Page 72 of Claimed By the Depths

“I am well!” they argued, offense clinging to every syllable. “You do not need to discredit me and my capabilities⁠—”

“I am doing no such thing,” Alastair growled, the sound in itself a warning. “You have already brought both fleets back to Serevalen once. You will not do so again. Especially when we have an injured, invaluable man on board whom you are responsible for caring for.” Shaking his head, Alastair loosened the reins on his tonality. “Parran, your healing abilities are priceless, something that not even the greatest treasure could replace. And, with us out in open waters, the very seas Ellira rules, there is no risk for innocents standing in the crossfire.”

“We are already a day into sailing. That only leaves three, and also allows Caspian time to recover and possibly wake up,” Syoran stated, picking up the conversation as if he and Alastair had planned it. “I do not believe your captain is attempting to discredit you, so much as protect you from any potential negative outcomes of you overexerting yourself. He values you, Parran.”

Canine nibbling their bottom lip, Parran nodded. “Okay. I am sorry for questioning the intention; I just want to help wherever I am able.”

Jumping from the gunwale, my booted feet collided with the deck, but barely any sound followed. “And you are,” I hummed, closing the distance to the towering Fae. Settling a hand on their shoulder, I smiled gently. “Thank you for taking care of Caspian and ensuring that he mends. I cannot express enough gratitude for your selflessness, and I will do all I can on my end to ensure you see your worth.”

The corners of their mouth curled, but I didn’t miss their subtle tremor. “Thank you. Your appreciation means a lot to me, Rohen.”

I bobbed my head as I rubbed their arm before pulling away. Turning to the others, I exchanged a knowing glance with Leilani before finding Alastair again. With a once-over, I moved to Sapphira, granting her an approving dip of my chin before finally finding Syoran.

“Never stop showing them who you are,” Ellira hummed in my subconscious, her presence brushing against the power I felt lurking beneath my skin. “My Daughter. The Heir to the throne that I rule. The soon-to-be Goddess of the Sea.”

“Well?” I questioned with a grin. “We have waters to sail, which gives us time to hunt for these sacred texts. What do you say, captain?”

Syoran returned my smile with one of his own, the tension once present in his body evaporating. “Lead the way, Daughter of Ellira.”

CHAPTER 39

Weathered Grimoire

KAEL

Booted feet drumming against the deck, all eight of us moved toward Caspian’s quarters.

As we followed Syoran in the comfortable silence, I studied him. Watching as he spun the infamous key between his fingers—the very thing that would open a piece of Caspian he likely didn’t long for any of us to see—I remained mindful of the hesitance his dark irises wore during our discussion.

Sure, the stand-in captain of the Bloodmarked wore an expression of acceptance when discussing it with the group, but there were a few things I had learned during my time around him. The first was that he was faithful to those he held dear, and the second was that Caspian was at the top of that list.

And it wasn’t like I could blame him for valuing his best friend to that extreme. Not when, in the brief time I had known the captain, I found a unique sense of comfort in him.

Eyes trained on the breadth of Syoran’s shoulders, I couldn’t help but let my gaze wander. From his silken strands to his tapered waist, it was impossible to deny his beauty. His attractiveness was unique, a masculinity highlighted by feminine edges that would be criminal not to admire.

His words came suddenly, as if he were capable of sensing my stare. “My only ask is that his chambers are respected. Caspian is a very private man, and⁠—”

The shift in the air became palpable right before he finished, a harrowing sense of an unplanned arrival brushing over my subconscious. As if no one else was aware of it, I freed the dagger I’d started to wear from my waist and, with one quick flip, angled it at the throat of our unexpected guest.

Familiar honeydew irises greeted me. Skin blemishless, the roundness of her face ignited a slew of memories of our last encounter. The strawberry blonde curls that fell over her shoulders solidified her presence, or rather complicated it.

“What the fuck?” I hissed, my brows narrowing to cloud my stare. “Again?”

“Again?” Alastair and Leilani questioned simultaneously, their hands closing around the pommels of their swords.

Nostrils flaring, the captain of the Scarlet Tempest peered at each of us in search of an answer. “Anyone care to fucking explain what the hell is going on?”

“I will,” Lorelie hummed. “So long as the soon-to-be King of Wraelira puts his weapon down.”

Thoughts twisting with both knowing and confusion, I hesitated for a breath before pulling away from her. “Fine. Just know I will not be as patient as before, especially considering you’re in our territory now.”

Rohen’s lips curled in satisfaction, my utterance earning a dip of her chin before she pinned Lorelie with her emerald scrutiny. “While you showcased pieces of yourself to us before our venture into the archive, there remain inconsistencies with your story.” Craning her head to the side, Rohen only grinned deeper. “With us no longer on land, everything is free rein, including punishment for spewing bullshit.”

“I do not intend to. As I told the others,” Lorelie looked from me to Syoran and Sapphira, “your mother has entrusted me to protect you.”

The Daughter of the Goddess of the Sea parted her lips in reply, but it was Alastair who stole the limelight. “Speak.”

“My first interaction with the former prince, alongside your former best friend, entailed nothing more than a hint that I am not from here.” Matching his fire, Lorelie continued, “I am from a continent beyond the veil called Narvendor, a realm that has been polluted to the extremes Wraelira will see if the prophecy is not fulfilled. The Divari that once ruled our lands have been butchered in a war spun by the Others, or, as our people know them, the Dreadborne.