Page 210 of Rage

Swallowed By The Tide

By: A. B. Daniels-Annachi

Chapter One

Hari

Cold bit into the soles of my feet from the sea-soaked wood. Squinting, I tried to make out anything in the hold, but darkness encroached on all sides. My wrists ached, rubbed raw by the coarse rope wound too tight around them.

The low murmur of voices over thudding boots seeped through the ceiling above me. I opened my mouth to cry out for help, but my words died on my tongue, dry under woven cloth. I whipped my head back, trying to free my jaw from the gag, but it was too late; the footsteps receded. The first people I had heard in hours were gone as fast as they came.

How could I have been so stupid to end up in this situation? It had happened so fast: the screams of pirates, their banging drums. Then a clash of swords on my Prince’s ship, so much bloodshed, and I was captured far too easily. Gods only knew where he had been taken.

A door behind me creaked on rusted hinges, and a shiver climbed my spine. Light steps grew louder, and a memory of being walloped over the head with a harpoon flashed throughmy mind. I willed my body to stop its trembling, and leaned my head back against the post that I was tied to.

Shadows danced across the walls as a lantern rounded the corner first, followed by a muscular outstretched hand. “Are you causing trouble down here?”

The stubble of his beard scraped my wind-chapped cheek, and he sauntered around to stand in front of me, planting a fist against the mast above my head. My breath caught in my throat at the dotted tattoos around his fingers that wrapped up his bare forearm, disappearing under his sleeve. Black ocean waves cascaded over his collarbones, and a Kraken tentacle curled around his neck.

“You have a choice,” he spoke again, and I finally found his eyes, the sky-blue of them piercing into me. I quickly looked away, fixing my gaze on the tattooed skin of his neck.

I cleared my throat. “Is this where you tell me to choose whether to walk the plank or die by swordpoint?”

He chuckled. “No, the plank is mostly a misconception.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. His open shirt pulled back to reveal more of his tattooed chest; a great black flag covered his heart, and the fin of a blue dragon flexed with his muscles. “Every captive has the choice to join the crew… or die.”

“And if I refuse either?” I asked. “Take me back to Prince Dorian.”

“That is clearly a choice for the latter,” he said with a smirk.

Rage licked up my stomach at the smugness in his expression. I twisted my wrists, trying to free myself. The binds were knotted far too well to have any hope of escape.

“Why should I entertain this? Who are you?” I breathed.

“Orion, Bosun to Captain Veshak. And, well, you saw what my captain did to yours. I imagine no one wants to be gutted like a fish. I assure you that drowning is less pleasant. My recommendation is to accept the offer of life–”

“No!” I yelled over him.

A shadow flicked over his face. Orion reached out, his fingers grazing over the planes of my cheek. “Forget about your prince, he is due to die, anyway. Train as a privateer, with me.”

I shivered against every effort to hold myself still. The skin of his fingertips was raw over my skin. I breathed deeply and dropped the wall around my emotions, letting them swirl wildly through my mind before I latched onto the strongest available: empathy. As his hand moved down my face, I pushed that feeling forward, willing it to seep into his skin, letting my magic spark across our contact.

“Forget about Dorian and join me. I will provide anything you need,” Orion murmured.

His words laced through my mind, pulling something deep within me. I felt the urge to look into his eyes and gritted my teeth against the effort of resisting his offer. The walls around me slammed down.

“Go fuck yourself,” I spat.

His head snapped back, eyes narrowing. A beat passed between us before he spoke again.

“Why are you loyal to your prince?”

A flush crept up my neck at the question. I didn’t know how to answer.

“Do you serve him? His crown?” Orion asked.

I jerked my chin down against my better judgment, then shook my head. “He is my best friend.”

“Does a best friend require constant assistance? It seems there is more. You resist as if he holds the very air you breathe.” Orion’s eyes flashed and I gritted my teeth.

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