Elara Seabrook: Heir of Blacktide Isle

Chapter 3

The soft morning light filtered through the tall windows of the Seabrook library, casting a warm glow on the shelves lined with leather-bound books. The room was quiet, save for the occasional scratch of quill on parchment as Elara pretended to focus on the equations in front of her. She sat at the long mahogany table, eyes drifting to the window, though her mind was far from the numbers on the page.

Elias's voice echoed in her thoughts impossible to ignore. The Ghost Isles. A treasure hidden in plain sight, waiting to be found. Elias had seemed so sure, so steady. It was enough to make her wonder if he truly knew something everyone else had overlooked.

Beside her, Lilith sat slouched in her chair, looking utterly miserable. Her long black hair was tied back hastily, and dark circles clung to her eyes as she squinted at the numbers in front of her. The deep forest green dress she wore was wrinkled.

Elara smirked. "You look like death," she whispered.

Lilith shot her a half-hearted glare, though it lacked her usual sharpness. "I feel like it," she muttered, wincing as she rubbed her temples. "How do you manage to look so... chipper? I think I drank half the tavern last night."

"I didn't stay out as late as you did," Elara replied with a grin. She was amused by Lilith's condition, though she had to admit she was distracted by far more pressing things than a hangover.

Their tutor, a stern, older man with a penchant for rambling, was droning on about mathematical theory, but it was clear neither girl was listening. Lilith hadn't written a single thing down, and Elara's notes had long since veered off course.

"I'll be right back, girls," the tutor said abruptly, shuffling out of the room to fetch some papers he had left behind.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Lilith let out a dramatic groan, slumping forward on the table. "I am never drinking that much again."

Elara laughed softly. "You say that every time."

"This time I mean it," Lilith grumbled, her face buried in her arms.

Elara leaned back in her chair, her mind still half on the Ghost Isles. She glanced at Lilith, wondering how much she should share, but kept her thoughts to herself for now. "What happened after I left the tavern? You looked pretty occupied."

Lilith lifted her head slightly, one eye peeking out from behind her hand. "Occupied? Please. I was having the time of my life. That sailor—what was his name? Something rugged and forgettable—he couldn't stop talking about how he was going to 'conquer the seas.'" She rolled her eyes. "As if I care."

"Yet you stayed with him," Elara teased.

Lilith sighed dramatically. "It was better than sitting alone. Besides, it's entertaining watching them try so hard."

Elara smirked. "You do have a way of making them think they have a chance."

"Of course I do. That's half the fun."

They shared a quiet laugh, though Elara's mind quickly drifted back to Elias and what he had told her. Lilith was still groaning about her hangover, but Elara couldn't focus on the small talk. The Ghost Isles were dangerous—everyone knew that. And yet Elias had hinted that something there would be of great interest to her father. What could it be? She needed answers, but her father wouldn't return for another few days and the waiting made her even more impatient.

"Speaking of boys to flirt with," Lilith whispered, her voice still hoarse, "I heard Nicolas Greystone—you know, the insufferable one—is bringing his cousin to the ball next week."

Elara raised an eyebrow, intrigued but also wary. "His cousin?"

Lilith nodded, a sly grin creeping across her face. "Yeah, he's from... what's it called... Donkervaart?" She pronounced the name slowly, clearly unsure. "It's somewhere east of Blacktide I think."