Heir to a Fallen Star

Chapter 70

I purposefully keep my eyes locked on Kaelen, completely avoiding Silas's gaze. The sting of his comment from earlier—about us breaking each other's hearts like every other Tuesday—is still fresh, and the last thing I want is to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered.

As I step up onto the deck near the grand wheel, the playful atmosphere entirely evaporates. Kaelen’s face is dead serious, lines of exhaustion etched deeply around his eyes.

"Our rations are running very low," Kaelen says, his voice flat and heavy with the weight of leadership. He steps closer, his green eyes raking over me with a quiet, fierce concern that makes my breath hitch. "The crew is starving. And you, too, are looking a little weathered for my liking, Red." He gestures vaguely to how my garments are hanging just a bit looser on my frame than they used to.

I open my mouth to protest—to tell him I'm fine—but he cuts me off, turning back to the sea chart pinned to the table.

"There's a pirate's cove half a day's sail from here," he continues, tracing a finger over a jagged cluster of islands on the map. "We can make a stop to restock, give everyone a night to sleep on solid ground, and then head back on course by morning."

He sighs, a rough, frustrated sound, and looks up to lock eyes with me. "The only problem is, we don't have anything to trade. And we certainly don't have enough coin or rubies left to restock and pay the crew what they're owed for this run."

Silas stands just behind the wheel, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression grim. The reality of our situation hits me like a splash of icy seawater. We're running on empty, heading toward a lawless port completely broke, and the crew's loyalty only stretches as far as their stomachs.

I think for a moment and suddenly a huge grin appears on my face "What do you think Pirates would pay for balms and elixirs that ward off the song of a siren?" I say to both of them. "I still have a lot of stock, I made sure to make plenty, not leaving anything to chance."

The silence that follows my words is absolute, broken only by the rhythmic creaking of the Vanguard's Wake cutting through the waves.

Silas slowly uncrosses his arms, his jaw slackening as he stares at me. Kaelen freezes, his hand still resting on the edge of the sea chart. He blinks, the exhaustion in his face instantly giving way to a look of profound, stunned realization.

"The song of a siren..." Kaelen repeats, his voice a low whisper as a slow, dangerous grin begins to mirror my own. He looks up from the map, his green eyes flashing with an electric brilliance. "Red... you are an absolute genius."

"A genius?" Silas scoffs, though a rare, brilliant laugh escapes his lips as he steps forward to look at me properly, his previous cynical comments entirely forgotten. "In a cove full of superstitious, terrified sailors who have to cross the Siren's Shelf just to leave port? They'd swap their own gold teeth for a drop of that, Captain. They'll pay a king's ransom."

Kaelen stands up straight, the heavy burden of the crew's hunger visibly lifting from his shoulders. He steps into my space, completely ignoring Silas's presence as he reaches out and catches the back of my neck, his thumb rubbing against my skin with a fierce, proud intensity.

"You made a surplus," Kaelen murmurs, his eyes locked onto mine, burning with a mix of relief and adoration. "You beautiful, stubborn woman. You just saved my crew."

He turns back to Silas, his voice snapping back into that sharp, commanding captain’s ring. "Silas, alter our course five degrees to the east. Get us to that cove by dusk. We have a fortune to sell."

“Will it be enough to keep the crew sailing under your command for the future to come? We don’t know where my father’s next clue will take us. As much as I want to have my land bound Kaelen back I know sailing across the sea is a lot faster than riding over mountains on horseback.”

My question hangs in the humid air, grounding the sudden wave of excitement. The reality of our long, grueling hunt for my father’s legacy settles heavily back onto the deck.

Kaelen’s grip on the back of my neck softens, his fingers sliding up to track into my hair, holding me steady. The fierce, proud grin on his face fades into a look of deep, contemplative resolve. He glances out over the bow toward the endless horizon, then looks back down at me.

"If the trade goes as well as Silas thinks it will," Kaelen says, his voice low and steady, "It’ll fill their bellies, line their pockets, and buy us months of unwavering loyalty. Pirates are practical men, Red. Show them a captain who can turn a jar of boiled roots into gold and full rations, and they’ll follow that captain into the mouth of hell itself."

He pauses, a soft, bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he hears my mention of his 'land-bound' self. He steps closer, closing the distance so Silas can't overhear.

"You're right about the sea," he murmurs, his green eyes dark with an intense, quiet gratitude. "The Vanguard will get us to his next clue a hell of a lot faster than any horse. But don't you worry... that land-bound man you miss? He’s still right here." He gently taps his chest, right over his heart. "He's just steering a bigger ship for now to keep you safe."

Silas clears his throat loudly from the wheel, adjusting his grip on the peg. "As touching as the domestic planning is," the first mate calls out, a smirk finally breaking through his usual sour disposition, "If we're going to sell a legendary siren elixir to a harbor full of cutthroats, we need to make sure the presentation looks like magic and not just ditch-water. Red, how much of this stuff do we actually have to bottle?"

“I worked all night to ensure we had enough stock to last several voyagers, I’ve already bottled two hundred and eight Vials, to ensure five per crew member including yourselves, and one balm each so forty two.”

Silas’s jaw drops so low it’s a wonder it doesn't hit the deck planks. Even Kaelen stares at me, completely speechless, his hand freezing where it rests against my shoulder.

"Two hundred and eight vials..." Silas mutters, his fingers slipping on the spokes of the wheel as he does the quick math. "And forty-two balms. All in a single night?" He looks at me with a newfound, slightly terrified respect. "Remind me never to get on your bad side, Red. You're a one-woman assembly line."

Kaelen throws his head back and lets out a rich, booming laugh—a sound so full of pure, unadulterated relief and pride that a few crew members on the main deck look up, startled. He catches me by the waist, pulling me flush against his side, utterly indifferent to Silas watching them.

"Two hundred and eight," Kaelen echoes, his green eyes blazing with triumph as he looks down at me. "That’s not just a restock, Iris. That’s a literal fortune in a pirate’s cove. We won't just be buying salt pork and hardtack; we’ll be able to refit the sails, stockpile fresh fruit, and pay the men a bonus that will keep them singing my praises until we reach the edge of the map."

He glances over at his first mate, his voice snapping back into a sharp, commanding edge. "Silas, you heard her. We have more than enough to protect our own men and still sell the majority to the highest bidder. When we drop anchor, I want a guarded table set up on the docks. We treat these vials like liquid gold—because to those scoundrels, that's exactly what they are."

He turns his gaze back to me, his hand sliding down to squeeze my hip gently through my loose trousers. "You've carried this entire ship on your shoulders tonight, Red. Go get some rest before we hit the cove. You've more than earned it."

“I think we should sell all of the stock, we don’t know when we will meet land again, We buy more ingredients in port and I can brew us more. The more we sell the better our provisions will be.”

Silas stops adjusting the wheel, turning his head sharply to look at me, a sharp glint of greed and pure admiration in his eyes.

"Now that," Silas says, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face, "Is the mindset of a proper privateer. Sell the lot, pocket the premium, and manufacture a fresh batch with cheap port ingredients. Red, I take back everything I've ever said about your stubbornness."

Kaelen, however, doesn't immediately jump on the idea. His grip on my hip tightens, his brows drawing together into a protective, concerned line. He looks down at me, his green eyes scanning the dark circles under my eyes and the slight paleness of my skin.

"You worked through the entire night to make these, Iris," Kaelen says softly, his tone completely stripping away the captain's authority for a moment, leaving only the man who hates seeing me exhaust myself. "And brewing that stuff isn't just chopping roots—it takes a toll on you. Selling every single vial leaves us completely exposed if we hit a rogue siren pod before you can restock."

He looks out over the water, weighing the gold against our safety, before his gaze snaps back to mine, seeing the fierce, unyielding determination burning in my eyes. He sighs, a defeated but incredibly fond smile breaking through.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" he murmurs, shaking his head. "Fine. We sell the lot. But on one condition: the moment we anchor, Silas handles the market setup, the crew handles the heavy lifting, and you go straight to my cabin to sleep. No arguments. If you're going to rebuild our entire inventory from scratch at the next port, I need you rested."

He raises an eyebrow, a teasing challenge in his eyes. "Do we have a deal, merchant?"

“Unfortunately the ingredients are not going to be cheap, But I doubt that will be a problem considering what we’re going to make.” I say towards Silas.

Silas lets out a sharp, appreciative whistle, completely missing the sudden shift in my posture as he focuses on the sea charts. "Aye, let the ingredients cost a pretty penny. When you're selling salvation to the damned, your profit margins can handle a little overhead."

But I'm barely listening to him anymore. I step in closer to Kaelen, my boots sliding against the deck until the fabric of our shirt’s brushes. I lean up on my tiptoes, my lips almost touching the shell of his ear, and let out a slow, deliberate whisper meant for him and him alone.

"I'm not staying on this ship tonight. You and I are finding a tavern, having an ale, and then bolting the door closed for the night. I will brew more in the morning when we set sail."

I pull back slowly, a lazy, defiant smile playing on my lips as I look up at him.

The change in Kaelen is instantaneous. His entire body goes rigid, a sudden, fierce heat radiating off him as my words sink in. The disciplined, calculating captain evaporates in a heartbeat. His green eyes darken to the color of a stormy sea, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle leaps in his cheek. He stares down at me, his breath hitching, utterly undone by the promise of a locked door and a night away from the watchful eyes of his crew.

He swallows hard, his hand on my hip gripping me with a sudden, possessive tightness that borders on bruising.

"Silas," Kaelen says, his voice dropping into a rough, gravelly register that he has to force to sound normal.

"Aye, Captain?" Silas asks without looking up.

"The moment we drop anchor... You have the deck. You handle the trade." Kaelen’s eyes never leave mine, a dangerous, thrilling promise burning behind them. "The merchant and I have... off-ship business to attend to."

A breathy, delighted laugh escapes me, the sound dancing in the ocean breeze. "Aye, very important business indeed," I say, my voice dripping with sweet, deliberate irony as I hold his intense gaze.

Silas glances up from the wheel, his eyes darting between the two of us. He looks at my wicked smirk, then at Kaelen’s rigid posture and darkened eyes, and a slow, knowing smirk of his own begins to pull at his mouth.

"Right. 'Off-ship business,'" Silas echoes, his voice dripping with pure, unadulterated amusement. He shakes his head, turning back to the wheel and giving it a sharp spin to adjust our heading. "A highly critical diplomatic mission, no doubt. Don't worry, Captain. I'll make sure the crew doesn't burn the port down while you're... negotiating."

Kaelen doesn't even break eye contact with me to glare at his first mate. He just lets out a low, rough sound in his throat, his fingers pressing into my hip one last time with a promise that sends a shiver straight down my spine.

"Half a day's sail, Red," he murmurs, his voice a low promise meant only for me. "Count the hours."

"Right," I say, the word a breathy attempt to break the thick, intoxicating tension before I completely lose my grip on reality right in front of the entire crew. My heart is hammering against my ribs, and if I stay in his space for another second, Silas won't be the only one making remarks.

I step back, forcing a professional, crisp edge into my voice that fails miserably at hiding my flushed cheeks. "I need to go pack the bottles, and you need to get us to land, Captain. Where can I find a trunk?"

Kaelen lets his hand slide reluctantly from my hip, though his green eyes linger on me for a heavy, burning second longer, letting me know exactly how much he hates the distance. He clears his throat, forcing the commander back to the surface.

"There's a heavy iron-bound chest under the bunk in my quarters," he says, his voice still a fraction rougher than usual. "It's padded with sailcloth. It should keep the vials from rattling against each other while we navigate the shoals around the cove."

"I'll help her carry it up when it's ready," Silas offers smoothly, though the wicked glint in his eye suggests he’s mostly enjoying watching his captain sweat.

Kaelen finally tears his gaze away from me, giving Silas a pointed, warning look before gripping the quarterdeck railing and looking out over the bow. "Get to it, Red. The wind is picking up. We'll be at the gates of the cove before you know it."