Page 68 of Claimed By the Depths

“No,” I practically whispered, my attention darting to the horizon. “But in a realm caving to corruption and faltering beneath the asphyxiating hands of pestilence, what other choice do we have? I have faith in Caspian’s strength and all he is capable of, just as I trust that the gods, but more specifically Elaros, will protect him. Do I harbor doubts? Sure. But I am no longer willing to cower in the face of adversity and continue running from the very beings who threaten to damn us all.”

“With reward comes risk,” Ignis added without an ounce of uncertainty blanketing his tone, “and I can confirm there is a reason Alastair and Caspian have remained drawn to one another, as the God of War and Luck just so has a love-hate relationship with the God of Death. If it provides any reassurance, the two of them work together more often than not, for war brings death, and the desire to eradicate souls drives war.”

“And you’re wanting to bring war to their doorstep?” Kael asked.

I nodded. “I’d rather take it to them than to the innocents in the surrounding principalities, for far too much has already been lost.”

There was a brief second of pause before the former prince and soon-to-be king dipped his chin. “Then I suppose we will see to it that my people learn what all the Divari are capable of, as well as who will guide them when all of this finally ends.”

The apparent yearning for desolation in his eyes earned a smile from me. “Let there be war.”

CHAPTER 37

Imparted Knowledge

ALASTAIR

Sun carved through the broad stern windows, pouring through the tall panes to spill across the polished oak of my desk. Its golden hue illuminated scattered charts, some of Caspian’s well-worn journals I’d spent time hunting through, and the infamous ink that chronicled every route my crew and I had sailed. Next to the six sections of windows rested scarlet curtains, draped and tied by a fine hand I knew all too well—Leilani.

The brush of her lips was all I remembered from early dawn before she had peeled them back, only to return one more time for a fleeting kiss. Kind enough to conceal me behind the privacy of the velvet drapes that cocooned our privacy, the click of the door had been the only indication of her departure. And, as I lay nestled in the plushness of our bed, still exhausted from the prior day, my gratitude for her soared as it always had.

My world. My everything.

My wicked little fang.

Now seated where I spent nearly too much time, my eyes roved over the alcove of our makeshift den. The twin shelves that framed either side overflowed with books, navigational texts, and other treasured curiosities we’d picked out during our time at sea. Polished, the dark wood of the bookshelves and their golden accents had been designed to draw wandering eyes. Resting atop one on the left, the prop of the Scarlet Tempest served a similar distraction—a piece Parran had carved of driftwood as a means to express their gratitude for us both.

Admiring its perfected shapes one more time, my gaze moved to our covered sanctuary to ensure I had shrouded it in shadow. It was the one spot in our bedroom that I kept buried in secrecy. One I allowed no other to bear witness to, for it harbored the depth of her vulnerability and my intimacy.

I pulled my chin from its position on my closed fist, attention settling on the Fae who had snagged me from my position behind the helm. “So the current captain of the Bloodmarked wishes to set foot in enemy territory.”

Ignis, who stood before me wearing nothing more than a pair of blue fitted trousers and a silken cape adorned with a plethora of flowers, nodded in confirmation. “Do you disagree with his reasoning?”

“No.” Leaning back, I folded my fingers over my abdomen. “Not necessarily, though waving off the risk is not the type of man I am. Isn’t that right, Parran?”

Snowy locks freshly primed, they spun around from their place at the window—a spot they frequently occupied whenever I worked at my desk. “I… I’m sorry. I was being far more attentive to Ellira’s beauty than to the discussion. That is my fault for…” Their words trailed, and when they spoke again, their tone was sharper. “Where did you get that from?”

Unsure of their query, I moved to glance over my shoulder, but Ignis stopped me.

“This?” he asked, lifting a section of the fabric from his bare frame. “Syoran.”

“It’s pretty…” After a brief pause, they shook their head, glancing down at me with massive pools of cornflower. “I’m… sorry. What was the question, Captain?”

“Ace,” I corrected with a gentle smile before gesturing to the newly added crew member. “Syoran feels we should return to Serevalen, to which I humbly admitted I am not a man who simply disregards risk. Would you feel that is true?”

They dipped their chin, sunlight glinting across the pearlescent scales lining their throat. “Yes, that is true.”

Satisfied, I drummed my fingers over the dark oak. “What of your thoughts, Ignis? Do you find Syoran’s direction misinformed or valid?”

“Warranted.”

“Solely because he has shown you favoritism?”

Scoffing, his brow bones narrowed as he pinned me with a glare. “Us Fae”—he gestured between Parran and himself—“are not enslaved creatures. If anything, we stand alongside you in this war. Even if favors were passed, they would not be deemed as such, for we see you as you are, not beings whose egos we have to stroke.”

A stifled laugh mixed with an attempted cough came from my right, the sound gleeful in its own right. It was one I hadn’t heard before, a rawness slipping through the walls Parran had withdrawn in Ignis’ presence.

Trying but failing to gather their bearings, Parran chimed in to redirect. “Differences aside… are you wary for other reasons, captain?”