Tides of Torment (Immortal Realms Book 2)
Tides of Torment: Chapter 32

The sun glistened on the harbor, and Sereia squinted at the brightness. The waves crashing on the shoreline rocks and gulls crying in the air filled her with a sense of peace that warred with the whirlpool of grief inside her.

Pirates died. Every day. The sea life was not a safe life, which had been made even more apparent in the past few months. The knowledge, however, did not make the loss of her first mate, her friend, her brother, any easier.

Since the day she bailed him from that prison in Tribonik, Adrik had been loyal to her and dedicated to his life aboard The Saorsa. He’d also learned to deal with her and her temper, learned how to help her through her muddled thoughts and get herself out of her own way. A first mate could be replaced, but family could not. There would never be another Adrik.

Sereia lifted her hand to press against the leather corset surrounding her midsection. Beneath it rested the fresh scar that told the tale of her death. She thought of Andhera’s bright yellow moon and beautiful dark lake. If she had gone there, perhaps—

“Sereia,” a soft voice called from behind her, and Sereia turned on the wharf to see Queen Eden making her way toward her. She was dressed in a lovely gown that spoke of two worlds, not clashing but blending beautifully.

The bottom layer was the stark red of The Saorsa’s sails, a kind and intentional dedication Sereia was sure. The top layer of the gown was made of black gauze that wove lovingly around Eden’s form in soft curls, much like a whirlpool, before the full skirt finally ended in several layers of waves at her feet. All through the black gauze ran lines of sparkling pink and purple, hints of light and hope within the darkness.

In her coiled red hair nestled a purple and black flower that reminded Sereia of a bat. Eden was without a doubt the queen of Andhera, and it amused her that she had been so wrong at the beginning.

“Your Highness,” she greeted.

“I think that we’re at the point where you can call me Eden.” She stopped before her, a soft smile on her lips. “We are to be sisters, after all.”

Sereia grinned a touch. “We are, and will spend a fair share of time together, if I am not mistaken?”

“You are correct. Every six months or so, I must leave Andhera before its atmosphere can change me into a vampire like Draven.” A distant look passed in her gaze, but when she refocused on Sereia, she nodded. “Travion has kindly offered me a home here during the months I must stay away. I have a family home in Lucem, but here the sun sets, so Draven is able to visit me.”

“Well, I look forward to getting to know you better.” And she meant it. Eden was soft and tender, in a way that Sereia was not. Oftentimes, it was a personality trait Sereia would keep clear of, as she didn’t often share much in common with people like that. Eden, though, was married to Draven, king of nightmares. There had to be more to her than softness and smiles.

“As do I.”

Sereia sighed and moved her hands onto her hips, feeling the need to brace herself for the next admission. “I, however, feel that I owe you an apology. The night we first met, I said some things about you out of jealousy and loss. I misunderstood when a courtier referred to you as the new queen and thought that you had stepped in and married Travion. I—”

Eden held up her hand. “You do not have to explain yourself. I fully understand. When I first moved to Andhera, there was a vampiress who thought she could come between Draven and me. In the end, I killed her.”

Sereia’s face split into a wide grin at this, and she laughed heartily. “Oh, I knew I was going to like you.” There was a quiet fierceness about Eden that was clear once Sereia looked close enough. Her position in Andhera and at Draven’s side made more sense now.

They shared a smile, and then Eden grew more solemn. “I did come down here for a purpose. Everything is ready for Adrik’s sendoff.”

The weight of grief shrouded Sereia once more, digging into her bones and reawakening an ache that could not be defined. She nodded. “Thank you.”

In the days that had passed after the battle, there were too many injured to see to, a trial to be held, and defenses to be reinforced. Sereia herself had been recouping from the injury inflicted upon her. There had not been time to bury the dead. After they had all been gathered from the ships and the beaches, each had been returned to their families for burial. Adrik, however, had remained in the castle infirmary, waiting for her and their crew. They were his family.

“Let us go, then,” Sereia said, straightening herself up.

Eden looked like she wished to hug her. But, seeming to understand that Sereia didn’t need that form of comfort in the moment, Eden nodded and turned.

Sereia drew her hands down over her hips. While she was now Midniva’s future queen, and newly appointed admiral of the naval fleet, she had chosen to dress for neither role. Today, she was Sereia Ferox, Captain of The Saorsa, and she was laying to rest a member of her crew, her family.

She was dressed in a linen blouse with long, billowy sleeves. A dark leather corset wrapped around her waist, supporting her back and her still healing body, and boosted her breasts from beneath. The curve of them peaked out from the scooped, ruffled neckline of her linen shirt. Instead of leather slacks, Sereia had chosen a deep red skirt that fell to the ground in the back but was gathered by leather laces in the front and tied to the belt around her waist.

A layer of linen petticoat showed below, adding a ruffle of white along the gathered portion of the skirt. It fell to about her knees, leaving her more than capable of climbing the gangway, and showed off her knee-high leather boots and the brass buckles up the front of them. To her hip was strapped her sword, and right beside it, her spyglass.

Sereia had argued with Evun—and won—over her hair, which had been simply plaited on both sides and pulled into a single braid that hung over her shoulder.

As they walked, the heavy sound of their footsteps reverberated up from the wood and bounced off the ocean water below. It was hollow and yet steadying. So familiar while also being a first. Today it brought no comfort like it usually did.

Her head and shoulders were hot from the noonday sun, and the wind whipped briskly against her cheeks, but all her senses dulled as she and Eden reached the end of the wharf where her crew stood silent and ready.

Boran, Xiu, Yon, and Yannik each held onto the wooden handle of a stretcher, his body, wrapped in first a layer of linen and then a bright red scrap of sail from their ship, nestled carefully on top. They had come to Sereia, asking for this honor, wanting to pay tribute to their friend and brother.

Eden squeezed her elbow lightly, then disappeared into the crowd.

Sereia looked over her crew, registered the grief and pain on their faces, and did her best to meet the eyes of each one. “Let us take our brother home.”

A chorus of “aye, aye” rang out.

Chailai moved to stand beside her, and together, they walked the length of the wharf to where The Saorsa sat ready to carry them. Behind her, the crew moved quietly yet steadily.

Once the procession was all aboard the ship, Sereia shouted for them to haul anchor and cut the ropes.

The wind, clearly on their side today, filled the sails as soon as they were unfurled, and they were bright swathes of red against the blue sky, pulling them out to the middle of the harbor already speckled with floating wreaths of farewell. She brought the ship to the center of the Midnivian naval fleet, which bobbed respectfully in wait.

Travion was aboard one of the ships, watching with his sailors, paying respect to a comrade who had fallen in aid of his home.

As the anchor was dropped once more, Sereia left the helm to stand at the railing of the quarterdeck. Her hand slid into the pocket of her skirt, fingers curling around the carved stone handle of the knife she had gifted Adrik before this all began. The knife had been in his boot when they’d started preparing him for burial.

“Adrik Drozdov was a member of this crew for nearly three decades. He joined as a lad and dedicated his life to the service of this ship, this crew, and myself. Adrik lived for the adventure a seafaring life brings and died just where he wanted to be. Today, we return him to the depths of the waters he loved and pray to the gods of the sea for a peaceful journey to the lands of darkness, or beyond, wherever his soul should take him.”

“Aye, aye!”

As Sereia descended the steps to the main deck, Adrik’s body was lowered to rest on its surface. Chailai appeared at his feet with two small cannon balls, each lovingly etched with the names of his crewmembers. Carefully, she rested them on top of his ankles, and with Yon’s help, wound red cloth around them and his shrouded form, binding them together. Sereia knelt by his head and picked up the needle that still rested on top.

It was her duty as captain to stitch up the last of the red fabric over his face, the final goodbye and preparation for his burial. Sereia took a deep breath and leaned down, wetness gathering in her eyes but not falling. Not now. Not when everyone looking on needed strength.

“Goodbye, my brother. Thank you for your loyalty and your laughter. Thank you for the years of your unwavering support. You will live on in memory, forever.” She pressed a kiss to his linen-clad forehead and then began the tedious work of stitching the red cloth.

When she was done, she knotted the end and ripped the needle off the thread.

Sereia stood and stepped back. Nodding to Chailai and his carriers, she signaled that they were ready. From somewhere in the crowd, a mournful song began, which each member took up, and as Adrik’s body slid into the waves of the ocean, the naval ships shot off their cannons. Smoke filled the air around them, creating a ring of seclusion as the crew gathered at the railing and watched his scarlet form sink into the depths.

A single tear slipped from the corner of Sereia’s eye, and she let it trail down to her chin. Adrik deserved it.

The tavern was filled with the crew of The Saorsa. Some sat together, others held a serving wench on their knee, and all held a tankard of ale in their hands.

“To Adrik of Tribonik!” Sereia lifted her tankard as she shouted, and a cheer rang out before all drank.

They were heavy with sorrow, the lot of them, but they had laid their brother to sleep, and now it was time to celebrate his life.

“Captain,” Chailai called out, signaling with her hand for all to quiet. “While I appreciate the solemnity of this occasion, I feel I must also ask for myself, and for the crew. What is our direction from here? Many a rumor has been circling, and we worry.”

Sereia had known that this discussion would come, but she had not been anticipating it tonight. She supposed, though, they had a right to know what was becoming of them and their ship.

“Some of you will have heard, others not, that I have accepted His Majesty’s offer of becoming his wife.”

There was silence, and then Boran shouted from the back, “Midniva’s going to have a bloody pirate for a queen!”

There was a round of chuckles and cheers, tankards were lifted and another gulp taken.

Sereia laughed and, shaking her head, she lifted her hand to silence them once more. “You are correct, as terrible an idea as it is.” From across the room, Sereia met Travion’s eyes for a brief moment, seeing only love and support in their depths. “Midniva will have a pirate sitting on the queen’s throne. But not only that, she will have a pirate as admiral of her naval fleet.”

An uproar of voices and questions broke out as everyone fought to be heard over each other.

Sereia brought her fingers to her lips and released a sharp whistle. “Enough! Let me finish. I have accepted the role as admiral, and The Saorsa’s hull will be repainted in the naval colors.” Though she’d be keeping her red sails. Sereia couldn’t bear to part with those. “Anyone who wishes to give up the life of piracy and keep their position aboard The Saorsa is welcome to.” Sereia met Chailai’s eyes, and then Yon’s beyond her, silently letting them both know how much she wished for them to stay. “Any who do not wish to fight in the name of Midniva and her king, I will allow to walk away, no questions asked, no repercussions.”

There was silence for a moment as everyone soaked up this information.

“Personally, I think we could teach the fleet a thing or two,” Boran shouted out.

“My place is by your side, Captain.” Yon bowed slightly, which brought a grin to Sereia’s lips.

And then Chailai stepped forward. She took a moment to assess the crew and then met Sereia’s eyes. “Captain, I think I speak for most of us when I say it would be the greatest honor of our lives to serve on The Saorsa for the queen of Midniva.”

Sereia’s throat felt tight, and she nodded. Clearing her throat, she lifted her tankard. “To The Saorsa, the best damn ship on the seas!”

Cheers went up and tankards clanked together. Soon there was a fiddle being played in the corner, and the celebration truly began.

In the end, a handful of the young crew members approached her and took their leave, wishing to remain free on the seas, and her cook, old and grizzled, announced his decision to take this as his chance to retire to a small seaside cottage and live out the rest of his days. But the rest had decided to remain.

Sereia made her way through the crowd. Moving up to Travion, she allowed him to pull her by the waist to his side.

“I didn’t expect so many to pledge allegiance to your crown,” she admitted.

“They didn’t,” Travion replied. “Their allegiance is to you and whatever cause you decide is worth the fight.” He kissed her brow. “How are you? Today was . . .”

“Today was rough.” Sereia nodded. “But I spoke true when I said he died exactly where he wanted to be, and that is all any of us can hope for.”

“And you?” he asked. “Are you exactly where you wish to be?”

Sereia studied his face. The sun-kissed cheeks, the windswept hair, the bright blue eyes that still spoke of devilment after all these centuries, and the depth of his fierceness and loyalty. While she would always require a part of her life to be on the sea, Travion was where Sereia now needed to be.

Marriage and the throne no longer felt like a chain weighing her down to the bottom of a deep trap. Instead, it felt like a new adventure. To stand at his side as queen, to help protect these shores from any threat, to claim a space each night in his bed.

Sereia lifted her hand and cupped his cheek, the pad of her thumb brushing lightly over his lips. “I have never wished to be any place more than I now wish to be here, at your side. I am yours, and you are mine, and I pity anyone who dares try and part us.”

They locked eyes, and matching smirks claimed a place on their lips.

“I second that, my heart.”

Ignoring the inhabitants of the room, Sereia slid into his arms, and Travion claimed her lips. Heat and love swept through her on a tide of desire, pulling her so naturally into the storm that was King Travion.

Finally, she was home.