I would have been lying through my teeth if I claimed to understand what had just happened to me. Selene had moved so fast to get behind me that I hadn’t seen any of it coming. Worse than that, a cold sweat of sheer terror had pinned me in place for a second. A second too long, apparently, because her blade ended up at my throat. I felt like prey, just as I had when a legion had once struck down one of my triads—and Selene made for the most terrifying predator.

Her breath scorched my cheek as her lips brushed my ear. I also caught the surprise in the eyes of the other Dukes.

"You’re trapped, pretty face. I expected more from you."

The idea of disappointing a Duke like him, one so illustrious, unsettled me deeply. I snapped out of it and refused to be prey any longer. I hadn’t thrown Beret off in one swift move just to suffer the same humiliation! Besides, neither Selene nor I were anything like our gruff companion who’d never fought on enemy ground. So, regaining my composure, I slammed the pommel of my sword into Selene’s side and turned as soon as the smallest opening appeared. My blade grazed his leg.

Even though we had no real intention of hurting each other, instinct demanded that under threat, we had to avoid the other’s blows. To keep him from approaching again, I took my stance, both body and sword in a far more lethal posture than before. That seemed to amuse Selene, as a pleased smile curved his lips. I too was glad to share this moment with him—but my instinct wasn’t. And that’s when I realized something I had only naively considered before: Selene was dangerous.

In a single stride, his blade was ready to kiss my throat again, but I parried it. Mine slid along his with a screech of metal, and he pushed me back at the last second. He looked far more entertained than defensive, unlike me. I kept blocking his strikes, no longer letting myself be surprised by his astounding speed, and the more I adapted to him, the sharper his blade became. It was impossible to fight with anything but my sword. I had no opening.

When he tried to land yet another strike, I braced myself to block it. However, just as his blade was about to come down from above, it dropped. My eyes widened, stunned beyond reason. He had let go of his sword. What saved my life—once again—was pure instinct. In a movement so fast it wrenched my shoulder, I tried to strike his head just as he caught his weapon lower down, aiming to pierce my flank. Luckily—or unluckily—he arched backward to dodge my blow and lost his balance.

That loss of footing was a blessing for me. Just as I hadn’t expected his trick, he hadn’t expected me to understand and react so quickly. I seized the moment and was ready to deliver the final blow—but so was he. Crashing down onto his hips, my blade plunged near his throat, grazing the flesh enough to draw blood, while his sword was pressed against my cheek. I felt the warm crimson liquid bead on my skin in return.

Both of us breathless, eyes locked, we understood the same thing: for a few seconds, we had felt like prey. We had believed we might die at each other’s hands, and had neither of us held back, we would have joined our god Rodel. This friendly fight had disturbed us more than it should have. It was a first for both of us, I realized. The first time we had felt so close to death.

He dropped his sword, and my hand stayed clenched around my hilt until Selene sat up. I let go of my weapon and grabbed his neck so I wouldn’t fall as he rose so suddenly. He was only a few inches from my face, and seeing his dark eyes from so close confirmed two things: first, his irises were so black you couldn’t distinguish the pupils; second, he was shaken—deeply and irreparably shaken—by what he had just felt, just like me.

His hand gripped my hip. He was more unsettled than I was. I was shaken, but not enough to wear that kind of look. His expression seemed to question everything. So I let my fingers stroke his nape—the same hand that had held the blade that endangered him. I wanted to show him it wasn’t only good for harm, but also capable of comfort, of warmth.

Suddenly, applause rang out, and I jumped, remembering the others’ presence. I turned my head and saw that Beret was the only one clapping, laughing boisterously. Fratera looked shocked, and little Pero wore a look of admiration that, for once, didn’t annoy me. I tried to get up, but Selene beat me to it. I was lifted without warning, letting out a small startled cry. I let go of his neck once my feet touched the ground.

"What a fight… how absolutely wonderful!" Beret exclaimed, delighted.

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by “wonderful” and looked to Fratera for clarification. He was about to reply, but the boat suddenly lurched. Selene quickly pressed a finger to his lips to signal everyone to be quiet. Pero went from awe to fear in an instant. I picked up my sword and wiped the blood from my wound. Selene moved to port, followed by Beret and Pero. Fratera stepped closer to me, and I stayed back with him. Selene leaned over the sea.

"We need to be quieter. Something just brushed against the hull," he murmured, fixing his eyes on Beret.

The message was clear. Beret mimed sewing his mouth shut, and while they kept a worried eye on the sea, I leaned slightly toward Fratera.

"You saw that?"

My voice was too low for anyone but him to hear. He nodded solemnly, his gaze locked on Selene.

"I thought he was going to kill you," he said. "But… I felt the same thing from you. What happened between you two?"

"I don’t know. I guess we realized we could be dangerous to each other. I was his prey and he was mine."

"How ironic for two hunters," Fratera said, trying to lighten the mood. "The hunters became the hunted."

Not wanting to make the situation worse, I smiled at him. It was my way of saying everything was fine, and I planned to reassure him in another way too. I walked up to Selene and tapped his shoulder. Even if he seemed less cheerful than usual, I still recognized him in the way he treated me—and that comforted me. I motioned for him to follow, and we stepped away toward the stern of the boat to sit down quietly.

I had taken one of the many small medical pouches we brought along for the journey. I pulled out a balm made from sauna sap. It was anticoagulant and regenerative, perfect for wounds. I spread some on my fingers and warmed it by rubbing them together under Selene’s attentive gaze.

"You fought well," I complimented. "You're the first man who’s ever managed to put me in such distress."

Once the balm was warm, I began massaging it onto his small wound. Under my fingers, his pulse beat slowly, and I was hypnotized by the tiny drum that echoed beneath his skin.

"This isn’t what I want, you know?"

I looked up at him, curious. His face was less gentle, less smiling. His features were serious—tense, even. He grabbed my wrist to stop my movements.

"I don’t want you to feel endangered when I’m around. That’s not why I’m here by your side. If you were ever to get into a certain kind of situation… it wouldn’t just be distress."

I raised my eyebrows, surprised, and he furrowed his. His fingers rubbed against mine, now slick with balm, and he spread what he’d gathered across my cheek. The balm’s scent drifted up my nose, and I wrinkled it under the cloying softness.

"You don’t understand what I’m trying to say, do you? Anela, you’re much slower than I thought. What I’m trying to say is—"

His gaze drifted behind us, and after checking I-don’t-know-what, he leaned in close to me. I froze when his teeth gently bit my lower lip. He pulled back, a teasing smile on his lips.

"I want to devour you. I like to think that relaxed meat tastes better than meat that senses danger before it’s savored."

And with those words, he stood and went to rejoin the others. As for me, I had to relearn how to breathe. I had unknowingly held my breath at both his words and his gesture. Was that… flirting? By Rodel! A violent flush of heat surged through me, setting my body aflame with shame, and I buried my head in my hands, smearing even more balm across my face—something I’d clean off later. My poor heart was pounding like mad! I never saw Selene that way!

He was… someone I admired. He was handsome, yes, but I didn’t feel any attraction toward all that! And now was certainly not the time to get caught up in some romance with no future! Determined to remind him of that, I stood, packed away the balm, and turned to go speak with him.

I walked over to where he was talking with Pero, but upon hearing their words, I stopped a few steps away to listen.

"Why don’t we sail beyond the mist?" Pero asked.

"Because we don’t know what’s out there. And the thicker the mist gets, the farther we drift from the coast. And the farther we drift from the coast, the more dangerous the sea monsters become."

She nodded, listening intently to Selene’s words.

"The sea is so black. I heard it was made of blood, but..."

"It is a Sea of Blood," he confirmed. "What you’re seeing is what happens when too much blood is spilled. So many lives lost, so much blood poured into the sea, that if you tried to swim in it, you’d be suffocated. This sea is syrupy and thick, suffocating and warm."

"Have you ever touched it?"

Curious, I took another step closer.

"Never, but some of mine have fallen into it."

"Your friends from Harshblood?"

Selene didn’t answer, but the way his voice dropped, more somber and miserable than usual, told me everything. Selene was kind. You could see it in the way he cared for Pero when we had ignored him. He comforted her and listened. Maybe warning him that matters of the heart had no place between him and me wasn’t so urgent after all. It could wait. Just like me, he seemed to have endured his share of sorrow, and I didn’t want to add to it.

Instead, I stepped back and went to sit on the opposite side of him. I, too, stared at the Sea of Blood. It was calm, as if we had only dreamed what lay beneath it; as if nothing could disturb it—not the currents, not the monsters. Only the occasional splash of the water—or rather, the blood—against the hull of the ship reminded us we were moving.

The Sea of Blood was, and remained, the greatest testament to the massacres in Blood. It existed so we would never forget that the tolling bell would one day ring for us as well.