The King Who Waits

**Nicholas**

The council chamber smelled of smoke and salt. The fires that had gutted half the lower town still lingered in the air, ghosts of ash that clung to every stone, every breath.
I sat at the head of the long table, the crown still too heavy for a head that had once belonged to a son, not a king. The polished wood between us was scarred with maps and sealed letters, all marked with the same name. Blackthorn. My father’s killer. My mother’s captor. My nightmare made flesh. The councilors droned on, their voices blending into one another until they became nothing more than a tide of caution and excuses. Only the scrape of my gauntleted fingers against the table reminded me I was still here, still breathing when the better parts of me were not.

“The messenger from the coast,” said Lord Eddric, his tone measured and too calm for the gravity of what he spoke, “reports that Captain Blackthorn’s ship was last seen anchored at the Harbor at Galdren. Two days’ sail north.” Two days.

The words struck like iron. I felt the air leave my lungs. My gaze flicked to the map spread before us, the crimson ink marking the last known movements of The Black Serpent. The sight of that name twisted something deep inside me. Across from me, my queen sat in silence, her hands folded in her lap. Elara’s eyes were downcast, but I saw the worry in the small crease between her brows. She had said nothing since the meeting began. She didn’t need to. I could feel her fear as though it were my own.

“My mother and sister are alive,” I said, my voice low but steady. It wasn’t a question. It was a command to the world to make it true. “If they are in Galdren, we sail at dawn.”

The room shifted. Papers rustled. A few councilors exchanged uneasy glances.

“Your Majesty,” Eddric began, the word Majesty sounding like a plea, “by the time we muster a fleet, they’ll be gone. Blackthorn never lingers in one port longer than it takes to resupply or rebuild what he’s destroyed. You’d be chasing ghosts.”
“Then I’ll chase them,” I snapped. “I’d rather chase ghosts than bury what’s left of my bloodline.”

The older man sighed, adjusting the chain around his neck.

“Your Highness, we understand your grief...”
“You understand nothing,” I cut in, my voice echoing against the stone walls. The firelight flickered with the force of it. “You didn’t watch him cut down your father. You didn’t see the sea burn beneath his ship. You didn’t wake to find your kingdom in ruin and your mother’s chambers empty.”

The silence that followed was heavy. None dared meet my eyes. Finally, Lord Roderic, the youngest of the council, spoke, his tone cautious.

“If I may, Your Majesty… if we rush into battle unprepared, we risk losing more than we already have. Captain Blackthorn’s crew is ruthless. Even a king cannot face the sea unready.”
“He’s right,” Elara said softly. Her voice carried no reproach, only reason. “Nicholas, think. If you ride out now, you could walk straight into his hands.”

Her hand brushed mine beneath the table, a silent tether, an anchor to the here and now. The storm in my chest was already too strong.

“He already has my mother, and Mara.”

My throat tightened as I said my sister’s name. She was so small the last time I saw her, laughing in the courtyard, hair full of ribbons, chasing doves that would never land.

“If I wait, I lose them both.”
“If you go too soon, you may lose yourself,” Elara said quietly.

The truth of it stung, but not enough to slow me. Lord Eddric leaned forward, his weathered hands clasped together.

“Your Majesty, I beg you to consider. We’ve sent word to every coastal outpost. If Blackthorn remains in Galdren, we will know. You cannot act on rage alone. That’s how kings fall, and that’s how he wins.”

I met his gaze, and for a moment, I saw not a councilor but an old soldier who had buried too many sons.

“What would you have me do? Sit here while he sails farther from my reach? Wait until there’s nothing left to save?”
“Prepare,” Eddric said simply. “Gather your strength. Fortify your fleet. When you strike, let it be final.”

Elara’s fingers tightened around mine beneath the table. I wanted to shout, to curse them all for their calmness, for their restraint, for the logic that felt like a dagger pressed against my ribs. I forced myself to breathe. I had inherited my father’s rage, and I had seen what it cost him. I turned my gaze to the map again, tracing the coastline with a trembling finger. Galdren. A port built on trade and corruption, a place where pirates and kings alike could disappear without trace.

“He won’t stay long,” I said, more to myself than to anyone. “He’s too clever. He knows I’ll come for him.”
“Then he’ll expect you,” Elara replied.

Her words hung in the air like a prophecy. The room fell silent again, broken only by the faint crackle of the hearth. I stared into the flames until my reflection blurred into something I didn’t recognize, a crown, a scar, and eyes that looked too much like his. Blackthorn’s blood ran in my veins, whether I wanted it or not. The same hunger for the sea, the same relentless drive. But where he sought power, I sought justice. Finally, I rose. The scrape of the chair echoed through the chamber.

“Prepare the fleet,” I said. “Quietly. No banners, no fanfare. If he expects me to come as a king, I’ll come as something else.”

The council shifted, exchanging uncertain glances. Eddric hesitated before bowing his head.

“As you command, Your Majesty.”

The meeting dissolved into murmurs and motion. Quills scratched. Seals were pressed. The council scattered like gulls, leaving only the whisper of their departure.
When the last of them had gone, Elara remained seated beside me. The firelight played across her face, catching the faint glint of the silver circlet in her dark hair.

“Do you think they’re truly alive?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I stared at the flames.

“I have to believe they are. If I don’t…” I trailed off, the words lost somewhere between grief and resolve. “Then there’s nothing left to fight for.”

She stood and came to stand beside me, her hand resting on my arm.

“Then we fight smart,” she said. “For them.”

I nodded, but my mind was already far from the castle walls, already out on the black waters, chasing the shadow of a ship that refused to die. Somewhere out there, my mother was still breathing. My sister was still crying. And the man who had destroyed everything I loved was still alive to hear it. That was all the reason I needed. I would find him. I would end him. When I did, the name Blackthorn would be buried in the same sea that made it infamous.