When Esperanza awoke, the first thing she noticed was the stillness.
No more rocking of waves.
No more sickly-sweet incense burning in the corners.
No more muffled thrum of a mana engine beneath the floorboards.
Her body ached from disuse, her limbs heavy and uncooperative. Her mouth tasted like metal. Her head throbbed, temples pulsing with the weight of dreamless, drugged sleep. How long had it been? A few days? A week? More?
She didn't know.
What she did know was that she was no longer aboard the ship.
The bed beneath her was far too soft, layered in sheets of dark velvet and embroidered gold thread. Everything smelled of sage, smoke, and sea salt. Faint carvings in the stone walls around her suggested she was inside some kind of temple or cliffside sanctum. And that's when the next realization hit her like a slap:
She was underground.
Or at least beneath something massive. There was no breeze, no sound of waves. Just the oppressive hush of ancient stone walls and the low hum of enchantments woven into the chamber itself.
Groaning, Esperanza struggled to sit upright, her hands trembling from weakness. Her head swam.
And then she saw him.
Juan Ernesto.
Sitting in a high-backed chair near the door, legs crossed, arms relaxed. Watching her. Waiting.
He smiled, soft and unreadable.
But her eyes snapped next to the woman beside him.
Older. Sharper. Her presence like a blade wrapped in silk. She looked remarkably like Juan-
Jet-black hair braided tight and laced with gold wire, the ends weighted by bone spikes and shimmering beads. She wore robes of blood-red and storm-cloud gray, marked with symbols Esperanza half-recognized from her mother's books. One of her ears was pierced clean through with a small serpent bone. A priestess, maybe. No, something older than a priestess. A ruler. A practitioner. A witch.
The woman laid a hand on Juan's shoulder in farewell, then stepped forward slowly, each movement measured and reverent. Her eyes gleamed with a soft power.
Esperanza recoiled.
Her magic sparked to life before she could contain it- wild and furious. The curtains burst into flame. Thunder cracked so violently above the stone ceiling that it split part of the wall. A painting fell from its hook and shattered on the floor.
Juan's mother laughed. Not afraid, but delighted.
"You were right, mijo," she said, calm even as the flames were swiftly snuffed by the enchanted wards. "She's all vinegar. As a queen should be."
Then the woman knelt.
Right there, before Esperanza's bed, she dropped gracefully to one knee and placed a hand to her chest. Her voice dropped low and reverent.
"Mi Reina," she said, eyes shining. "Welcome home."
Esperanza froze. Her breathing uneven. Her fingers trembled.
Reina.
She'd heard that before. When she was small. Crying in a hallway, too young to understand what was happening. Someone, not her parents, had called her that.
"Too much vinegar for a baby storm," they'd said.
She wanted her mother now. Her father. Someone to tell her this was all a very elaborate, awful dream. But no one came.
Juan stepped forward then, kneeling beside his mother.
His voice was careful, coaxing. "You carry Guabancex's bloodline, Esperanza. You are her chosen vessel. That is why the storms answer your cries. You are meant to rule, meant to become the High Queen of the Kingdom of Storm and Lion."
He smiled again.
"And I am to be your protector. Your consort."
A knight.
Her king.
Esperanza blinked.
It didn't make sense.
None of this did.
Queen? Vessel? Kingdom?
She was only eleven.
Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Her jaw clenched. She sank back against the mound of pillows, overwhelmed, sickened.
Then, through gritted teeth, she hissed the only thing her heart could manage:
"You're all fucked."
Across the sea, Elena hissed awake like something bit her, bolting upright in bed.
Niegal, who hadn't slept at all, immediately reached for her, his hands glowing faintly with healing magic as he cradled her shoulders. Her heart thundered like it was trying to tear through her ribs.
"I saw her!" she gasped, hands shaking as they covered her face. Her voice cracked. "I saw her, Niegal- they took her underground! She's awake now."
He said nothing, just held her tighter, trying to ground her.
Elena shivered.
"Juan's mother was there. She looks just like him. And they- " her voice faltered, her body physically recoiling, "they're going to crown her. Marry her."
Niegal's eyes darkened. His fangs pressed against his teeth. The lion within snarled, pacing, furious.
"She's eleven," Elena whispered, voice full of rage and horror. "ELEVEN. And they want her to become what we are. A vessel. A bride. A goddess to be shackled."
The serpent inside her rattled and shrieked. The pain of it was unbearable.
Niegal surged to his feet, pacing now, fists clenched at his sides. "I'll kill them," he growled low, barely audible. "I'll rip them apart with my hands if I must."
Elena stood slowly, still dizzy, still weak from the bond. But she moved to him, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pressed her forehead to his chest.
"We have to get there," she said. "Before they finish the ritual. Before they force her into it."
Niegal's breath was shallow, fury boiling just beneath his skin.
"We're almost there," he whispered. "I know we are. But it's not enough."
The sea outside responded.
Waves rose.
The storm woke.
Lightning flashed across the deck of La Sirena as the crew roused in alarm.
But the gods didn't quiet. Not this time.
Not when their child had been taken to the altar.