The sails snapped open above them, catching the sharp morning wind. Together, they boarded, the dock falling away behind them, the open waters ahead wide and uncertain.
Chapter Eleven
REIYANA
Reiya’s consciousness resurfaced into a world of salt, sand, and aching wrists. Every breath was sharp, as if her lungs were relearning how to function after too long underwater. Sunlight pressed against her closed eyelids—hot, insistent.
She stirred, muscles stiff and protesting. Dried salt stung every scrape and bruise, her body a map of small agonies. Forcing her eyes open, she squinted against the glare.
Memories flickered—Castiel’s cold gaze, the ship’s cabin, the sedative’s fog, the plunge into icy water. The last thing she remembered was sinking, darkness swallowing her whole.
A breeze stirred, thick with brine, carrying the distant cries of seagulls. Pale sand stretched around her, littered with driftwood, sharp rocks, and sun-bleached coral. Beyond the beach, scraggly shrubs swayed, marking the edge of the shore. A dirt road cut through the landscape—a possible lifeline.
Then, movement.
A little girl stood a few paces away, dark eyes wavering between curiosity and fear. Small and tense, she looked ready to flee at the slightest misstep.
For a moment, they were both still, staring at each other.
“Hello,” Reiya rasped, the sound little more than a whisper.
The girl’s eyes widened. Before she could say more, the child screamed and bolted, sand kicking up beneath her feet as she fled.
“No—wait!” Reiya lurched upright, her limbs protesting.
The sudden movement churned her stomach, and she doubled over, retching saltwater. Bitter brine coated her tongue, but she forced herself forward. Too late. The girl was already a shadow on the ridge.
Reiya stopped, chest heaving, gaze tracking the child as she sprinted toward a small camp farther up the beach. Smoke curled lazily from a bonfire. A wagon stood nearby, horses grazing idly.
A woman—likely the child’s mother—dropped to her knees, pulling the girl into a fierce embrace. A man stepped forward, his stance rigid, eyes locking onto Reiya with the wariness of a father guarding his family. Behind him, an older woman placed a steadying hand on the mother’s shoulder, her sharp gaze settling on Reiya’s wrists.
Before she could hide her hands, the older woman’s expression hardened.
She’d seen the ropes.
“Don’t come any closer,” the man barked in Isseric.
Reiya halted mid-step and raised her bound hands in surrender.
“Please,” she croaked. “I mean no harm.”
The man’s sharp gaze swept over her, lingering on the ropes, every line of his posture taut. Behind him, the little girl peeked out from her mother’s embrace, curiosity flickering beneath lingering fear.
“Who are you?” the man demanded. “You in some kind of trouble?”
Reiya’s heart pounded. She needed to convince them—and fast. The ropes around her wrists told a story she couldn’t afford to share.
Forcing herself to straighten, she grasped for the threads of a plausible lie.
“I was on a ship,” she rasped. “Pirates attacked. They captured me, tied me up.” She shook her bound wrists lightly, letting the ropes bite deeper for effect. “I jumped into the ocean to escape. It was my only chance.”
The man’s expression didn’t soften, though a flicker of sympathy passed across his features. “And you washed ashore here?”
“Yes.” She met his gaze head-on. “Better the ocean than them, I thought.”
That, at least, was not a lie.
The man exchanged a glance with the older woman who murmured something low. Her gaze was steady on Reiya, suspicion seemingly softening into intrigue.
