Chapter Text
Prologue
Two lovers wander down to the shore
Hand in hand, the evening before
The day that their hands will be joined
She enters and swims with the foam
He bids her come out and come home
But deeper and colder she goes
The young mate leans over the edge of the deck, the gentle spray of the saltwater caressing his skin as he looks out for the owner of the entrancing voice. As a boy, he’d heard fables of ocean legends and myths, but paid no mind. He was sure that one of his mates was on the lower decks, singing through his porthole with a bottle of rum in hand. Moonlight flickered along the waves, glittering like gemstones in the abyss of the deep night sea.
The silt of our wedding bed
The pebbles where you lay your head
Love, come in, the water is fine
When he is pulled beneath the rush
She waits and waves, her face aflush
’Til the pale imitation drifts up
A sigh slips past the mate’s lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he basks in the sweet sounds below. The voice grasps him in a sweet embrace, his body feeling light as he hums along. Suddenly, he recognizes that there are multiple voices joined in harmony. Pleasure dances along every note that he hears, coaxing him closer and closer to the sea below. The voices unite in a chant, the sound still so entrancing.
Blood runs thicker than water,
Blood runs thicker than water,
Blood runs thicker than water,
But, both feel the same when your eyes are closed
And so, he dives.
Chapter 1
Violent streaks of crimson cover the ship, from the floorboards of the deck to the fabric of the sails. The crew is frantic, searching high and low for where Fox could have gone to. We were deep within Blackmouth Bay, far enough from land and hostile vessels to know that he had not been taken hostage.
Sea spray from below the ship deck kisses my skin, struggling to shake me from my night of one-too-many bottles of bootleg rum. I blink through hazy vision, the mates looking at me expectantly as if I’d supply the answer as to why Fox’s blood coated every visible surface of the Lost King.
“Hells if I know,” I slur, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Who was last to see Fox?”
“I hadn’t seen him after he said he couldn’t get a wink of sleep and wanted fresh air,” his cabin mate, Buck, confesses. The two are close in age, both young and fresh-faced. Why they’d chosen a life on the seas, I’d never know.
“Well, it clearly wasn’t due to hostile vessels, or danger from land—we’re too far out.” I peer out at the endless abyss of Blackmouth Bay, the ocean responding in gentle waves. Clearing my throat, I look back at the men on edge with a sigh. “That being said, the most we can do is cheers to our fallen mate. I’ll keep lookout tonight to see if I can learn any more about what happened.”
“Aye,” they resound in unison, their usual chirps sad and sullen.
“Now, get a move on, the lot of you,” I order, clapping my hands in an attempt to raise their spirits. “Clear the deck, refresh the sails, and steer course.”
With the crew hustling to return to their regular duties, I turn to scale the futtock shrouds dangling below the crow’s nest. The ropes glide against the callouses on my palms as I scale, sounds from the deck fading into the seagull calls overhead. A final huff and I pull myself onto the wooden platform, leaning against its narrow edge.
The sun has just barely left the horizon, shades of rose and periwinkle in streaks across the early morning skies. My head is still swimming from the late-night drinks, swaying with the rock of the boat against the waves. I take a deep breath, leaning back against the crow nest’s bench. Even after all these years, it seems that my tolerance for cheap rum hadn’t gotten as far as I’d liked.
The gilded compass at my waist swings into my lap, the glint of its metal catching my eye. I look down at it fondly, thinking back to the long nights of training and cartography lessons I had to undergo to receive it. I still clearly remember the day I’d haggled successfully for the first time, a fresh release from the seaside orphanage needing to fend for herself.
“Aye, lass—fifteen gold for the rare compass. Its silver hails from the caverns of Hearthorn.”
“And is that supposed to mean something to me?” I chided, arms crossed defiantly as I stared back at the old merchant with narrowed eyes. “Twelve gold—take it or leave it. Else I’ll be sure to tell your next customer that the leather hilts on your swords are all cracked from saltwater exposure.”
“You’d better take the lass up on her offer, mate,” a voice called from behind, deep and demanding. “Seems she means no jest.”
Lang Shirley—the ‘Slayer’.
The man that took me in as his own, showed me a life on the seas and taught me all that I now know. The very same whose neck I’d slit in his captain’s quarters the night he told me that ‘a lass will always belong on the deck or in a cabin’. He never hesitated to remind me that bastard children of the Crown were given few, if any, opportunities to live a fruitful life and that I should be grateful.
Lady Luck was on my side when the crew discovered his lifeless body the next morning, his blood splayed across his velvet rugs for all to see. There were already whispers of a rising mutiny amongst the mates, complaints of poor pay and limited freedoms. I hastily promised them all they desired, working tirelessly for three years to be the captain they yearned for from Shirley. Heavens knew none of them had the gall to get rid of him themselves.
Now, I stare down at the same men as they scurry around the deck, calling up at me with their foolish jokes and singing their shanties out with hearts in mourning for our dear Fox.
* * *
We’d sailed for nearly a full day on our route through the Blackmouth Bay, still nowhere near the docks of King’s Landing. The mates had cleaned up the ship nicely, spending the day restocking gunpowder and arrows while I drafted merchant agreements for our time docked at shore. We had gathered on the dock for a quick meal of cod and pickled cabbages. The crew spent the evening sharing toasts to Fox, stories of his curiosities on the ship and how he was sailing the high seas of the heavens.
The sun was long beneath the horizon by the time the crew retired to their cabins, leaving the deck to myself for the night. I settled into a rocking chair perched on the upper deck, journal in my lap and my cutlass at my ankles. I’d spent the day pondering what could have possibly led to Fox’s death.
Falling overboard would never result in so much blood. We were nowhere near a rival ship’s path—it was common for us to find challenges closer to shore. Even so, they’d have likely wanted to negotiate with me and not murder Fox in cold blood. There was no tangible answer for what could have happened, but better I investigate for the crew than lose another.
The night passes slowly, only the sound of the sea merging with the quill etching into my journal. I feel my eyelids growing heavy, the blanket I’d brought along pulling me into a deep slumber when a voice interrupts the near silence.
Mystic creature, come to me
Tell me what you know
Whisper, scream, I’m listening
There’s nowhere I won’t go
The voice is soft, delicate like raindrops on the first blooms of spring. She sings gently, her voice melting like honey over the ocean waves as her hums carry through the breeze. As much as I’m entranced, I’m utterly terrified by the fact that a woman’s voice could be heard in the middle of the sea—especially considering that I was the only woman on board.
“What in the nine hells,” I whisper, listening more intently for the direction of the song. I survey the deck behind me, the sound of my heartbeat thrumming against my ears as I reach for my cutlass. She continues to sing, coaxing me to the edge of the deck where I’m able to peer down.
My heart nearly stops as I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Below, dancing across the movement of the waves, is a woman. No—a siren.
Even as a child, I knew sirens were nothing but myths and old wives’ tales used to scare children away from the shores in the late nights. Never in my years at sea did I believe they were real, let alone a threat to my own crew. I watch as she moves seamlessly along the water, her silver hair glimmering as it flows behind her. She wears a myriad of pearls on her ears, her neck, her wrists. Her eyes are terrifyingly black, a sinister smile etched across her face as her song carries through.
My heart pounds, yet it fails to drown out the sound of her song. I can feel my breath quicken, knowing that if this was no longer just a fairy tale, that I needed to kill her. Now. I reach not for my cutlass, but the throwing knives bolted to the pillar behind me. I grit my teeth, raising the blade above my head before I prepare to aim.
“Wait!” She screeches suddenly, no longer sounding like an angel of the heavens. Her pitch black eyes are wide, her chest heaving in a sudden panic. Beneath the waves, I see glimmers of iridescent and silver scales along the silhouette of what I assume is her tail.
“What are you doing?”
“Y-You can speak?” I stammer, shakily lowering my hand. I keep my fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife. As much as I wanted to appear intimidating, I was utterly dumbfounded by the fact that I was confronted by what I thought was nothing more than an ancient legend. And a talking one, at that.
“Yes,” she replies, her voice suddenly timid and fleeting over the ocean. “Are you not entranced by my song?”
“I—Am I not?” I ask carefully, trying to understand her concern. “Your voice is lovely, but I am not compelled to jump overboard, if that’s what you’re asking.” Her eyes narrow, confusion etched across her face as she treads above the water. I meet her gaze, my own confusion swimming circles in my brain.
She returns to singing her tune from before, her words more pointed this time. When she’s done, I stare back at her blankly.
“Interesting,” is all she says before she dives back into the sea.
I slump into the rocking chair in shock, the knife clattering to the ground. Pressing a hand to my forehead, I scoff in disbelief. I definitely wasn’t ill, nor was I sleep-deprived or drunk enough to be hallucinating that I’d just seen a siren.
A bloody siren.
I look out at the horizon, gauging that we were still several hours away from daybreak. I wouldn’t be surprised if another of the sirens attempted to surround the ship and coax another member of the crew over board. There was no chance I’d fall asleep now.
Hiking the skirt of my nightgown, I head down to the lower decks and roam around its banisters for any signs of otherworldly creatures for the rest of the night. The ocean breeze suddenly feels cooler, my hair whipping across my face in loose tendrils. Every sound and every sight has me on high alert as I tap at the cutlass fastened to my waist belt.
“There must be another,” I murmur to myself, shaking my head at the hour that’s passed in silence. The deck is incredibly dark at this time of night, save for the oil lamps that hung from the rafters. I peer over the edge of the deck, watching as the waves lap against the ship when I feel an arm snake around my waist.
With a gasp, I turn and unsheathe my sword in one swift motion. The metal points at a strange man before me, his own dagger aimed for my stomach as he stares at me with wild eyes. I twist my wrist so that the cutlass meets his shoulder, slicing into flesh and forcing him to drop his dagger in surprise.
I kick his stomach, sending him stumbling back into one of the near wooden posts. He slumps to the ground and I trap his legs between my knees. His eyes are wide with panic as I press my cutlass to his neck, afraid to even swallow as I glare down at him.
“Put the sword down,” he rasps, his chest heaving as he fights to catch his breath.
“After a foreigner sets foot on my ship and tries to blindside me? I don’t think I will,” I growl, the sight of blood trickling down his white sleeve in the corner of my eye. I take in his features, hurriedly trying to identify him. His hair is a near purple, falling over his eyes in messy waves. I can barely recognize his face.
“Your ship?” he scoffs, stiffening as I press my blade more intently. “You’re bluffing.”
“And you’re one swipe from death,” I snap, growing more frustrated. I’d been patrolling for several hours. There was no sign of another ship, even a rowboat, near our vessel. He couldn’t have possibly come on board out of thin air.
Unless—
“Are you one of them?” I question. “The bloody sirens?” At this point, who was to say what other mystical creatures I was yet to encounter?
A devious smile stretches across his face, hauntingly beautiful. He lifts his head slightly, carefully so that the blade doesn’t go further into his neck. As he does, his hair falls from his eyes and I catch glimpses of intoxicating shades of blue and pink.
“Siren feels too … lackluster of a name. We do love to sing, but there’s more to it than that.”
“How are you able to walk? Why do you have legs?”
“Darling, I’d love to answer your barrage of questions, but I can hardly swallow with your sword pressed to my neck.”
* * *
“Is this more to your liking?”
The stranger’s hands are now tied behind him to the wooden pillar at the center of the deck. A bundle of rope is wrapped around his waist a handful of times. He wriggles in irritation, earning a smirk as I settle onto my haunches in front of him. I keep a blade in hand, sharpening its edge with a flint.
“Not particularly,” he mutters, continuing to pull against his restraints.
“It’ll do for now,” I order, setting down the flint as I brush my thumb over the cool metal. I look at him with a narrowed gaze. “I thought sirens were just a myth.”
“Do I look like a myth as you have me tied to your ship right now?”
“Not particularly,” I mimic, observing the way that his body looks no different than a human’s. His limbs are long, with unsuspecting hands and feet. Not a tail nor scale in sight. “Were sirens responsible for my crew man’s death?”
“Crew man?”
“Young boy. Scruffy, blonde hair. Ship was covered in his blood this past morning.”
“Ah, him,” he lulls, leaning back against the pillar with a wicked smile. “Lorelei seemed to have a ball with him.”
“He was an innocent child,” I growl, my blood boiling at the way that he makes Fox’s death sound like a sick form of entertainment for his kind.
“Innocent?” he laughs haughtily, the sound dark and soulless. “Humans are anything but.” I raise an eyebrow, silently urging him to explain. “I’m sure humans were innocent when they slaughtered nearly every last Lemurian simply for existing.”
“Lemurian?”
“The proper name for us sirens,” he replies, seemingly surprised by my willingness to have a conversation with him without my knife at his neck. “We coexisted with humankind for centuries until that dear king of yours decided that could no longer happen.” I freeze.
The Isles of Selusia were under the monarchy’s control. The ports, the surrounding seas, the trade routes—all under the watchful eye of King Cassius. He wore a complicated crown, beloved by nobles and despised by the commonfolk.
Lest we forget, the man was also my father.
Aside from Mother Sosia at the orphanage and Shirley, I’d told no one that I knew who my father was. Mother Sosia was the one who’d confessed to me when I was old enough, telling me the story of how the royal guard had left me at the orphanage door in a tattered hand basket. To prevent rumors around the royal family. To preserve the king’s image, she’d said. And she was adamant that we play along.
He was not a kind ruler, let alone a parent to a helpless child.
“What did King Cassius do?” I question carefully, crossing my arms over my chest.
“One of his first acts as king was to slaughter all signs of Lemurian life. Claims that we are—were too much of a threat.” His tone is somber, and I watch as his chest heaves in anger. “Pluck our scales, slice our tails. Skin us and use our skeletons as decorations. Rip out our throats so we could no longer sing, no longer speak.” I remain silent and he looks up at me with fire in his eyes.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I ask, and he glowers.
“I’m tied down to your damned ship,” he scoffs. “Do I look like I’m in any mood to tell you stories?”
“No,” I admit, my mind hazy from the discovery of Lemurians’ existence to the type of cruelty they’d endured. I scanned his face for any signs that he was lying, fabricating a wild tale to get out of his binds. The edge in his voice and the way he looked ready to murder in cold blood proved otherwise. “He’s not particularly kinder to humans. Not unless you have chests filled with gold and a title to your name.”
“And you’re okay with this?” he asks, his tone simmering.
“No,” I repeat. “It’s the entire reason I captain this ship. Life on land is so restrictive. What to wear, who to see, where to go. I wasn’t exactly in a position of power on the Isles.”
“And here you are,” he concludes. “But, are you truly free? If the king doesn’t kill you, a Lemurian might.” I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“What am I supposed to do?” I snap, running a hand through my hair angrily. “Kill the king?”
Silence. We stare at one another in long, long silence.
“Neither you, nor we, will ever be free with King Cassius in power,” he remarks. I think long and hard about my outburst as it starts to rationalize itself. Other pirates, merchants, and tradesmen had been increasingly frustrated with the crown. Taxes that were impossible to pay, destruction of ports and seaside villages, seizing families and homes if the crown weren’t repaid.
Not even a day ago, I thought I’d had the most liberating life on the seas.
I look away from him, out at the horizon where the sun is beginning to rise. The crew would be up soon, with little time left for me to explain or come up with an excuse as to why this man was tied to our pillar. He blinks at me as I think, chewing on my bottom lip.
“There is too much for me to consider right now,” I finally say. “You’ve murdered one of my crew. You tried to attack me on my own vessel. Your story is commendable, but—”
“Please,” he asks in a whisper. “I just want my people to survive.”
“I didn’t even know your people still existed before tonight,” I sigh. “Let alone survive. I just want my crew to survive.”
“I’ll coordinate for all Lemurians to stop attacking pirate ships,” he offers, and I raise my eyebrows in surprise.
“I’ll consider it.” I pick up my blade once more, slicing through the ropes around the man in one swift motion. They fall to the floor as he rises, stretching his limbs awkwardly. “Right now, I need you off of this ship. I need to think. If you follow our ship, we’re set to return to King’s Landing. Meet me there.”
He nods in confirmation before my blade returns to his neck. “And if you or any other Lemurian even think about harassing my crew again, I will personally cut each and every one of your throats.”
“Sounding more human already,” he purrs, wincing as he looks down at where his arm was cut. He glares back at me before making his way to the edge of the deck.
“One more thing,” I call. “What is your name?”
He smiles sweetly, though it’s laced with venom. His eyes dance as he tilts his head back at me.
“Rafayel.”