Page 2 of Siren's Treasure

“Shh,” Raggon said, grinning. “Tobias might hear you.” He searched for his brother, finding him sprawled across a barrel near the helm, surrounded by scattered gears and springs as he tried to “improve” the ship’s compass, since that last one had been a disaster.

The parrot offered unhelpful commentary from his shoulder. “Another invention? Abandon ship! Abandon ship!”

“Sterling is family,” Raggon admitted. He’d never seen the boy bond with anything like that bird—except maybe that weather predictor that somehow caught fire in the rain.

The Duke’s expression darkened. “There’s more afoot than rough waters. My spies have reported increased Circian vessel activity around the Serpent Coil Islands. They’re searching for something in these waters.”

That was Undine Isle territory. His stomach clenched uneasily. “Like what?”

“There is rumor of treasure…”

“Treasure?” Raggon cried out. The Land Witch didn’t need more treasure! She’d stolen his kingdom. She had all the wealth of the Sylphorian courts at her fingertips, their ancient artifacts, their sacred places, and more—curse her!

“And it’s worse…” The Duke’s voice dropped to barely a whisper, his eyes scanning the waves as if they might hold spies. “There is also rumor that she knows about… you.”

Raggon straightened, his heart lodging in his throat. “How?”

“I can’t say…” The Duke gripped the ship’s rail. If Circe hadn’t thought the Sylphorian princes were dead years ago, she’d have hunted them across Poseidon’s seas until they were. She fearedtheir royal powers—though they were nothing compared to her dark magic.

“Sail ho!” The cry cut through the morning air from the crow’s nest. “Three points off the port bow!”

Raggon raised his spyglass, the brass warm from the sun. Through the lens, he could make out the billowing black sails, proudly bearing the blood-red boar of the Land Witch’s armies. On the deck of the lead ship stood a broad-shouldered figure Raggon hadn’t faced since their last encounter off the Widow’s Reef, where they’d left the brute’s ship a smoking skeleton. It appeared someone had given their fiercest enemy a brand-spanking-new ship.

“Maddox,” he growled.

A strangled gasp escaped the Duke’s lips. “We’ll run close to the wind and make for deeper waters.” He moved for the helm.

Raggon was already shaking his head. “No, we’ll meet him head on. If the Land Witch suspects I’m alive, we’ll show her my teeth.”

“But sire, your brother—”

“He’s not safe while Maddox lives.” The dread sea pirate used to serve their father before turning against them all. As soon as Raggon discovered him on the waters, he’d gone against the traitor with everything he had, though Maddox hadn’t suspected his greatest enemy was driven with such deep abiding hatred simmering through his chest. “Tobias knows how to keep his head down and stay out of trouble…” when he wasn’t dismantling perfectly good sailing gear. Raggon turned toward the helm. “Tobias! Find something sturdy and hang on… you hear me?”

Tobias’s eyes lit up, eager for action. Storm and seas! The boy still didn’t understand his own mortality, a family trait, it seemed—he was ten years older and still hadn’t outgrownthat recklessness. Raggon felt a burst of sympathy for Morris—raising two stubborn princes couldn’t have been easy.

Raggon glanced over at the stoic man. “Quit your handwringing, old friend. We’re not letting Maddox close enough to board.” He turned to his crew, voice cutting through the morning air. “All hands to stations! Gun crews below! Riggers to your posts!” Men scrambled across the deck as he strode to the helm. “We blow them out of the water as soon as we can reach them.”

The Duke’s eyebrows shot up. “With what?”

“Got myself a new set of long nines,” Raggon explained with a wolfish grin. “—a birthday gift to myself. We’re gonna paint the dawn with fire! Can’t think of a better way to celebrate, can you?”

The Duke heaved a groan as the crew scrambled to battle stations. “You remind me more of your father every day.”

“That so?” Raggon smirked. “Even if Iama rummy prince?”

“Especially then,” the Duke said, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

Raggon drew his sword, and before anyone could stop him, vaulted onto the ship’s rail. In a surge of energy, he dissolved into seafoam, materializing in the crow’s nest next to his startled shipmate. Only those of the Sylphorian’s royal line carried this strange power—the ability to turn flesh to vapor. Many whispered it was a remnant of Undine’s curse. But even royal blood could only sustain such transformations for brief, spontaneous bursts.

“Keep your eyes on their gunports!” he ordered the lookout. “First sign they’re opening, you signal.” Without waiting for acknowledgment, he shifted again—appearing at the bow, ready to direct the gun crews.

That’s when he saw more enemy. Two more ships emerging from the morning mist, rounding the peninsula’s rocky spine.Their black sails unfurled like crow’s wings against the dawn sky. Raggon was caught in their trap. Already his men’s cries echoed the discovery.

“Duke!” Raggon’s voice carried across the deck as he shifted back to the helm in a spray of sea mist. “You’re not going to like this.”

The Duke’s hand tightened on his sword hilt. “Was this really the birthday celebration you had in mind, my boy? Three against one!”

Raggon’s jaw steeled. The Land Witch thought she won, did she? “Yes—that’s three less enemy ships we have to worry about. Signal the gun crews—we’re blasting our way out of Circe’s net.”

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