The Sea Siren

Chapter Thirty-Six

Vivian

Bastian, carrying weapons like cargo on his hips, crosses the busy street of drunkards quite stealthily for a man of his size. The chalice of mead remains untouched in my grasp as he sits down with the rest of us. Baystone is a hub for deceit and violence, so he lowers his voice before speaking, ensuring we are the only ones who can hear the information he's learned.

"We're close," he says quietly, making all tension leave my shoulders. A smile as vicious as mine widens. "He was spotted two towns over. Luck has favored us."

Kenut points to the map laid in front of him. "Less than a two days sail from here."

"Out of all places, he chose to hide this close to Baystone?"

Xiu chuckles. "He's a dumb bastard."

It was weeks ago I arrived back here just past dawn, having just left a prince alone in bed.

That night, I drowned myself in drink, locked in a room on my own. For a split second, an unusually unravelling moment, the pain I've lived with for years was replaced. That night, I could only see Antony... only yearn for his return.

But that wasn't going to happen. I regained my sense quite quickly once I sobered up.

Antony was gone.

He had a home to return to. He wasn't going to follow me... walk through the door and swear off his lineage so he can continue to make love to a criminal. Because that is what I am.

It was that reminder that rose me from the bed, dressed me and brought back to my plans... my vengeance.

We've been searching tirelessly for Michel ever since.

All of us, day and night, finding information, entering meetings in dark alleyways.

This is the first moment of hope.

"Who told you this?"

"Deveraux. Said he didn't know exactly where. He was tight-lipped."

"Because he knows more," I say, pushing my drink to the side, no longer interested in it. "He's an envoy. Of course, he knows more."

"Ilon Clan has offered him protection. At least fifteen men. It took a substantial price to even get a sit-down with the man."

"Then we catch them on the move," I say, standing from the bench. "And make him talk...by whatever means necessary."

***

The auburn shingles on the roof wobble under my boots.

Made up of mostly taverns and brothels, ship ports, the entirety of Baystone can be seen from this ledge, even if the ground is within jumping distance.

Night has cloaked over the land, disguising us from detection.

My eyes shift to the building across the way, where half of my crew waits, hands on their holsters.

Moans and laughter escape from the brothel below us, where we watched Deveraux enter earlier. Bastian extinguished the lanterns outside hours ago, bathing the entrance in blackness.

Bastian holds up his arm across the way, a signal to us.

They're coming.

The door below opens with a bang, loud laughter ensuing. The hairless head of the man we're hunting shows itself as he clears the last step, walking into the alleyway, too drunk to account for the lack of light. "Did you see what that bitch could do? Thought I'd pass out, I did."