Page 15 of Of the Stars and Sea

“Be free, my friend.” As I settle her back down, I reach inside of her coat and take the golden box, then bury it inside of my own coat before I shift to stand.

Not a moment later and I feel the icy metal of a blade at my throat. “Not so fast.” The sound of Blythe’s gravelly voice rakes down my spine. Several pairs of boots scrape over the cobblestone streets along with the chattering snickers of Blythe’s men who joined him in the hunt for the Serpent’s Key.

“Rowenya!” Amara’s scream has me looking to the left just in time to see her and Wells skitter to a stop at the building’s edge. She reaches for her pistol, but I shake my head no.

Her golden eyes grow wide as her hand stills on the gun. Wells’s mouth pops open like he might try to say something witty to distract Blythe. As his mouth closes, I know it’s because he understands the gravity of the situation. Our enemy is no ordinary pirate—one that can be easily fooled with a few cunning words. No. Not Blythe. He has sailed the Aelynthi Sea his entire life. Plundered ships greater than the king’s grandest naval vessels. His ruthlessness is known across the Southern Realm and he would joyfully kill all three of us just to add to the unfinished marks upon his arms.

Their intervention would only cause more blood to be spilled upon the stones below my feet. And I won’t have that. I won’t have them be witnesses to my demise.

There must be a way out.

Slowly, I turn around to find that frigid smile on Blythe’s face—like the muscles in his cheeks aren’t quite sure what to make of the movement of his lips tilting upward.

Rage—as hot as the midday sun—sears the blood in my veins.

“You killed her,” I hiss, taking a step forward. The tip of his sword draws blood. The hot liquid spills down the column of my neck, but I feel no pain.

“She stole something that belongs to me.” He snorts, like taking her life was no big matter. Like the moment he walks away from this he will forget she ever existed.

I narrow my eyes on him. “And what is it thatbelongsto you?” I inch closer, finally feeling the sting of his blade cut further into my skin as the weight of the Serpent’s Key hangs heavy in my coat.

Raven’s death . . . I can’t have it mean nothing.

“The Serpent’s Key belongs to me now, Blythe.” I pat the right breast of my coat where the artifact is snug inside the inner pocket.

Something shifts in his gaze and his eyes track somewhere behind me. Then I feel a strong shift in the wind, like it bends to whatever—or whomever—is behind me.

Blythe’s sword wavers off my throat for a second, giving me just the time I need to slip away. But the moment I turn my back on him, he’s there, gripping the side of my neck like a vice. “Try to run again and I’ll slit your throat just like I did hers.” He yanks me hard into his chest and replaces the sword he had at my throat just moments ago with a dagger. Looking down, I see the coagulated blood—Raven’s blood—on the steel blade.

I try to fight against him, but he towers over me and the pressure he puts on my injured shoulder sends near blinding pain down my body.

But even the pain isn’t enough to hide the roar of fear that rings through my mind the moment my vision clears and I settle my eyes upon the one pirate more fearsome than the one at my back.

Grayson Tyde.

Here. At Silvermoon Landing. Stalking straight toward me with his crew in tow.

Not even the King’s most prized stallion could match the racing of my heart as I watch the world’s darkness bend toward Grayson, like the very stars and moon aren’t enough to light the gloom that trails his footsteps.

Blythe stills behind me. Evenhehas the smarts to know that Grayson is the most formidable foe now that the old gods have all but abandoned us.

It is one thing to have watched Grayson from afar. To have heard the tales of his cruelty from the mouths of others. It is another thing entirely to bear witness to his power myself.

Larger than any man I’ve ever seen, his broad shoulders are hidden beneath his white tunic and leather coat that just barely dusts the ground as he walks. Ebony hair flows freely around his face in soft waves that fall just past his shoulders. He does not wear a captain’s hat like all other pirate lords who sail the Aelynthi Sea. He has no need of one. There isn’t a soul in the entire Southern Realm who doesn’t know his face. A striking one at that.

The closer he comes, the more I can see why people are both in awe and in fear of him. A strong jaw falls below thick lips that can only be described as the shade of a gentle sunset’s pink sky. The curve of a jagged scar runs over the swell of his right cheekbone. Strange for an immortal to have such a wound. Whatever caused it must have been gruesomely wicked to leave a lasting mark on the ageless.

Some part of me forgets that Blythe still stands at my back with a blade to my throat as Grayson stops just a few paces from us, for the foe at my back is child’s play compared to the monster who stands before me. Raw power radiates off Grayson in dark rippling waves and I wonder if some ancient part of him does possess the old magick—the kind that goes beyond basic parlortricks that earn half-breeds a few extra coin every night. The kind that some say the old gods stole away from our world after the Heavenly War nearly destroyed us all.

“What areyoudoing he?—”

“Silence.” Grayson’s low voice booms in an echoing command. I hear Blythe swallow behind me. His weight shifts and the blade of his dagger falls away from my skin.

Quickly eyeing the rest of Grayson’s crew, I take note of how well-kept they appear. Not a single one of them has a beard hair out of place or a smudge of dirt on their faces. They look healthy, strong, and well-dressed. None of them appear like most pirates do: disheveled, wind swept, and drunk.

Strange.

Grayson takes another step forward and I immediately shift my gaze to him. Remembering what my father taught me—never turn your back on a predator.

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