Slowly, the swords came down. The tension did not leave with them. Steel lowered, but hands remained tight around the hilts. Eyes still watched, waiting for something to break the fragile stillness that had replaced the brink of violence.
"Now you can see," the commander said, his voice carrying across the narrow stretch of water. "The king sent it himself, and he is here now to stop you by himself." His words faded into the wind.
Maria did not respond. For a while, she did not hear anything. The voices around her blurred into nothing. The creak of wood, the crash of waves, the low murmurs of men, all of it slipped away.
There was only one thing left. The figure standing at the front of the approaching ship.
Drexo.
He stood tall against the wind, unmoving despite the ship's motion beneath him. His gaze was fixed on her, steady, unbroken.
And he was smiling. That alone felt wrong. Maria's breath slowed, then hitched slightly. Her fingers loosened around her sword.
Then tightened again. Then loosened. Something in her chest shifted, not soft, not gentle, but sharp. Confusion tangled with anger, rising at the same time.
Then she sheathed her sword. The sound of metal sliding back into place cut through the silence like a final decision.
"Why has he come?" she asked herself under her breath. Her eyes never left him. "He watched me leave the kingdom, and now he sends his sea warriors to stop me?"
Her jaw tightened. The questions came faster now, stacking over each other, none of them settling into an answer.
The ship drew closer. Until there was no distance left to hide behind. The moment their ships aligned, Maria moved. She did not wait.
She stepped forward, crossed the narrow gap in a single motion, her boots landing hard against the deck of Drexo's ship. The impact echoed louder than it should have.
Men shifted around her, but no one dared to step in her path. She walked straight toward him.
Fast.
Each step carried the weight of everything she had not said before. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. Her voice cut through the air, sharp and unrestrained.
Drexo did not flinch. If anything, his smile deepened slightly. "You cannot leave," he said. The calm in his voice clashed with the storm in hers.
Maria's fist clenched at her side. "And why can't I leave?" The question came out harsher than intended.
Then, Drexo moved. Not forward. But his knees hit the floor.
The shift was so sudden that it broke the moment entirely. The warriors around them froze.
Murmurs spread instantly, low and confused. "What is going on?"
"Why is the king on his knees?"
"Why is he kneeling before his subject?"
The questions overlapped, but none of them reached Drexo. He did not look at them. He did not acknowledge them. His focus remained on Maria.
Only her.
He leaned forward slowly. Then he pressed his lips against her stomach.
The world stilled. No one spoke. No one moved. Even the sea seemed to hold its breath.
Maria's body went rigid. Her hands hovered uncertainly at her sides, as if they had forgotten what to do.
She didn't need words. She understood. The message settled into her like something already known but never spoken aloud.
Her lips parted slightly. "You know?" she whispered.
Drexo lifted his head, and nodded. "Yes." His voice carried no hesitation now. "And I am not willing to allow it to be born as a bastard."
His gaze sharpened. "No Dragarian has ever been born a bastard before now."
He paused for a breathe. "My son won't be the first." The words struck deeper than any blade could.
Maria trembled. Her breath caught. Tears slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them. They fell quietly, unnoticed by everyone except him. "What about your fiancée?" she asked. The question came softer than expected, but it carried more weight than anything she had said before.
Drexo rose to his feet. He met her gaze fully now. "If she wants to stay, she can," he said. There was no hesitation, no doubt. "But you are the only woman I love."
Maria exhaled sharply. The sound broke the fragile stillness between them.
She turned.
Without another word, she walked back across the deck and into the ship.
Drexo followed.
He did not give her space. He did not let the distance return. Inside, the air felt different. Quieter. Tighter. "I cannot return to Cliffland with you," Maria said.
Her back remained turned to him. Drexo's brows furrowed. "But why not?" His voice carried a strain now. "Would you prefer our child is born a bastard?"
Maria shook her head. "No mother wants that for her child." Her voice softened for a brief moment.
Then steadied again. Drexo stepped closer. His hand reached for her waist, pulling her gently but firmly toward him. "Then why would you not return with me?"
Maria pulled away. The movement was sharp.
Final.
She turned again, her back facing him once more. "You broke up with me," she said.
Each word landed slowly. "You were willing to let me go." Her shoulders lifted slightly as she inhaled. "But because you found out I am carrying your child, you are suddenly interested in me again."
She turned sharply. Her finger pointed at him. Accusing, and unyielding. "You are only interested in me now because of the child."
Her voice cracked, just once. "Not because you love me."
She paused for a breath.
"Once he is born, you will use me once again." The words hung heavy between them.
Drexo did not look away. "Of course I love you," he said. His voice lowered. "You and I both know that every part of my body is addicted to you."
Maria stepped closer slowly. Her hand rose and pressed against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palm.
Steady, and strong.
"If this is true," she said, her voice quieter now, "why were you willing to throw everything we share away?"
Her eyes searched his'. "Why did you tell me that I was just one of the numerous women you have had in the past?"
Drexo turned slightly. His jaw tightened. "The truth," he said, "is complicated."
He paused for a second. "And scary to hear."
Maria moved behind him. Her arms wrapped around his waist.
Firm, and certain. "I am a warrior," she said. Her voice came softer now, but stronger. "I have watched those I love die in battle." Her grip tightened slightly. "And I have gone into war knowing that I could die."
A breath. "Just try me."
Drexo's shoulders dropped slightly. His voice, when it came, was almost a whisper. "Have you heard of Tamara Woodland?"
The name struck hard.
Maria's hands loosened. Her breath caught. She stepped back slowly. The distance between them returned.
Heavy, and unavoidable.
Drexo turned to face her. She raised her hand, pointing at him. Not accusing. Not yet. "You also visited the Oracle?" she asked.
Drexo froze.
The silence stretched. "Do not tell me," he said slowly, "you knew about this prophecy all along."
Maria nodded.
Then something in her snapped. "You ended our relationship based on a mere prophecy?" Her voice rose, sharper now.
Drexo's brows drew together. "You call it a mere prophecy?" His tone hardened. "The gods do not lie."
Maria shook her head. "Their role is to predict fate," she said. Her voice steadied again. "But ours is to make it come to pass."
She stepped closer. Her gaze softened. "Believe in our love."
She paused for a second.
"Believe that the gods are with us." Drexo exhaled sharply. His hand ran through his hair. "I do not want to see you die," he said.
The words came out rough. "But at the same time, I do not want our child to be the first Dragarian bastard."
Maria stepped closer. She closed the distance. Then she kissed him.
Soft, and certain.
"You won't watch me die," she whispered to him. "I can assure you that."
Drexo looked at her. For a moment, something in his expression shifted.
Then he smiled faintly. "I hope so." He leaned in, and kissed her back.
Maria pulled away slightly. A small smile curved at her lips. "Now," she said, "let's return to Cliffland." She turned and stepped out of the ship.
The air felt lighter when she emerged. Her presence carried something different now. She faced the others. "We are returning to Cliffland," she announced.
A breath passed through the crew.
Relief. Quiet, but real.
The ships began to turn. Slowly at first. Then with purpose. Sails adjusted. Ropes tightened. The direction shifted.
Maria moved to the front. Drexo joined her. They stood side by side, facing the sea once more. But this time, the path behind them mattered as much as the one ahead.
The wind pressed against them. The waves carried them forward. And though neither spoke it aloud, Drexo knew that this was not the end of the battle.
Not even close. Friya still waited. The Kenwools still watched. And the cost of choosing her, had only just begun.