𝐁𝛐𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 | Nikolai Lantsov

13 | 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚

𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls of Nikolai’s cabin as I stood outside his door, my heart racing like a ship caught in a tempest. The coast of Ketterdam always seemed to pulse with life, but right now, my world had narrowed to the space between this door and the answers I desperately needed. Last night had shattered the fragile framework of what I thought I understood about Nikolai Lantsov.

Taking a steadying breath, I knocked three times. The door creaked open, revealing a disheveled Nikolai with tousled blond hair and ocean blue eyes that twinkled even under the weight of exhaustion. He looked more like a prince than ever, but today, that prince was drowning in shadows. He wore a navy sweater that hugged his frame, emphasizing the sharp lines of his jaw. "We need to talk," I stated, attempting to sound more composed than I felt.

“Do we?” he replied, arching an eyebrow but stepping to the side, inviting me to enter. I hesitated for just a moment, partly captivated by his charm, but mostly frustrated by the wall he’d erected between us. As I crossed the threshold, the door clicked shut behind me, sealing our fates for this moment.

“Why?” I demanded, eyes narrowing. “Why did you say it was a mistake?” The words escaped my lips before I could reign them in, punctuated by the tension crackling in the air.

“Say what?” he questioned, though the faint flush creeping to his cheeks gave him away.

“That it was a mistake!” I pressed, my voice rising. My frustration was bubbling over, and if he thought I would back down, he didn’t know me at all. He turned away to pour himself a drink, the movement carefully casual, as if he were not wielding every ounce of control to hide how much he was unraveling inside.

“I was just—” he began, faltering slightly. He turned to face me, and I could see the struggle lying behind those captivating blue eyes. “I was trying to be responsible. I—”

“Responsible?” I interrupted, incredulous. “You mean treating me as if we didn’t almost share something real?” The accusation hung between us, thick as the fog that often rolled in from the sea.

He placed down the glass as if it were made of glass, its weight suddenly burdensome. “You don’t understand, Amora. I’m not who you think I am. I have responsibilities—”

“Maybe I don’t care about your responsibilities!” I spat, my passion fuelling my defiance. “I’m tired of you hiding behind that prince façade and throwing away genuine moments. Just admit you felt something!”

Something crackled in the air around us, thick enough to touch, and for a fleeting second, I dared to think I saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

“I can’t!" he said, voice low. “This isn’t a game for me. It's deadly.”

“Why do you think I’m afraid of danger?” I called back, crossing my arms. “I was raised in the streets of Ketterdam; I thrive in it.” My heart was pounding louder than the drums of a distant ship deck, and the adrenaline shot through my veins.

Finally, I saw his resolve crack. He took a breath, regarding me with a piercing intensity. “You deserve more than a privateer,” he said softly, almost regretfully. “You deserve someone who isn’t hiding a secret life.”

“That’s your excuse?” I shot back, my voice tinged with disbelief. “You think I’m too naive to handle you?”

“In some ways, yes.” Coldness crept into his tone as he resumed pouring the drink, but the sharpness of his words didn’t deter me.

“Then you're gravely mistaken.” With each step forward, I felt emboldened. “If you want to push me away, fine, but you should know I don’t scare easily. I know how to handle trouble—”

“And what if that trouble becomes dangerous enough to devour you whole?” he posed, concern threading through his urgency.

I opened my mouth, prepared to deliver a witty retort, but the image that flashed before me was of the sea, tumultuous and wild, and I could see shadowy figures lurking beneath the surface. “Maybe I need someone who can dance with danger, someone who knows how to navigate its depths,” I finally said.

“Amora…” His voice softened, but not enough to reach me beyond the turbulence of my emotions. “I’m a prince hiding amongst thieves. I don’t belong in your world. I don’t belong with you.”

“I don’t care where you belong,” I challenged, gripping the edge of his desk. “I care about who you are when you’re with me.”

He let out a rough, frustrated breath, the words dancing on the tip of his tongue, struggling for freedom. And before he could form yet another excuse, a loud rapping came from the door.

“Amora!” came Toyla’s voice, always cheerful, always light. “Are you in there? We have a job to plan!”

“Damn it,” Nikolai muttered under his breath.

“Stop being dramatic, Lantsov!” I said, grinning despite the tension still shackling us. “I’m not afraid of danger. In fact, I’m ready for it.”

Nikolai shot a glance toward the door, then back at me, a mixture of frustration and admiration swirling in his gaze. “You have a fire in you, girl,” he acknowledged. “Just… be careful where you decide to ignite it.”

I felt something shift in the air, a tentative bridge forming between us, yet always just out of reach. As I turned toward the door, ready to embrace whatever adventure awaited us outside, I knew this tension wouldn’t be easily resolved. But maybe, just maybe, stories worth telling often began on the precipice of chaos—where adventure called, and a mix of hidden hearts intertwined and battled against the tides.

And so, heart ready for the storm, I opened the door to a world of uncertainty, glancing back once more at Nikolai, the disguised prince. In that fleeting moment, I believed there was more than one story waiting to unfold.

⎯⎯ ୨•୧ ⎯⎯