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I stop and look over my shoulder, my gaze locking with his across the floor of the pub. “Where is Mira?” I demand.

His body stiffens. It’s as though he can already sense something is wrong, like he knows I wouldn’t ask unless I think she’s in danger. I turn away again and leave the pub, slipping down the alley that runs alongside it. The shadows welcome me, cloaking me in their familiar darkness. A moment later, Bleu follows.

“What is it?” he asks, his tone clipped.

“I need to know where she is, Bleu,” I snap, stepping out of the shadows. “This isn’t a fucking game! If she’s not with you… You know she wanders off.”

He steps forward, towering over me like he used to when I was smaller, when I found comfort beneath his shadow. But I’ve long since learned how to stand in my own. He may be a legend on the sea, a captain feared across every tide, but I’m a slayer. And that, in my opinion, trumps pirate.

“She’s back on the ship,” he finally says.

“Alone?” I ask. The moon catches the brim of his pirate hat, casting his face in shadow. I see straight through it. Gods, he and Mira look so much alike. They have the same eyes, the same smile, the same spirit. But Mira is also ethereal like her mother, a stunning beauty that could stop time.

“No,” he says quickly. “I would never leave her alone. She’s with Smith and the crew that stayed behind. She’s safe.” It’s the furthest thing from the truth, but he doesn’t know it. It would take all of two minutes for Silas’s slayers to slaughter all of them. They wouldn’t even know what hit them.

I start down the alley without waiting to argue, heading toward the docks. “Neressa,” he barks after me. The bite in his voice stops me mid-step. “Ye tell me what’s goin’ on.” A command. It’s rare for him to shoot one at me, so I know he can tell there’s more to this than just a bad feeling.

I turn back, arms crossing over my chest. “Someone from my past is back.” His expression doesn’t change, but his fingers twitch. “You both need to get off this island,” I say. “It’s not safe. Especially not for her.”

He steps toward me. “No one knows who she is,” I continue. “Or what she’s going to become. And we’re lucky for that.” My eyes meet his, no more games between us. “I need you to leave, Bleu. Tonight.”

He pauses, then reaches into his coat pocket for his pipe. Pitching it between his lips, he lights the bowl, orange embers flaring in the dark. He draws smoke into his mouth and it spills over his lips, curling as thoughts simmer behind his eyes. Then he hands it to me. I take it; I need the vice now more than ever, especially since Maddoc has gone back to Coral Haven. The smoke calms the raging fire in my chest, and I pretend every problem I have leaves with the exhale. “Silas,” he deduces, the name bringing all of them back.

“Excuse me?” I say, passing the pipe back.

“Ye heard me, Cricket.” My stomach tightens. That nickname, soft and small and only his, wraps around me like armor and a noose at the same time.

“He sent me a message,” I say. “I think he waited for you to dock. Timed it too perfectly to be a coincidence. I just need time to figure out what game he’s playing.”

“I ain’t leaving,” Bleu cuts in, calm but ironclad. “No one forces me off any island. And I believe ye can handle Silas on yer own. He won’t be coming for me or Mira. I can assure ye of that.” So stubborn, he and Mira both.

I look at him and roll my eyes. “You don’t know him, then. Not like I do.” He says nothing in response. “You’d put your pride above Mira’s safety?” I ask. That lands. I see the flicker in his eyes as he remembers just how important Mira is, not just to us, but to the balance of everything.

“I would never put anything above my own daughter.” His words are hard as stone. He takes another drag, smoke spilling from his lips, slithering into the moonlight like serpents. “I’ve made my own deals with him, Cricket. I’m not proud of them. But Mira is safe, I know that much. If ye don’t believe me… go see with yer own eyes.” He takes a breath, gesturing with his chin to the shore. “I'm the one that had him train ye. I’ve known him much longer than ye.”

He offers the pipe again. I hold up a hand, refusing it. He nods once, turns, and walks back toward the pub. I head the opposite way. Whatever deals he made with Silas, I don’t trust them.

“Be careful, Cricket,” he calls. “If he’s sending ye a message, it means he feels threatened by yer power.” I pause and meet his gaze over my shoulder, then nod. He’s right. And Silas has every reason to be afraid.

Chapter five

Darling

I slip through the shadows on my way to the docks, each step calculated and silent.

The urge to tear open the blood mark in my pocket gnaws at me. Whatever name Silas inked onto that parchment will shake me. He wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of having it personally delivered, by Zorren no less, unless it’s someone important. History tells me it’ll either be someone powerful, someone impossible to kill, or someone I care about. Possibly all three.

The moon lights my path to the docks. When they finally come into view, I spot the legend herself waiting at the water’s edge. The Siren. Docked beneath the glow of the clear night, she looks like something out of a dream. Lanterns flicker along her rails, casting golden halos against the dark. Pipe smoke spills from the mouths of pirates, and laughter rings out across the deck. Life pulses through her. I stop for a moment to watch, letting myself breathe. They’re alive. Not in chaos. Not bleeding or broken. Not being hunted.

My eyes catch her, a lone figure standing at the bow, gazing out at the sea like she belongs to it. Mira shimmers beneath the moonlight, her long, dark curls dancing in the salty breeze, her silhouette limned in silver. Relief hits me like a punch to the chest. She is whole. She is safe. If anything had happened to her because of me, I would’ve turned the world to flame and ash without a second thought.

As if sensing me, she looks down from the ship. Her gaze locks onto mine, sharp even from a distance. She always knows when I’m near. She also knows I can’t step foot on any vessel still afloat in the ocean, so without hesitation, she starts making her way down to me.

Her nightgown flows in her wake as she approaches. I’m sure it once belonged to her mother. It clings to her in the breeze, ethereal in the moonlight. A wide smile spreads across her face as she opens her arms to me.

“Neressa, I was waiting for you,” she says warmly. I wrap my arms around her, holding her for a moment longer than usual. I inhale a deep breath of vanilla and sea salt.

“How are you?” I ask, though worry has already begun to crawl through my veins. Something feels wrong, like he’s already here. Watching, waiting for the perfect moment. Maybe I’m paranoid, but I can’t afford not to be.