that you provide me with an honest answer yourself.” Before I could blink, he was in front of me, the lifelessness of the dagger no longer in my hand, but against my throat. “What doyouwantfrom me, Kael Marellan?”
The steel bobbed as I swallowed, offering him the four words that would either mark my finality or the start of my freedom. “To join your crew.”
CHAPTER 24
Bloodbath
CASPIAN
Rain fell steadily, drumming against the window of my cabin. Its rhythmic pattern served as a lullaby for those who weren’t on duty, but for those who manned the deck, it persisted as an annoying hindrance.
Beside me, the dim candlelight set the mood, offering steadier illumination than the lightning strikes that occasionally lit the black expansiveness threatening to consume us. The orangish glow cast shadows across my desk, making the script within the numerous journals I’d scattered across it more visible.
Each scroll was different, unique in its own right, sharing tales that’d been banned from our society as soon as King Marellan settled on the throne. He’d buried them beneath the palace, locking them in an archive he believed remained untouchable, a naïve assumption considering the man he’d branded and forced to kneel beside him.
With the royal crest burned into the flesh above my heart, deep-seated spite billowed beneath it. But even amidst the wrath I carried, its emblem provided me free rein to explore the varying wings of the castle. Granting me that level of access was its own irreversible mistake, for every time I ventured into his corrupted walls, I plundered whatever I could getmy hands on. It also graced me with knowledge most didn’t have about the kingdom or the man who bore its crown, which is ultimately why I’d rescued twelve volumes of historical texts from their confinement.
Tapping my ringed fingers against my whiskey glass, I ran a hand through my damp hair, having just settled in my quarters for the night after assisting the men who so willingly followed my orders.
With a sharpened exhale, I glanced between the scarlet quill pen and the journal I’d been jotting notes in for the past five years. My handwriting consumed the worn pages, the cursive adorning it something I’d taught myself. Even with all the words I’d filled it with, and the conversations I’d had with the Damned, there was still far too much to uncover, riddles written intending to keep their underlying meaning cloaked in secrecy.
It felt as if something else was guiding me toward the dire need toknow,an adamant refusal to give up settling in the marrow of my bones and the edges of my soul.
Raising the glass to my lips, I took a lengthened swig before setting it down. The bourbon’s burn flooded my chest, settling my nerves and grounding me for the night of work that awaited. With a sigh, I briefly pulled away from my elected vice to gather the bottom of my rain-soaked shirt. Tugging it over my head, I tossed it toward the corner of the room before repositioning myself in the chair that would undoubtedly become my place of rest once exhaustion consumed my stubbornness.
I wrung my palms together before reaching for the writing utensil. With a simple dip into the black ink, I coated its tip and circled the sloppy words I’d transcribed earlier in the week. Drawing a circle around them, my brows furrowed, my attention lingering as I racked the recesses of my mind for something,anything,that made sense.
A thousand legs have spun this thread. A thousand eyes have watched them bled—from shores unseen andsilent tiers that never surface, yet draw near. What slumbers deep will wake anew and feast on those who never knew their shadows walked on other sides. The heart of stone, the crown of glass, a windowed throne, the ages pass. A name once known, now left to pass, once spoken whole, now split in half.
And just below, I underlined a title that seemed fartoofamiliar yet strangely foreign:The Unraveled One.
“Prophetic, but to what degree?” I mumbled to myself as I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger before reaching over to grab my glasses.
Adjusting their gold frame on my face, I let my attention dance among the three codices that lay open, as if my enhanced ability to see clearly would restructure my muddled thoughts.
Mirrors.
Two princes stand—one flame, one shade, yet mirrors lie where choices fade. Tread now with care, for blades are true; not all crowned gold is loyal or new. Strike the king, let iron fate fall free, or doom both throne and rolling sea.
“Mirrors… Once spoken whole, now split in half…” Each articulation felt as if I were delving into a curse, uttering concepts that painted a realm far beyond our own. “Strike the king, let iron fate fall free, or doomboththrone and rolling sea.”
Nothing, not a damn thing, made sense. It was too convoluted, too interwoven, that I had no clue how to digest the layers upon layers of information buried beneath each line. Ultimately, it felt like a warning, an utterance from the Damned that’d been jotted down before they’dfallen and stored where the hands of humanity would never be able to reach it.
