Chapter 2

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The moon hung high above Blacktide Isle, casting a silver glow over the quiet streets of the inner city. Most of the island slept, but not Elara Seabrook. She slipped silently through the narrow alleyways, her heart pounding with the familiar rush of adrenaline.

Sneaking out of the mansion was easy—she'd been doing it since she was fourteen. She knew every creaking floorboard, every shadowed corner. Her parents rarely worried about her safety within Blacktide's walls. After all, her mother had built this island into the secure place it was now. But Jarah was always cautious, haunted by her own past, always warning Elara to be careful.

The memory of her mother's voice echoed in her mind: "Be careful, Elara. It only takes one wrong move."

But Elara wasn't afraid. She had no reason to be. She was the pirate princess. Let them try, she thought with a smirk. Let them try to take her. At least it would be something interesting.

She rounded a corner, the noise of the harbor fading behind her as she made her way toward the outer districts, where the city's heart truly beat. The inner city, with its clean streets and ordered shops, was safe, respectable. But the taverns on the outskirts—those were alive. Filled with sailors, merchants, the kind who had the best stories.

Tonight she had convinced her friend, Lilith Thornwell, to join her in this "dirty tavern" as she so often called it, though Elara loved those places.

Lilith was the only person on Blacktide Isle who truly understood Elara. They weren't like the other girls, the ones who clung to propriety and rules. Lilith, like Elara, lived for the thrill of the unknown, for the chase. Their friendship was more a pact of understanding, born from a shared hunger for excitement and a mutual respect for each other's sharpness.

The Drunken Siren loomed ahead, its wooden sign swaying gently in the sea breeze. It was her favorite spot. The place where she could feel the pulse of the island in a way she never could behind the mansion's gates. The tavern was rowdy and rough, the air thick with the scent of ale and smoke, but Elara loved it.

As she pushed open the heavy doors, a wave of noise hit her. Laughter, clinking tankards, and the low hum of conversation filled the room. Elara breathed it in, the chaos of the Drunken Siren wrapping around her like a familiar embrace.

She moved through the crowd with ease, her sharp blue eyes scanning the room until she spotted Lilith sitting at the bar, the firelight casting a golden glow over her flawless, porcelain skin. Her long black hair with its subtle red tint cascaded over her shoulders, contrasting against the deep red gown she wore—a gown that looked completely out of place in a dingy tavern but on Lilith, somehow made perfect sense. She was draped over her chair with an air of practiced ease, her dark eyes sparkling as she teased one of the sailors leaning in close.

As Elara approached the bar, Lilith caught her eye, her smirk widening as she gently pushed the sailor's shoulder, sending him stumbling back a step, clearly under her spell.

"You blend right in," Elara teased, slipping into the seat across from Lilith, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm.

Lilith rolled her eyes, but her smile remained in place as she casually dismissed the sailor with a wave. "Please, darling. Blending in is for people without style." She straightened in her seat, smoothing the fabric of her dress with a practiced elegance. "And I like to remind these sailors what they'll never have."

Elara laughed, shaking her head. "You know, you stand out like a ruby in a pile of rocks. Not exactly what I had in mind when I finally convinced you to come here."

Lilith smiled slyly, her gaze drifting over the patrons. "Honestly, though," she said, her voice lowering slightly, "how do you come here so often? This place is... filthy."

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