Page 20 of Of the Stars and Sea

My gaze is drawn to where Grayson stands with his hands placed on the railing. The blond man who killed Blythe’s crew members is to his right, his face twisted in a cruel scowlas he monitors those working below. He must be Grayson’s quartermaster—and skilled assassin.

I make a note to steer clear of him.

Looking higher still, the ship’s flag flaps graciously in the wind. It is black—as all pirate flags are—with a crescent moon shining high above a sea of waves. A perfect depiction of theCaelestiais embroidered above the white-capped waves. No skulls or crossing swords. No indication that Grayson Tyde is a notorious killer, despite the blood that stains his hands.

Though, I know the truth. He may have beautiful carvings etched into the wood of his ship and a majestic flag that makes it seem like he is harmless to those in the Northern Realm who have never encountered him before. But the truth lies in his actions. The scene played out before me just this morning as his quartermaster killed several of Blythe’s men in cold blood was truth enough.

Grayson Tyde lives up to his reputation as the most dangerous pirate in the Southern Realm and there is only one thought that keeps running through my mind.

I need to get off of this ship.

Chapter 6

“Make way for Emerald Cove!” The blond-haired man shouts from the deck above. The rest of the crew busies themselves on the deck, making their way to their stations.

I place the Serpent’s Key back into my coat pocket, making sure it’s secure, given that it’s the only thing keeping me alive at the moment. Then, I wander next to the helm under the shield of the quarterdeck wall where the elaborate carving is etched.

Large waves curve along the bottom half of the wall, revealing a treacherous display of the ocean at her most violent moment. On the left is a carving of the moon and stars, radiating their light upon the glittering surface. Either the woodsman who carved the piece was a great painter as well or Grayson paid a pretty shilling for two artists to complete the piece, because as I draw closer, I notice gold flecks are painted amongst the depicted sky, marking all the stars, while the moon is carved and painted in a pearlescent white that glows every time the morning sunlight hits it.

Running my hands along the surface, I feel the ridges of every mark the carver made into the wood. It must have taken days for him to complete such a piece.

“Excuse me, miss.” I turn around and find I’ve made my way behind the wheel and Grayson’s helmsman is staring at me. He’s tall and lanky, but strong arms spill out from the rolled sleeves of his tunic. A good fit for a helmsman. His height makes it easier for him to see over the wheel and his strength is a great match against the churning sea the ship will have to fight against.

Stepping out of his way, I bump against the edge of the staircase with my shoulder and hiss. “Agh.” Pain shoots down my arm and back as I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut. Cradling my arm, I stumble forward, out of the shadow of the quarterdeck.

Sunlight hits my face. Opening my eyes I look out toward the crew and see a few of them glancing in my direction.

Fucking hells. These men don’t need any more reason to perceive me as some weak woman incapable of taking care of herself. Rolling my shoulders back, I suck in a breath and stow away the agony ripping down my shoulder blade, forcing myself to go to a place I’ve been many times before—a dark and unfeeling place.

The ship slips away from the docks, along with my freedom. I ignore the pang in my gut as Silvermoon Landing grows more distant and I focus on the gentle lapping of the waves against the ship’s sides. The sound is familiar and comforting, despite my circumstances.

Another order comes from above and I step further onto the deck to see Grayson with his hands settled on the railing as his quartermaster beside him activates the crew. The hard edges of Grayson’s face seem to have softened and I wonder if it’s because he has the very thing that every pirate lord desires—the key to the most sacred treasure of our time.

The Serpent’s Key weighs down on my shoulders—its cost too great, too burdensome. So much of me wishes to give it back. To turn the dial of time and make different choices.

Choices that wouldn’t have led to Raven’s death.

Grief and regret settles so firmly in my chest, I fear I will never be parted from them. Not when everything that happened last night was my fault. The blood—herblood—still stains my hands.

“Hello, milady,” a cheerful voice sounds from behind me—a direct opposition to the sorrow that clutches my throat. “Captain says I am to show you to your quarters. Follow me this way.”

Turning around, I ask, “Who are you?” My voice cracks against my will.

He—who is more boy than man—stops for a moment and smiles at me. “My name’s Tommy. I’m one of the Captain’s deck hands, or I want to be,” he says, sheepishly. “I’m still learning the ropes.”

There’s something sweet about him. Something sweet that will rot soon enough if he is to sail beneath Grayson Tyde’s flag for long.

“Come on.” He ushers me forward with a smile that splits his freckled face. “This way.”

Straw colored strands of his unkempt hair stick out in all directions. Unlike most of Grayson’s crew, he appears a little more disheveled, like he hasn’t quite figured out how to take care of himself. His tunic is half tucked into his trousers and one of his boots is coming untied.

Given his green age and the way he sticks out like a sore thumb, I imagine he won’t last long. Shaking my head, I follow him across the deck toward the stern, weaving through the crowd of men readying the ship for the crossing to Emerald Cove.

When we arrive at the stern, my mouth goes dry as Tommy takes a key from his pocket and places it inside the lock to what appears to be the captain’s quarters. A large wooden door made of strong cedar wood looms in front of me. More carvings areetched into its surface and I wonder how many times Grayson has had to replace the door, given the amount of pillaging he’s done over his long life. Similar to the wall behind the helm, the carvings depict a raging sea with the heavens shining high above it. Two ships lay in ruin beneath the water, their fragments strewn about the ocean’s sandy floor.

A watery grave—much like the one Grayson made for theSea Dragonjust a few nights ago. If one could not glean from Grayson’s hard face and the darkness that seems to hover around him that encountering him means certain death, they’d certainly learn of his ruinous endeavors from the art etched into the wood’s surface on his ship.He is evil incarnate.

As though my thoughts conjure the pirate lord himself, I feel the heat of his gaze settle upon me. When I turn to look at him, he smirks. Something about that smile tells me everything I need to know. Grayson Tyde is not to be trusted, no matter what fragile kindness he has shown in shielding me from the wickedness of his crew. Little does he know, he has set a snake loose upon his ship. And I have every intention of using my fangs.

---