Blood Beneath the Crown

I have always believed that revenge should taste like rum and gunpowder, hot, sharp, and burning all the way down. The clang of steel filled the air before either of us spoke. His blade met mine with enough force to rattle my bones. For a moment, I saw the boy he used to be, bright-eyed, soft-hearted, too good for the sea. He had my blood, my shadow, and my curse. He had taken everything from me.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” James said, his voice steady even as his sword trembled from the clash.
I grinned, the kind that never reached my eyes. “You shouldn’t have taken what was mine.”

The next strike came fast. Sparks flew. Our blades sang that terrible song only brothers can make when love curdles into hate. He moved like a soldier, measured, careful. I moved like a storm, wild, relentless. Every blow I landed was meant to hurt, not kill. Not yet. He parried one of my swings, twisting my sword aside, and the edge of his blade nicked my arm. Blood welled, sharp and bright.

I laughed, low and dark. “You’ve learned a few tricks.”
“You left me no choice.”
“Oh, brother,” I sneered, circling him, boots slipping on the polished floor. “You always had a choice. You chose her.”

His jaw tightened. I saw it in his eyes then, that spark of fury, that glint of something that almost matched mine. Good. I wanted him angry. I wanted him to feel the fire I had drowned in for years. He lunged. The blades collided again, our faces inches apart. His breath came fast; mine came in growls. I could feel the Heart pulsing against my chest beneath the coat, whispering to me, feeding my rage. End him, it hissed. End what was stolen.

“You’re not even a man anymore,” James spat. “Just a shadow pretending to wear flesh.”
I shoved him back, our swords scraping. “A shadow? Even shadows can kill.”

I swung, and he barely caught it. The force drove him to his knees. He pushed up, countered, and for a heartbeat, his blade slipped past my guard. It grazed my side, a hot flash of pain that made me hiss between my teeth.

He almost smiled, the bastard. “Seems the ghost bleeds after all.”

I lunged again, faster than thought. He blocked, but I pressed harder, driving him back step by step until his heel struck the marble dais. The windows behind him spilled moonlight over us both, and for a fleeting second, it looked like the night itself held its breath. Then I struck. Our swords locked. His arm trembled. I saw it then, the fatigue, the weight of years spent pretending to be stronger than he was. My brother was no pirate. He had no darkness left in him. That’s why I won. With a twist and a roar, I knocked his blade from his grasp. It spun across the floor, clattering uselessly into the dark.

“Don’t,” he gasped, holding up a hand. “Don’t do this.”

I stared at him, panting, blood seeping through my shirt where his sword had found me. For a moment, I saw the past. The boy who’d shared my rum, who’d laughed beside me on the docks before the sea took everything. Then I remembered Isabella. Her eyes. Her betrayal. Her hands in his hair where they should’ve been in mine.

“I already did,” I whispered.

I drove my blade into his chest. The sound was small, wet, final. He gasped, eyes wide, staring at me as though he still couldn’t believe it. I felt the resistance of bone, the warmth of his blood spilling down my hand. He staggered, and I let him fall. Isabella’s scream tore through the chamber, sharp enough to wake the dead. She was on her knees before I could take a breath, arms gathering him up as though she could pull the life back into him by force.

“James! No, no, please!” she sobbed, pressing her hands to his wound, blood slipping between her fingers. “You’re going to be all right. You’ll be fine.”

Her voice broke on that lie. I stood there, breathing hard, sword still dripping. My shadow stretched long across the floor, reaching for her like it meant to swallow her whole.

He tried to speak. The sound that came out was a rasp, barely human. “Bella, ” His hand rose, shaking, finding hers. “Don’t let him win.”
She bent closer, sobbing against his chest. “I won’t. I swear it.”

His breath rattled once, twice, and then stopped. His eyes went still, fixed somewhere far beyond her. Silence fell. The kind that gnaws through your bones.

“You should thank me,” I said, my voice low. “He stole you from me. I’ve simply taken him back.”
She lifted her head. Tears streaked her face, but her eyes, those eyes that once made me forget every storm, were full of fury. “You took him long before this moment,” she said softly. “The day you let that thing own you.”
Her words landed harder than her husband’s blade ever had. My jaw clenched. I could feel the Heart beating faster, furious at her defiance. “It gave me life,” I growled. “It gave me power.”
“It made you even more of a monster. You think power is strength?” she spat. “You think killing your own brother makes you whole?”
I took a step closer, the boards creaking beneath my boots. “He wasn’t my brother the moment he betrayed me.”
“Betrayed you?” Her laugh was sharp, bitter. “He saved me from you.”
“You would’ve been a queen beside me.”
“I would’ve been your prisoner,” she whispered.

We stared at one another across the blood that separated us. The torches flickered, their light dancing over the ruin we’d made. I could see her shaking, but it wasn’t fear that moved her, it was rage. Grief. I saw movement in the corner of my eye. A child’s cry. I turned. Nicholas stood by the window, his face pale as bone, blood still seeping through the wound on his shoulder. In his arms, a little girl clung to him, her small hands clutching his tunic. Isabella’s daughter. For a moment, the world narrowed to that child—the wide eyes, the trembling lip, the innocence untouched by the horrors before her.

“Stay back,” Isabella’s voice cut through the air, sharp and protective. She rose, pulling James closer as though to shield him even in death. “Don’t you dare touch them.”

The Heart of Shadows pulsed once beneath my coat, a living drumbeat that filled my veins with heat. There, it whispered. There lies your vengeance. Nicholas’s jaw tightened. The girl buried her face against his chest, frightened by the sound of my voice. I could see the fear in his eyes too.

“You don’t belong here,” he said quietly. “Leave, before I make you.”
“Make me?” I stepped forward, and the child whimpered. “You don’t even know what you’ve inherited, boy. You sit on a throne built on my bones. My ship sails because of me. Every wave that carries your crown remembers my name.”
Isabella’s voice broke behind me. “Enough!”

Her scream cracked through the air like thunder. I turned to her, and for the first time, I saw the fire that once drew me to her blazing bright again. She rose, shaking but resolute, James’s blood staining her hands and gown.

I turned my gaze back to Isabella. “You took everything from me,” I said softly, almost gently. “Now I’ll return the favor.”
She drew the child closer, her voice breaking as she whispered, “Over my dead body.”
I smiled. “That can be arranged.”

I watched them for a long moment, the sword still warm in my hand, the shadows pressing closer. The Heart pulsed once more. I took a step toward them.