Chapter 1: The Suspicion
That ship went to a great deal of effort not to be seen.
Moored about three or four miles out, she raised no flags, and Jairo could discern no signs of life on her deck. A cold feeling of dread settled deep within him as his bronze skin baked in the harsh sunlight. There was only one reason a vessel would drop anchor that far out in the open water.
They are not friends of Aletheia.
Wiping dark hair from his jade eyes, Jairo scanned the Pela shoreline with a tactical gaze. She was the only Verlassen ship at that distance; the rest of the fleet remained moored much closer to the coast, where they had stayed ever since the combat ended.
“How long are you going to avoid everyone?”
Jairo didn’t answer immediately. It had been a week since Evie and Shawn returned to Dünya. Ever since announcing their vow to find and bury the dead, they had focused on nothing else. Jairo hadn’t seen Justus either, and could only assume he was attending to urgent matters elsewhere.
Everyone else, Jairo had strictly avoided.
Safiya shielded her hazel eyes against the glare, her ebony hair whipping in the wind against her auburn skin and Verlassen armor. “What are you doing up there, Your Majesty?”
Giving up on any hope that she might leave him be, Jairo wiped the sweat from his brow onto his maroon jerkin and climbed down the trellis. “Please. My name is Jairo.”
She smiled faintly. “I’ve never preferred titles either. Even when I was recognized as the future queen.”
Her words brought a sharp prick of shame. “It was disrespectful of me to treat a monarch with such avoidance. I apologize.”
Safiya waved off his concern, handing him a canteen. “I wasn’t offended. I’m more interested in what you were looking at from the roof. You seem troubled.”
Jairo frowned as his boots hit the harbor dust. On level ground, the distant vessel was lost to the horizon. He turned back to Safiya. “Which ship is missing from your fleet?”
Safiya raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Just humor me.”
She gazed out toward the water, pointing to each vessel as she counted. “The Death Knell.” Her brow furrowed. “I always hated that ship.” She squinted into the distance. “That’s strange. It was here a few days ago. I wonder where it went.”
Jairo took a long swig from the canteen, weighing how much of his suspicion to voice. He didn’t know Safiya well enough to begin accusing her people of treachery. “I saw it from the roof. Someone moored it too far out to be easily spotted. Have you noticed anyone missing? Anyone of significance?”
“It is hard to be sure,” she admitted, her expression darkening. “Many are dead. I did notice that one or two ships left harbor just before the battle.”
“Whoever is on the Death Knell didn’t leave,” Jairo said grimly. “They are waiting.”
“For what?”
“I am not certain. Until we know more, I do not want you traveling anywhere alone. As queen of Verlass, you are a political target.” Jairo kept the rest of the thought to himself—that assassination would be the swiftest tactical move to secure the upper hand in a revolt, should the crew of the Death Knell be plotting a mutiny.
Safiya scoffed. “You sound just like Liana.”
“Do I?” It troubled Jairo to hear that Liana shared his unease. “What did she say?”
Safiya shrugged. “Nothing specific. Just that it was dangerous and I shouldn’t wander off by myself. But she also told me to stay away from you.” She rolled her eyes. “I think she’s just paranoid.”
“Liana is nearly always paranoid. But that does not make her wrong.” Jairo drained the rest of the canteen. “What brought you out to find me today?”
Safiya cleared her throat, looking away briefly. “I assumed I was the only person you might actually talk to.”
A rare smile touched Jairo’s lips. “Well, you are right.”
She brushed her hair from her face. “We should head to Thalassa Bay.”
Jairo grimaced slightly at the prospect of traveling through Giuda, but he dared not deny her request—not after the disrespect he had shown her all week. “Lead the way.”
Once a booming metropolis, Giuda was now little more than a graveyard of a dozen fortified homes scattered like forgotten skeletons. The Verlassen ships had been a vital lifeline, providing the food, shelter, and weaponry that kept the survivors alive.
Neither spoke as they passed the ruins of Kotu’s fortress. All week, catapults had been steadily tearing it down stone by stone. Jairo was grateful to see it reduced to rubble. He could not tolerate the thought of walking the corridors where he had once served as Kotu’s most trusted weapon. Too many ghosts haunted those halls; seeing them buried offered a fragile hope that one day his past might be buried too.
At last, the ruins fell behind them, and Thalassa Bay stretched out ahead. A crowd of volunteers had already gathered near the makeshift morgue where bodies had been carted throughout the week. Though no one else knew it, Jairo had been coming here every night under the cover of darkness to pay his respects to the fallen.
“It is about time you arrived.”
Liana’s chainmail rattled loudly as she strode toward them. Her russet eyes were narrowed in a familiar glare, and her auburn hair cascaded like an angry waterfall around her pale features.
Cadmus followed closely behind her. It is strange to think of him as my father, Jairo thought, his chest tightening as he looked at the older man. But the resemblance is undeniable. They shared the exact same sharp jawline. But where Jairo’s skin was bronze, Cadmus’s was a deep, weathered ebony. His dark brown eyes carried a heavy exhaustion, and his hair had turned stark white from the brutal years he had endured under Jairo’s own torturous hand. Jairo quickly forced his eyes away, unable to bear the memory.
Baeddan walked right behind him, his striking azure eyes fixed intently on Cadmus as if monitoring his strength. The grueling week had taken its toll; Baeddan’s brown hair was unkempt, and a rough shadow of whiskers covered his pale jaw. Beside him, Zahara wiped a mix of soot and sweat from her honey-russet face, her long obsidian hair plastered to her neck.
Liana stopped in front of Jairo, her gaze flicking sharply to Safiya. “I see you wasted no time doing exactly what I advised against. You’re fortunate Jairo didn’t kill you.”
“And I see you wasted no time forgetting that I do not take orders from you,” Safiya shot back, crossing her arms.
“Quiet,” Baeddan interrupted, stepping between them and pointing off to their right. “Nayeli is here.”
Liana’s aggressive stance softened instantly. She turned her head, her eyes landing on a woman standing slightly apart from the soldiers.
Unlike the heavy armor surrounding her, the woman wore a simple, dark azure cotton frock and burnt sienna sandals that were dusty from the road. Her olive skin looked worn by grief, and the coastal breeze stirred her soft, mousy hair, framing a pair of striking cerulean-gray eyes.
“And who is she?” Liana asked, her sharp tone dropping into something approaching reverence.
“She is Justus’s mother.”
The hostility evaporated from the air. Without another word, the arguments were forgotten, and the volunteers set to work burying the dead.
They split silently into pairs to move the bodies. Jairo worked alongside Safiya, Baeddan partnered with Cadmus, and Liana paired with Zahara.
They labored in heavy silence for a time before Safiya spoke. “Why don’t you ever defend yourself when Liana throws those barbs at you?”
Jairo suppressed a heavy sigh, wishing she would drop the subject. “If you knew the things I have done… you would not ask me that. I deserve her ire, and far worse.”
Safiya paused, looking down as they lowered an Aleythan soldier into his final resting place. “Is that what you really believe?”
They retrieved their shovels and began casting earth over the grave. “It is not just what I believe, but what I know to be true. Everyone here would agree with it.”
“Not everyone,” Safiya countered softly. “It’s not what I think.”
Jairo sighed, the soil hitting the grave with a dull thud. “You are not someone I betrayed.”
“That is good. It means I judge you by what happens next. You still have a chance to prove yourself to me, and to my people.”
Jairo raised an eyebrow, wondering if she was dangerously naive. “Perhaps.” He glanced over toward Liana, catching her sharp glare. “Liana doesn’t seem pleased that you’re standing with me.”
Safiya watched the distant water, catching her breath before they moved to the next body. “Someone needs to tell Liana to stop being such a busybody.”
A faint smile crossed Jairo’s face. “Not even the bravest Aleythan would dare that feat.”
The conversation tapered off into grueling, rhythmic work. By the time the final graves were filled, night had fallen completely over the bay. With the looming threat of the Death Knell hovering in his mind, Jairo insisted that Safiya return to the safety of the fortified homes with the rest of the group, volunteering to bury the final body alone.
When the task was finished, Jairo walked back to the abandoned house he had claimed as a sanctuary. Aside from the heavy iron chest brought from the ships to safeguard the sword from Justus, he had left the building exactly as its previous owners had abandoned it.
After preparing a meager meal, Jairo climbed back up to the roof, determined to keep a vigilant eye on the dark waters where the Death Knell hid. He stayed awake all through the night, waiting for a sign of movement. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for, but the sharp instincts that had kept him alive during Kotu’s bloody reign were screaming. He needed to trust them.
The first pale light of dawn was just bleeding into the sky when his eyes finally grew heavy and he began to drift off.
“Jairo.”
He was awake instantly, every nerve in his body on fire. He had waited seven agonizing days to hear that voice again.
Scrambling down the trellis with fluid, breathless speed, Jairo crossed the threshold and dropped to his knees at the feet of Justus.
