Page 83 of Scourge of the Shores
“Where to, Captain?” Frank asked.
Robert took a long breath, letting the salty air fill his lungs. His father’s ghost whispered of glory in one ear. Danna’s whisper was softer, but it rang clear in the other.
He lifted his chin. “East.”
Frank raised a brow. “The island’s west, Captain.”
“East, Quartermaster,” Robert said again, ascending to the helm.
Frank smiled and shook his head. “Aye, Captain. Never figured ye for the patient type.”
“I’m not,” Robert said with a grin. He wasn’t sure how long it’d take, but it was either Danna or Tophet.
The clack of the anchor against the hull and bloated sails pulled the ship out of port. Robert grasped the wheel as his crew hopped to their duties. Robert set his sights on the horizon.
“The worthy man from the sea,” Robert echoed Ervin’s prophecy with a whisper. He smirked. Worthy men didn’t leave behind what they wanted most.
But kings did. Because kings always fight for their crown.
CHAPTER 23
The Last Prophecy
The sea lay quiet. Cain was dead. Robert was gone. And she was still on the island three years later—chained to a duty fulfilled, yet with nowhere to go.
Danna sat on the rocky barrier where many had lost their lives in their long fight with Cain. The morning sun streaked the dark sky with light. Her gaze focused on the stone pier with the Chadwicks’ spiraled “C” carved into its crown, the morning’s shadows stuck in its grooves, before sweeping across the sea. The goats’ bleating tickled the air with the sound of lapping water at Danna’s toes. She stretched her foot as the line of white foam spread like moonflower petals over her skin before the sea reclaimed its beauty.
Three years, and Robert had never returned. She hated not knowing if he would or if he was dead or if he had found someone else or if he had just played her.
She kicked the pebbles and furrowed her brow. Her heart played a delicate dance between grief and relief, as well as the courage to move beyond Robert “The Ruthless” Jaymes. He told her he couldn’t stay, and she told him she couldn’t leave. But she let him kiss her, and with that kiss, she didn’t want any other, even three years later.
She glanced behind her at the early risers, trading places with the night watch crew. They didn’t have much to watch for these days: a passing ship here and there and the occasional trade ships from the neighboring islands. But the villagers loved their lives; they were easy and filled with joy. It brought a smile to her lips, but not to her eyes.
When she saw a ship on the horizon in the first year, her heart would spring for joy but plummet every time another man or woman walked ashore. Her heart grew numb by the second, and she refused to give it hope by the third.
Her face had turned expressionless, as had her duty as the island leader and the descendant of Chadwick. When she found herself alone on the Northern Boulder, she allowed her heart to ache for the sea—ache for Robert. Otherwise, she tried not to feel.
At least Ma had begun to live again. Without Cain to tear everything apart, Danna and a few of the islanders had rigged up a gliding chair from their hut to the outside. Ma enjoyed the fresh air a few times a week; her smile was the only thing that warmed Danna’s heart.
Lucas sat down beside her, facing the village. His shoulders slumped. "Every mornin’, I find ye here," he said, layin’ a rough hand over hers. "Used to find ye atop the Northern Boulder when ye were but a wee lass—starin’ out at sea."
She didn’t look at him, eyes locked on the endless blue.
“The DeepMother calls me, Lucas,” she whispered. “It’s a blessin’ . . . and a curse.”
Her voice cracked like old wood.
"I pushed it aside—for our village, for revenge against Cain for what he did to Ma." Her hand balled into a fist beneath his. "But now Cain’s rot, and all that’s left’s an empty hole where the rage once burned."
She cast him a sideways glance.
"Thank ye, Lucas, for preparin’ me for me place on this isle. But”—her gaze drifted to the sea, distant, hollow—“I feel like me part’s been played."
Her voice softened as memories tugged at her mind.
"They’re at peace now.” She nodded toward the village behind them. “Livin’ their lives. Raisin’ babes." She paused, thinkin’ of Lucas’s newborn son with Isabelle—the widow with two children.
But she pushed the thought aside.
