Page 8 of Slayer

I take a puff from my pipe. “Nyra,” I say in an exhale. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Her eyes flick over me, missing nothing. “Don’t play with me, Neressa,” she says, her gaze sweeping the dimly lit room. “Is he in here?”

I smile lazily and let out a soft laugh. If she were anyone else, speaking to me like that and storming into my space…

“He is.” My eyes narrow. “What’s going on?”

I step aside, letting her cross the threshold—a small, deliberate move. She walks in and immediately wrinkles her nose. “Gods, Neressa. It smells like sex and smoke in here. Would it kill you to light another lantern? Or a candle?”

I shut the door behind her and watch her move around the room like it’s her own. “You’re like a fucking bat,” she mutters, referring to the darkness and my nocturnal nature. She’s a beautiful woman, no doubt, but with a tongue sharper than most pirates. I wonder how much of that is me rubbing off on her. Over the years, we’ve grown closer than I ever imagined possible for myself.

Still, no matter how many times she steps foot in here, she doesn’t realize I rearrange the space constantly. I can’t have anyone knowing where anything is, not even her. I trust her, but I trust myself more.

“Hmm,” I say, tamping the hot tobacco at the end of my pipe with a finger. “Came here to throw blades at me, love?” My voice matches hers, sharp. She lights another lantern, and the room comes alive, shadows retreating as the flames dance against the stone.

“Maddoc, come out,” Nyra says with an irritated sigh. “You’re not fooling me.”

“Nyra,” I reply lazily, exhaling smoke, “only I tell the boy what to do.” I cock my brow. “What is it you came for?” Maddoc steps out of the hidden escape route, the hood of his cloak still drawn low, shadows swallowing most of his face. He doesn’t speak, just casually leans against the wall.

Nyra’s gaze flicks to his tall, broad, dark figure behind my desk. She doesn’t flinch, but her posture shifts. “Maddoc, how many times do I have to keep remaking your order? You have to come by to pick it up.” Her tone is stern and slightly annoyed as she crosses her arms.

Nyra is a highly sought-after herbalist, known for healing the people of Magda and the travelers who journey here seeking her remedies. Most pay top coin for anything made by her hands. She’s healed me several times, on those rare occasions my ego permits me to ask for help.

“I’m sorry, Nyra. I’ll come pick it up next week. Will it still be good by then?” Maddoc asks, still hovering in the shadows. What the fuck did he order from Nyra?

“Why not today?” Nyra shoots back.

“I have to leave now to make it back in time, so next week it is,” Maddoc says with a small smile tugging at his lips, fully aware of how much he’s annoying her.

“Fine, but this is the last time I hold your shit, got it? You need to keep applying the comfrey regularly. It won’t heal properly without consistency.” She arches a brow. “You can’t just slap salve on once and expect miracles, Maddoc.”

“Be careful Nyra, I might start to think you care,” Maddoc teases smugly. Nyra rolls her eyes at him. Then she turns to me.

“Bleu is here,” she says. “He’s asking for you.” A breath catches in my chest. “Mira is with him, at the docks.” My eyes widen just slightly at the mention of my family.

Family. The word blooms in my chest like warmth in winter. Bleu and Mira are the only ones I have left after Sirena was killed by Captain Eldoris, a living pirate legend. A piece of my heart shattered that day. She wasn’t my mother, but she was the one who saved me. I wish I could have saved her. Sirena told me everything—my destiny, where I came from, why the ocean is deadly for me to step into, why nightmares have haunted me for as long as I can remember—when I was still very young. Though with the life I live, “young” means something different for me.

Bleu and Mira haven’t visited in months. They’ve been out at sea, looking for pieces of a broken map leading to a legend I believe is impossible to find. Even if it’s out there, some treasures are meant to stay hidden.

“Thank you for coming to tell me. And for putting Maddoc in his place. Sometimes he needs that,” I say with a wink, hoping to defuse her emotions toward him.

My senses sharpen the second a knock echoes through the room. My gaze snaps from Nyra to the door.

“Nyra, go stand by Maddoc,” I mutter.

No one comes to my door without a reason. Maybe it’s Zorren. Or someone sent to kill me or looking to hire me to kill another. Either way, I’d rather not have Nyra caught in the line of fire.

Nyra moves without argument, stepping behind Maddoc, his tall frame casting a shadow over her.

I walk toward the door, unlatching the lock before cracking it open just enough to peek through. Zorren. His wild curls give him away almost instantly.

Thirteen years old. Skin the warm shade of polished mahogany and a smile that will one day leave women weak in the knees. But here, tucked in the shadows, he’s still just a boy. The boy who saw what I could do, what I was raised to do, long before he ever should have.

I took him in to keep him alive and because of that, he’s mine in a way I can’t explain. Blood without sharing it. The one person I would bleed for without hesitation. Die for in a heartbeat.

I grab his arm and pull him inside as fast as I can. “Zorren, what did I fucking say about being spotted anywhere near me?” I spit out at him, then slam the door and lock it. He stands there quietly, looking me over, assessing. “Well? What is it?” I ask.

His golden-brown eyes finally met mine. “I had to come. I’m sorry, I know better… but he said it was urgent.” He stops speaking and takes a deep breath.