Page 86 of Crownless Heirs

“Lorcan,” he said, nodding toward the man with thick arms, a leather wrap around one wrist, and an old scar slicing across his jaw. “Blades, fists, knees, elbows, you name it. He’s dangerous with all of it.” Lorcan didn’t bother to respond. He just rolled one of his shoulder and kept chewing whatever was tucked in his cheek.

“Kael,” Fergal said next, turning toward the quietest of the group. “Best navigator I’ve got and smarter than the rest of us combined.”

Kael gave a smile, his walnut brown hair was moving with the breeze as his brown eyes locked on Sorcha a moment before back to Fergal.

“And that,” Fergal said, with something a bit softer in his voice, “is Conor.”

Conor stood a little off to the side, resting one hand lightly on a blackwood cane. His eyes were a deep emerald, startling in contrast. He was devastatingly handsome, not in a boyish way, but carved by conflict, the kind of face that drew attention even in silence. He wasn’t leaning much on the cane. The limp in his step was barely there but just enough to notice. The right leg of his pants was torn across the knee, and through the gap, a brutal scar twisted over pale skin. Without a word, Conor spun the cane in his grip and drew the blade free. It was long and narrow, forged from a dull silver steel with faint runes carved deep into its surface. The symbols curved like ocean currents, and even in daylight, they shimmered with a cold, blue light as It hummed faintly. He turned it once in his hand with ease, then slid it back into the cane until it locked in place with a click. That wasn’t just a hidden blade. It was a Circle-forged conduit, designed for elemental channeling, specifically water. She’d seen them before. Weapons like that weren’t handed out for skill alone. They were given to Circle mages who had done something heroic. Something that marked them in the eyes of the Elders. Whoever Conor had been before, he had earned that blade.

“Ex-Circle,” Fergal said. “Knows how to get through places most men wouldn’t survive, “he’s also a show off”.

Conor glanced at them, then at Sorcha, and chuckled.

Fergal clapped his hands once.

“They’re loyal and they’ll fight to the last.”

Then he turned toward the helm, voice rising again as the sails shifted above.

“We leave in an hour. Get yourselves ready.”

Fergal disappeared below deck to run final checks. The rest scattered across the ship, each drawn in their own direction. Niall slipped off toward the galley, already asking too many questions. Kyron made his way to the weapons rack, inspecting the blades. Maelan paced the deck quietly, running his hands over the rigging and checking the sails without a word. Sorcha moved alone toward the top deck. The wind was stronger up here, pulling at her hair, colder than before. She walked to the bow and climbed onto the railing, sitting with her feet hanging over the sea. The ship rocked beneath her as she leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the open water.

Below her, the ocean stretched wide and endless. Near the ship, it was a deep green, shifting with the light. But farther out, it turned darker swallowing color as it went.

A soft warmth curled beneath her skin. She looked down at her arms. The markings, usually faint, began to glow. It was subtle at first, then stronger and pulsing. She started scanning the area when she suddenly she heard an odd noise coming from below. It rose up from the depths, faint and melodic. Not a voice exactly, It was a low hum. Notes without words, drawn out and drifting to her. She leaned farther over the edge. The ship, the wind and the others all faded. Her breathing slowed as the sea moved in slow motion. She stared into the waters searching for whatever was making the music when two yellow eyes deep in the water appeared. They glowed like polished citrine, the gold unnaturally bright against the dark.

The longer she looked, the clearer they became. Her body kept leaning forward, as if the ship itself were tilting. The eyes grew larger and closer. Her runes flared again brighter now when Something yanked at her.

Her foot slipped and her hands missed the railing but before she could fall, a hand clamped down on her arm.

Aiden’s grip was iron. He pulled her back in one swift motion, steadying her before she even had time to react. Her boots hit the deck hard. She stumbled slightly, breath caught in her throat.

“You almost went over,” he said, voice low.

She blinked, eyes snapping to the sea, but it was just water now. No glowing eyes and the song was gone.

“I thought I saw something,” she said, barely more than a whisper.

Aiden looked at her for a long moment, then turned and walked away without another word.

Sorcha stayed where she was.

A moment later, footsteps crossed the deck behind her. Kyron and Maelan stopped on either side, eyes scanning her face, then the water.

“What just happened?” Kyron asked. “Are you alright?”

Sorcha nodded slowly, though her pulse was still uneven. “I think I just saw the Merrow,” she said. “Or Kelpies. Maybe both.”

Maelan’s jaw tensed. Kyron looked out at the sea, watching it with new caution.

“They’re in Glenn na Mara,” he said, voice low. “We know that much. But maybe there’s more of them than we thought.”

Sorcha swallowed, eyes still on the water.

The wind shifted, brushing her hair across her face. Her mind pulled her backward remembering the night Eirin and Emry were nearly taken. The sudden cold in the air, the water surging, the empty stares. Riona’s screams as she pleaded and pulled. The way the song had wrapped around them, pulling, twisting and breaking their sense of what was real. But Sorcha hadn’t been touched by it then, just Eirin and Emry. Her runes had flared, and the magic inside her had burned straight through the spell.

But now… this time, it had sung to her. She looked down at her arms. The runes had faded again, but her skin still tingled.