Hunting the pirate

Breakfast in the southern palace was a grand affair platters of sliced fruit, sweet bread, and fish caught just that morning, sunlight spilling across painted tiles.

I'd have called it peaceful, if not for the way Isolde glared at me across the table, her violet eyes narrowed and hard as glass. She hadn't said a word since she swept into the hall, spine stiff, mouth set in a line that dared me to so much as breathe too loudly.

If looks could kill, I'd have been ashes before the coffee cooled. I tried to ignore it, focusing on my food, but every bite felt like chewing nails.

The memory of last night was a fire under my skin: the press of her body, the warmth of her breath, the sharp sting of her knee when she kicked me out of bed.

I should've been embarrassed, or ashamed, or maybe just resigned. Instead, I was angry. At myself, at her.

Across the table, Isolde stabbed at a peach like she meant to murder it. I wondered if she'd imagine it was my face.

The two southern queens sat at the head of the table, conferring in low voices. The rest of the hall buzzed with quiet activity: servants pouring tea, guards standing stiff at the doors, sunlight glinting on polished marble.

I ate quickly, desperate to be anywhere else, but knowing better than to excuse myself before the morning briefing.

Finally, Queen Marena cleared her throat. The conversation stilled, everyone's attention snapping to her. She glanced at Thalia, then fixed her sharp gaze on me.

"We have news," she said, her tone brisk. "Our scouts have tracked a group of pirates to a cove a few miles north. They're bold—raiding villages, threatening the coast, and far too well-armed for common thieves."

I straightened, every muscle in my body waking up. Finally—something I could hit.

"We'll need you to investigate, Lyra," Marena continued. "You're our best chance at taking them by surprise. I've assigned additional guards to protect Princess Isolde during your absence."

She said it with the same air as if she'd arranged for extra pastries at tea, but the message was clear. I was to leave Isolde behind, trust the palace guard, and focus on the problem at hand.

I shot a glance at Isolde, expecting a protest. None came. She just looked away, lips pressed tight, as if she didn't care one bit whether I returned or not.

"Of course, Your Majesty," I said, voice flat but steady. "When do I leave?"

Thalia smiled, gentle but apologetic. "As soon as you're ready. Our best scout will guide you. Do what you must, but—please—bring any survivors back for questioning if possible. We suspect they have a leader we haven't caught."

"Understood," I said. My blood was already singing with the promise of a fight.

Marena inclined her head. "Go with the gods, Lyra. The people of the South will not forget this."

I nodded and pushed back my chair, not even waiting for the formal dismissal. As I stood, Isolde's gaze flickered to mine—brief, unreadable, then gone.

Whatever she was feeling, she'd locked it down behind walls taller than the palace itself.

Fine. If she wanted to pretend last night never happened, I could do the same.

I strode out of the hall, boots echoing on the tile, the sharp sea air bracing as I stepped into the corridor.

My guide was already waiting a lean woman in light armor, hair cropped close, eyes the color of wet stone.

"Ready?" she asked.

I grinned, rolling my shoulders. "Yes."

---

We made good time, riding hard up the coast. The horses kicked up sand and dust, the morning wind sharp enough to wake me from the worst of my mood.

My guide Calis, was efficient and quiet, cutting through the palm groves and rocky outcrops like she'd been born for this work.

Every mile put more distance between me and the mess of last night, the awkwardness of this morning. I could feel the anger boiling just beneath the surface, a restless heat desperate for release.

All the confusion , the guilt, the way Isolde haunted me even when she hated me was easier to ignore when I was moving, when my hands had something real to hold.

By the time we reached the headland overlooking the cove, my nerves were tight as bowstrings. Calis slid off her horse, crouching low behind a screen of thornbush.

"There," she whispered, pointing.

I followed her finger. Below us, half-hidden by the cliffs, was a cluster of ships three longboats, sails furled, pirates moving back and forth with military precision.

They wore mismatched armor, bristled with weapons, and I caught the glimmer of magic here and there: a shield spell, a whispered ward, a pair of watchful eyes that glowed faintly blue.

"Not amateurs," I murmured. "How many?"

"Thirty, maybe more," Calis replied. "They're moving crates—loot, probably. There's a cave behind the camp. Could be prisoners."

I bared my teeth, eager. "We go in quiet, or loud?"

Calis smirked. "Depends how angry you are."

I let out a short, humorless laugh. "Loud, then."

We moved fast. I didn't bother with subtlety, just let my power rise, the familiar red flames licking along my fingers as we slid down the cliff.

The first pirate didn't even have time to shout before my fist crashed into his face, sending him sprawling. The second raised a sword, only to find his blade melting in my grip.

The fight was chaos: steel and fire, the shouts of pirates and the crackle of my magic. Calis was a blur beside me, blade flashing as she cut a path toward the cave.

I barreled forward, anger fueling every blow, every burst of flame. These men had terrorized the coast, kidnapped children, burned homes—and right now, they were the perfect target for everything I couldn't say to Isolde.

They tried to use magic—one fired a bolt of frost at me, another tried to bind me with glowing chains—but their power was weak, untrained. I shrugged it off, my own fire eating through their spells like straw.

They fell before us, one after another, until the survivors threw down their weapons and begged for mercy. I let Calis handle the prisoners, my fists still shaking with adrenaline.

Inside the cave, we found three villagers—shaken but alive. I broke their chains, helped them to their feet, and sent them back with Calis. I stayed behind, double-checking for traps or stragglers.

As I stood alone in the cool darkness, the fight already fading from my veins, the anger ebbed, leaving something hollow in its wake. I'd won crushed the enemy, saved the innocent but the knot inside me hadn't loosened.