“No,” I murmur, voice low. “That’ll do. For now.” I find myself gesturing toward my quarters, an instinct I can’t explain. No one’s been allowed past that threshold in decades, and yet my hand moves like it’s forgotten how fiercely I’ve guarded that space, how dangerous it is to invite anyone in. Yet I still open my mouth. “Why don’t you join me for a chat? Something tells me we have a lot to discuss.”
She hesitates for half a beat, just long enough for me to catch it, then walks ahead, not behind. Her back is straight, shoulders squared, daring me to underestimate her. And all I can think is,This is the first time she walks into my quarters. But the voice inside tells me it won’t be the last.
“What can I do fortheCaptain Mira?” I ask, leaning casually against the door as it clicks shut behind us. But she doesn’t answer. She’s already moving like she owns the place. Her fingers skim across the shelves, ghosting over the artifacts of my life like she’s studying me. She picks up a rusted compass, then a dagger with a jeweled hilt, items no one touches. And yet, for some damn reason, I let her. I let her touch my treasures. I don’t even try to stop her. I only watch her every fluid movement, so intoxicated by everything she does. What the hell is wrong with me?
She moves with careful curiosity, taking it all in, not like she’s admiring it, but like she’s evaluating, deciding if any of it matters. If I matter. When she reaches the bed, she pauses. Her eyes sweep over the tangled maroon silk sheets, the black comforter draped carelessly across. Fancy bedding for a pirate, but I am a lord after all. Then her gaze shifts to the large window, where the last light of the sun spills into the room like blood in water. Igniting her, drenching her in a golden hue.
She looks like she belongs in it. But she’s still quiet, so I let the silence stretch. Finally, she turns to me. “Your room,” she says softly with a slight pause. “It’s not what I would’ve expected.”There’s something in her voice, measured, curious. A flicker of surprise, maybe even a sliver of respect. But it’s layered beneath something gentler, something harder to name. Something that lodges in my chest and refuses to let go.
“What were you expecting?” I ask, arms crossed as I watch her finally turn to face me. Her dark wavy hair bounces with the motion, catching the last streaks of sunlight.
“I don’t know,” she says, her gaze flicking across the room again. “Something colder. Less sentimental. I thought you were a man who burned through everything he touched, not one who kept pieces.” Her words land sharper than she knows.
“So, you think I don’t have a soul?” I ask, my voice cool, unreadable.
She lifts a brow. “Do you?”
A beat of silence. I almost laugh. Almost. “Would I have let you walk away at the pub if I didn’t?” I counter. Her eyes widen, just for a breath. But she masks it well. She doesn’t back down. I admire that, even when it grates.
“Captain Mira,” I say, tone hardening like drawn steel, “You boarded my ship. You’ve ordered your men not to attack. What is it you want?”
Her emerald eyes lock with mine, steady as a blade. “You let me board,” she snaps back, voice low and pointed, not playful this time. “Don’t act like you’re in control when we both know I came because I chose to.” That one hits. A slow grin curls across my face. I admire her fire.
I step closer, slow and purposeful. My voice drops. “Oh, Captain Mira,” I murmur. “Don’t play power games unless you’re ready to lose.” Her breath catches. Just enough. Her cheeks bloom with heat and this time, I see the truth. She liked that. This facade of protection might be easier to maintain than I thought. She wears her armor well, sharp tongue, steady hands,but there’s something soft and vulnerable beneath it. And if I can see it, I can use it.
She pulls a folded piece of worn parchment from inside her jacket. Black as ink, its edges fraying like something timeworn. My eyes sharpen. “This map,” she says, voice lower now, more guarded, “was given to me by a witch. A family friend. She told me it would lead me to what I yearn for most… what my heart truly desires.”
She looks at me then. Really looks. Her eyes flicker with something raw. “It led me to you.” For a heartbeat, silence reigns between us. Her words hang in the air, too heavy and too true. It can’t be that easy, her just showing up on my ship, ready for me to take her.
“I think you know something about the fountain,” she adds, her gaze steady, “something I don’t.” I step in, just enough to feel the heat rolling off her. My voice drops to a low hum. “There are a lot of things I know that you don’t, treasure.” Her breath hitches at the nickname. “But I do know one thing: we may need each other if we want to find the Fountain of Wishes.”
She shifts, eyes flicking away as her shoulders square, barely, tension rippling through her like she’s been caught. Fighting herself the way I fight myself. “I know,” she says softly. The words barely make it out. “We do.” But she still won’t look at me.
I reach out for the map, palm open. She places it in my hand without hesitation. The second it touches my skin, the parchment shudders, black bleeding into a deep, violent red. Like spilled blood soaking through fabric. I glance at her, frozen, jaw slack, caught somewhere between shock and silence. Eyes locked on the map like it’s just betrayed her. I half expect it to be wet, but it’s dry and warm.
“It… it turns black when I’m near, or when I’m on the right path to what I yearn for most,” she says, voice uneven. “Idon’t know what red means.” I stare at the crimson-stained parchment. Then at her. My chest tightens.
“Not a thing,” I say quietly. “But a person you desire.”
She recoils. “No,” she breathes, almost to herself. “It has to be a thing. Like information, power, a key. For some reason I trust the map. It led me to your ship, because you know something.” But then her expression cracks, just slightly. Her eyes flick to mine and stay there. Shefinallylooked up at me. Again, why do I even give a shit if she looks at me? The truth hits her like a crashing wave.
“No,” she whispers again, shaking her head. “Not you.” Her voice sharpens into steel. “It can’t be you. Everything about you isrepulsive.” Her jaw sets. Her spine straightens. She meets my gaze with fire now. “Your father slaughtered my mother. In cold blood. In front of me. In front of my father.” She pauses. “While youwatched.” Her eyes narrowed to a lethal glare.
Her words are sharp and precise. But I don’t flinch. Tears brim in her eyes, and the sight scorches something deep inside me, something I thought long dead. “I saw you,” she breathes. “You were old enough to stop him. But you didn’t. You let that monster take her from me.” Each word lands like a blow, pointed and merciless. She takes a slow breath and then fires the final shot. “It willneverbeyou.” It feels like she spit venom at me.
The hatred in her voice cuts straight through me, sharp and unrelenting. It bleeds from her eyes, pure, raw disgust. I reach for her face, my fingers curling gently beneath her chin. Not rough. Just enough to make sure she sees me. A single tear slips from the corner of her eye, trailing down my fingers like a silent accusation. Something inside me wants to comfort her. No matter how tightly I cling to the hatred I’ve harbored, she keeps unraveling it, simply by being who she is.
“I’m sorry he took your mother from you,” I say, low and steady. “But I am not him.” She shakes her head, tries to pull away, but I follow, step for step. I don’t let go.
“No, you’re not him,” she snaps. “You’re worse.” The words land like a blow to the ribs. My jaw tightens. Heat rises in my chest.
“I am nothing like my father,” I growl. “Was he a great pirate? Sure. Ruthless. Cunning. Feared. But his heart?” I pause, teeth gritted. “Cold. Black. He didn’t care about anyone. Not even me. And if he didn’t give a damn about his own son, he sure as hell didn’t care about a little girl and her mother.” I released her, not because she wanted to be freed from my touch, but because every single second my skin touches her a flame ignites, one I can’t put out.
“But me?” My voice roughens. “I wouldn’t do that. I couldn’t. Not even to my worst enemy. I don’t hurt children. Not even by accident.”
She turns away without a word, her gaze fixed on the sea. Her back is straight, shoulders drawn tight. The silence stings. I stare at her, stunned by how effortlessly she turns her back to me, like she’s not afraid, like sheknowsI won’t strike, even if I could… even if I should.
“It doesn’t matter,” she mutters, eyes fixed on the horizon. She pushes down the emotions so effortlessly. The sun is nearly gone now, bleeding into the sea. “I need you. And you need me. We both know it.” She pauses, then adds, voice sharp, final, “We can make a deal now, or I leave. And you’ll never see me again.” Her threat is sharp. Final.
