He turned to the others, all watching him as they held their breath, waiting for orders.
“We need to leave. We sail after them, and if we can’t intercept them at sea, we’ll storm Sumnae.” He gestured to the prisoner with his chin. “Throw him in the brig.”
A rasping laugh slipped from the man, whose eyes were so black and blue now that they were nearly swollen shut. “You betrayed your own crown. The kingdoms don’t know what you’ve done yet, but theworld will know soon enough. And to think King Atlas still believes in you.”
“You will shut the fuck up before I cut out your tongue,” Jak snapped, pointing his dagger’s blade in his face.
“And all for the likes of some murderous seacunt,” Collin continued, his swollen eyes never leaving Draevyn’s. “The king hopes you’ll return to Lephyrin once she’s dealt with and you’re free of her spell. After all, she’s nothing but a witch wrapped in scales and tits.”
The air around them stilled.
There was no wind, no sounds of crashing waves. There was only silence. The kind of silence that came before a deadly storm.
His crew stiffened, some shifting uncomfortably as the pirates went rigid.
Draevyn didn’t move. There was nothing but a blistering fury surging through his soul, burning what was left of his self-control to ash.
Not a single word was spoken as the prisoner ignited in an inferno.
A red-hot flame erupted from Collin’s chest, climbing up his body, consuming it in an insatiable hunger. A scream tore from his throat, his voice cracking and turning to a gargling sound as Draevyn’s power robbed the air from his lungs. The rope bindings burned instantly, and Ren and Riven took several steps back as the man’s flesh melted and smoked. He thrashed and howled and rolled, but the blaze continued to burn.
Draevyn stood there, watching his own sailor be consumed by his power, reveling in it. The scent of burnt flesh and scorched cloth stuffed itself in his nostrils. The flames reflected in his eyes, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached while he remained entirely still, his blaze devouring the man.
None of the crew moved, and no one stopped him.
When at last the prisoner collapsed into a pile of charred bone, Draevyn finally let the flame recede back into his palms, smoke trailingfrom his fingertips.
With that, he turned to his men. They all looked mortified, eyes wide with gaping jaws.
“Get to the ship,” Draevyn commanded.
Not a soul argued as they immediately followed orders.
Draevyn faced the sea, staring out at the horizon, toward the ships that now sailed for Sumnae. He knew there would be no coming back from what he just did.
If they wanted to label Esmyra a monster, then they may as well place the title next to Draevyn’s name alongside hers. For the Phoenix had been reborn from the ashes they made.
And he was coming for every single fucking one of them.
CHAPTER 37
Esmyra
The world came back to Esmyra in sharp, jagged pieces.
The scent of salt. The taste of iron on her lips. A searing ache radiating through her entire body.
Esmyra’s eyes fluttered open, the dim light of a torch casting shadows on the walls of the brig. Her head was lulled toward her chest, her arms pulled tight over her head and bound to the wall that rested at her back.
Chains clinked against her wrists as she stirred, and a bolt of pain shot through her spine. Her body screamed, but she didn’t think her voice could if she tried, her throat aching and dry. She was riddled with bruises and raw at the joints, like she’d been dragged through the depths of hell.
She tried to sit up and straighten her back, but even that was barely manageable. Every movement felt wrong, like her body was fighting against her.
Esmyra felt no heartbeat of the sea. No whispering pull of the tide. No flicker of the storm within her veins.
Her magic—no, herdivinity—was gone.
Esmyra’s panic didn’t come all at once. It seeped in slowly, a cold, creeping thing hollowing her out. Her fingers flexed as they remained bound above her head, desperate to summon asingle droplet of water or a spark of lightning, but nothing answered.
