Edge Of The Night

Damn Lior. I haven’t changed… or have I?

Aria’s chest heaved as she planted her boots on the slick cobblestones, knuckles white around the mug of beer she hadn’t even realized she was still clutching. The night gnawed at her skin, sharp and biting, salty like a storm-tossed sea with teeth ready to tear. Her hair clung to her damp cheeks, every nerve alive and jittery, like a hundred cutlasses dancing at her back.

Her mind drifted to Kael. He still doesn’t remember… who he is. And I’m first mate. Darius is counting on me. Can’t afford mistakes… can’t let these damn feelings steer me off course. Not now. Not ever. A pirate’s duty comes first — always.

She took a long pull from the mug. The beer was bitter, cold, grounding — a tether to the moment, to herself. Edges of the night sharpened, and for now, her thoughts stayed rigid, focused.

From the shadows near the tavern entrance, a figure emerged. Kael stepped onto the cobblestones, his coat flapping slightly in the breeze, one hand running through his damp hair as he exhaled slowly. His eyes scanned the horizon before settling fully on her. Even from a distance, he carried a presence that cut through the night, calm and commanding, dangerous in its serenity.

He glanced back at the tavern, where the noise spilled into the street, raucous and chaotic. “Needed a bit of air,” he murmured, more to himself than her, his voice low, almost swallowed by the night. Then his gaze snapped back to Aria, steady, intense. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

Aria stiffened, tightening her grip around the mug. “I can handle myself,” she said, her voice steadier than her heart felt.

Kael moved closer, leaning slightly against the railing, eyes still following the dark line of the horizon. “You handled that well,” he said quietly, tone carrying both approval and challenge.

Aria let out a short, humorless laugh. “You call dragging a drunken fool into the street handling it well?”

“Better than letting him stab someone,” Kael said evenly. “Or get himself killed trying.”

She shot him a sharp look. “You talk like you’ve seen that before.”

He didn’t answer, and the silence that followed felt heavy, loaded.

She muttered, “Lior’s a good man… most days. But he’s letting pride blind him. That’s dangerous on a ship.”

Aria ran a hand through her hair, muttering under her breath, “I need another drink.”

“You need water,” Kael corrected, dry but calm.

“Rum is water,” she shot back with mock seriousness, spinning toward the bar. The barkeep raised an eyebrow but slid a bottle toward her without a word. This time, she reached for the rum, letting its warmth seep into her chest. The beer had steadied her; the rum loosened her — thoughts curling like smoke, edges of the night softening just enough to blur the rigid lines of duty.

She took a swig, letting the warmth of the rum creep through her chest. The world softened, edges blurring just enough. Another gulp, and the rigid lines of duty wavered slightly — she could almost feel the pull of mischief, and something more dangerous, teasing at her mind.

“Tell me something, sailor,” she said, tipping back another swallow. “Where’d you learn to move like that? Not from fishing, I’ll bet.”

Kael hesitated, the pause stretching long enough for her to notice. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “It’s like… muscle memory. My mind forgets, but my body remembers.”

Aria tilted her head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Convenient.”

He looked at her, and for a heartbeat she thought he might actually smile — real, unguarded, not the half-smirk he wore to hide thoughts. The rum loosened her tongue and her guard just enough to notice it.

Then the tavern door creaked again. Laughter spilled into the night, and with it, a girl in a low-cut red bodice, her painted smile practiced and deliberate. She sauntered toward Kael, hips swaying as though she’d done it a thousand times.

“Well, well,” she purred. “A face I haven’t seen before. You lost, handsome?”

Kael straightened instinctively, unsure how to respond as her finger trailed along his sleeve. “Just passing through,” he said curtly.

Aria’s grip on the bottle tightened, the rum burning warm in her chest.

The girl chuckled, undeterred. “Passing through, eh? Shame. I could show you a good time, make it worth your stay.”

Kael opened his mouth, but before a single word left him, Aria was already moving.

She crossed the space in three deliberate strides, boots striking the cobblestones hard. The girl barely had time to blink before Aria tightened her grip on the bottle, not to swing it — it was half full and sloshed threateningly at every twitch — but to brandish it, the rim catching the lanternlight like a slow promise. Her eyes burned with dangerous intensity, sharp enough to cut rope, and every inch of her posture screamed: back off, or regret it. The warmth of the rum made her steady, even as her pulse thudded fast.

“He’s taken,” Aria said, voice calm but edged with steel.

The girl blinked, tilting her head. “Oh? Didn’t realize pirates did exclusive.”

“Only when it comes to trouble,” Aria said, eyes locked on her. “And you, sweetheart, look like trouble.”

The girl’s smirk faltered. She shot Kael one last glance, then shrugged, retreating with a muttered, “Suit yourself, Captain.”

Kael raised an eyebrow. “Captain, huh?”

Aria tipped the bottle to her lips for another sip. The warmth spread lazily through her, loosening the tight knot of nerves she hadn’t realized she was holding. “She’s lucky I didn’t toss her into the sea.”

He studied her carefully. “You seem… invested.”

Her jaw tightened, cheeks warming from rum and cold alike. “Just making sure the crew doesn’t get distracted.”

Kael’s mouth curved slightly. “From what?”

“You’re enjoying this,” she accused, voice low.

“Maybe a little,” he admitted.

Her shove was quick, sharp — enough to make him stumble back half a step. “Careful,” she warned, bottle neck pointed at him. “I still outrank you.”

He smirked faintly. “So you keep reminding me.”

Her words came out in a laugh instead of a retort. “Damn you, Kael.”

“Already there, Captain,” he said smoothly.

Aria looked up at the stars — or where she thought the stars were; the world wobbled just a little under the gentle haze of rum. “The sky’s spinning.”

“That’s the rum,” Kael said quietly, almost teasing.

“You shouldn’t let it control you,” he whispered.

“And you shouldn’t try to control everything,” she countered softly.

“I told you,” she said solemnly, “rum is water.”

He shook his head, stepping closer. “Then you’re drowning in it.”

She leaned on the well, smirking. “Maybe I like drowning.”

“You’re too serious,” she whispered. “Too calm for someone who fell from the sea.”

“Maybe I have to be,” he murmured.

Her smile curved, slow and mischievous. “Maybe I want to see what it takes to make you lose that calm.”

He met her gaze — steady, unreadable. “You don’t,” he said softly.

For a long moment, all they heard was the wind and waves. Then, without warning, Aria stepped closer, the scent of rum and salt wrapping around them. Her hand brushed against the fabric of his shirt — testing, daring.

Kael froze. Every instinct screamed to step back, to break the tension, to avoid the fragile line between them. But her touch was soft, almost hesitant, and the warmth of the rum had her leaning in just a little more than she normally would.

Her grin widened, daring, sharp. “You sure?”

Kael hesitated — just a heartbeat — before stepping closer, close enough to smell the salt in her hair, the faint sweetness of rum on her breath.

The night around them seemed to hold its breath.