The Devil's Harbor

The night stank of smoke and salt. The harbor burned, flames licking at the sky, waves hissing as the fire’s reflection trembled across their surface. My boots struck the soaked planks, the wood groaning beneath each step. Ahead, I saw Isabella, a pale figure clutching a bundle against her chest, skirts soaked, hair matted to her face.
Even now, with the world collapsing around her, she moved like she still thought she was worth saving.

“Stop running,” I called out. My voice carried easily through the roar of the storm.

She froze at the end of the dock, trapped between me and the sea. Behind her, the Black Serpent waited, her hull black and gleaming, the same ship Isabella had begged never to see again. The wind whipped her hair across her face as she turned, eyes wide, mouth trembling. The baby whimpered in her arms.

“Blackthorn,” she whispered. “Please, don’t do this.”
I almost laughed. “Do what? Take back what’s mine?”
Her grip tightened around the child. “She’s innocent.”
I stepped closer. “Then she’ll learn young what this world costs.”

The last of her guards lay dead behind me. Blood pooled between the planks, seeping into the sea. My men stood at a distance, silent, waiting for their captain’s command. None dared interfere, not when they could see the rage burning in me. I’d waited years for this. Years trapped between death and memory, with nothing but salt and ghosts to keep me company. The Heart of Shadows had spat me back into this cursed world for a reason, and that reason stood trembling before me now.

“You thought you could build a new life,” I said. “A kingdom. A husband. A crown.” I tilted my head, watching her shake. “No matter how many names you take, Isabella, you’ll always be what you were, a purchased bride.”
Her eyes flinched like I’d struck her. “You bought me,” she said, her voice breaking. “You never owned me.”
“Didn’t I?” I stepped forward until the edge of my blade brushed her chin. “You wore my ring. Slept in my bed. Bore a child that was mine, though you were too busy lying with my brother.”
“She’s not yours,” she said.
I smiled, slow and cruel. “Good. I’d have killed her if she were.”

I grabbed her arm and yanked her toward me. She gasped, nearly dropping the child, but she didn’t fight. That was what I remembered most about Isabella, she knew when it was useless. Still, when I dragged her down the dock toward the Black Serpent, she tried to twist free, clawing at my hand. The baby cried, small and sharp against the storm.

“Please, Blackthorn! Don’t, she’ll freeze!”
“She’ll live,” I growled, tightening my grip. “You should’ve thought of her before you betrayed me.”

The gangplank groaned under our weight as I pulled her up onto the ship. My crew parted for me, half in awe, half in fear. The Black Serpent’s deck was slick with rain, the lanterns swinging in the wind. The ship herself seemed to hum, as though recognizing her captain’s wrath.

“Captain,” one of my men muttered, “what do we do with the queen?”
“She’s no queen here,” I said, shoving Isabella forward. “She’s mine.”

She stumbled to her knees, shielding the child with her body. The crew watched in silence as I circled her, each step deliberate.

“You should have died with your precious James,” I said. “That would’ve been kinder.”
Her head snapped up, eyes flashing. “You killed him.”
“Aye.” I crouched beside her. “I’ll kill every last thing he ever touched before I’m done. Starting with this kingdom of his.”
“You’ve already taken everything,” she whispered. “What more could you possibly want?”
“Balance.”
“Revenge isn’t balance.”
“It’s all that’s left.”

The baby’s cry pierced the air again, weak, frightened, human. Isabella rocked her gently, whispering words I couldn’t hear. I’d bought her. Paid for her in gold and blood. She’d been a transaction, nothing more. A means to an end. When she’d run off with my brother, she hadn’t just taken herself, she’d taken my name, my pride, my control.
That was what burned the deepest. Not love. Not loss. Ownership. I drew my knife and held it between us. The blade caught the lantern light, gleaming wickedly.

“I could end this now,” I murmured. “You, the brat, all of it. The sea would wash it clean.”
Her eyes met mine, steady. “Then do it.”

I blinked. She wasn’t begging. She wasn’t crying. She looked at me like she’d already died once and wasn’t afraid to do it again.

The baby hiccupped softly, clutching her gown. Isabella pressed her lips to the child’s forehead and whispered, “I won’t let you take her.”
“Then you’ll die trying,” I said.

I reached for the child. Isabella turned, twisting her body to shield her, but I was faster. I grabbed her by the back of the neck and hauled her to her feet, dragging her toward the quarterdeck. The Black Serpent groaned beneath us as if she sensed her captain’s fury. The sails cracked in the wind, and lightning split the sky, throwing everything into stark relief—her pale face, my blood-stained hand, the helpless bundle pressed against her chest.

“Look at her,” I snarled. “Look at what your love for him bought you. A bastard born of betrayal.”
“She’s my daughter,” she hissed, voice breaking. “She’s more than either of us ever were.”
“Then she’ll learn what kind of world her mother made.”

I shoved her against the mast. The baby cried out again, the sound shrill and small. My men shifted uncomfortably, but none moved. They’d seen me do worse.

“Captain,” one of them murmured, “the crew’s ready to set sail.”
“Do it,” I said without looking away from Isabella.

The ship lurched as the sails caught wind. The harbor began to shrink beneath us, the firelight fading into distance. The Black Serpent was mine again, and so was everything I’d lost. Rain pounded the deck as I turned back to her. Isabella stood where I’d left her, soaked, trembling, still cradling the child.

“You can’t keep us here,” she said, voice low but steady.
“I can do whatever I please,” I replied. “You forget, love, I paid for you.”
“I was never for sale,” she said, tightening her hold on the baby. “Not really.”
My lip curled. “You think you’re better than me because you learned to wear silk and play queen? You’ll learn soon enough, Isabella. The sea doesn’t care about crowns.”

Her jaw clenched, but she said nothing.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “You’ll live. For now. You’ll remember what you cost me every single day you breathe aboard my ship. James isn't here to save you now.”

The storm swallowed the world around us. The Black Serpent cut through the waves, black sails devouring the moonlight. I turned my gaze to the horizon where Vespera’s fires still burned. That kingdom had stolen my ship once. My brother had stolen my pride. Isabella had stolen my name. Now I would take them all back, piece by piece. I looked down at her one last time.

“Welcome home, wife.”

She flinched at the word.

I smiled, slow and cold, as thunder rolled across the sea. “You’ll find I’ve changed since the last time you were aboard. So has the sea. It remembers everything we gave it, and everything it’s still owed.”

The child whimpered again, small and lost in her arms. I turned away before the sound could sink its teeth too deep. The past was dead. I wasn’t. I had just taken it back.