A hundred more feet, Vesta thought to herself, hidden among the shadows. Her hood covered her face as she dodged the moonlight. Her chest heaved with worry, and her muscles tensed to focus on every step. Carefully, she avoided the squeaks of scattering rats, interrupted in their search for scraps.

She could teleport with magic, but it was risky. If Lucian sent soldiers, they would trace the spell.

A sound behind stopped her cold. “OVER HERE! I glimpsed the wench!” boomed a voice. Clanking armor thundered a warning.

She pressed against the wall and peeked around the corner, body shaking.

The Hell Guard. Shit! Her hazel eyes scanned the gloomy courtyard for an exit. To her right, a solid wall came into view: the entrance to Fae Alley. Using magic to escape presented too much peril. Not with the Hell Guard searching. She could retrace the path she’d taken, but the moon climbed higher. She was running out of time.

The bells chimed the eleventh hour. She heard more voices rise from the center square behind her. The guard must’ve disturbed the wrong people’s rest. Good; she could make use of their distraction. There! Across the courtyard. Hold on.

She sped through the gloom, moving like a phantom hunting souls in the darkness. Tension thickened the air, and the fog rolled in. She reached the meeting place and mouthed thanks to the gods. Comforted by the relative safety, she settled down and waited for her companion to join her.

By the luck of Felicitas, I will succeed. Dear Goddess Libertas, please grant me my freedom. Vesta drew her night-black cloak around her. She couldn’t wait to claim her true self when her boots touched the deck of the ship she hoped to secure. Ocean waves crashed against the nearby docks, and the smell of fish and salty air soothed her weariness. She could feel the pull towards what promised to be her freedom.

The lashes on her back stung where the sweat-soaked shirt stuck and reminded her of the life she’d just escaped. Her cruel master, Lucian, was a strict and horrible man. Most called him The Devil or Lord of All Hell. Such accusations would offend many men, but Lucian embraced them. He even called his manor house Domus Infernalis.

Lucian was an imposing man to anyone who’d come up against him. His dark eyes felt like black pools of death each time she felt their gaze. The low candlelight amplified his chiseled features so much that it sent chills down her spine and settled on her tongue with the bitter taste of iron. Rumors swirled around the city that Lucian was hundreds of years old and never ventured out in daylight. His hair often shamed the night as the strands framed his moonlit face.

He held exactly thirteen girls in the house, all named in the theme of hellfire. They were called The Seraphina, his angels of fire and desire. Everyone knew the women hadn’t come willingly. Paying men would often line up for The Seraphina’s specific talents.

Vesta sighed as she tried to soothe her burning back against the wall behind her. The healing balm Mother Aurelia had applied to her lashes wore off long ago. Cool bricks against her aching skin felt almost like relief.

She dug out her pouch and counted the coins. It might be enough to live on. It would have to do for now.

The bell chimed twelve, and she heard distant orders from the guard to empty the town square. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Her stomach knotted, and her spine locked. Her watch flicked between entry points to the alleyway.

A stray cat hissed somewhere to her left and startled her. She reached for the hidden dagger in her boot.

“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice strong, and her body coiled tight as a cobra waiting to strike.

A dark figure approached. Vesta palmed her dagger, ready to defend herself. Anyone could be working for Lucian. She could trust no one.

“Friend or foe?” The flash of a sword blade and a pair of black-dyed trousers gave little away. The person’s hood blocked his face just enough.

“Definitely a friend.” His rough voice signaled recognition to Vesta’s brain, but she held firm, in case someone was using magic to replicate her companion’s voice.

Her fingers gripped the handle of her dagger hard enough to whiten her knuckles. “Tell me a secret of yours only I know,” she demanded.

“I wet my trousers during my first year as a cabin boy,” the figure replied. He dropped his hood to reveal a small smirk.

Only then did Vesta put away her dagger and approach. “Cassian!” She hugged him so close that she felt his sword brush against her leg. Salt and spice hit her nose as his solid presence called to mind safety and home. The fallen hood revealed a series of braids she’d never seen woven through his brown hair before. His olive skin glowed with the deep tan it only achieved at summer’s end aboard the ship, despite the season. But the emerald flecks in his eyes danced with their customary calm intellect, laced with a mischief only she appreciated.

“Let’s go; we don’t have long.” Worry laced his words. “The ship leaves in an hour, and the dockmaster will stop us if he suspects what you’re escaping.” He pulled her toward the dock. “The Hell Guards have left, thanks to the false information I spread, but I don’t know how much time I bought us.” With a backward glance toward the square, he flipped his hood up, and she followed suit.

Together they walked toward the pier, desperate not to draw attention to themselves. They moved in sync despite the years apart. Cassian approached the dockmaster, paid him a silver coin, then beckoned her closer.

“We’re safe to go to the ship,” Cassian informed her, his hand on her back. She let out an involuntary hiss as his rough fingers touched the still-healing scars.

Cassian recoiled with a murderous grimace. “Lucian!” It wasn’t a question. He muttered to himself, “By Mars, one day Lucian will pay for his sins! May Pluto prepare the underworld to receive his unholy soul.”

Vesta refused to acknowledge the vow. Cassian swore this oath every chance he got. He understood her life.

“Let’s just get to the ship,” she said instead. “We can’t linger.”

They spied a vast ship with dark cherry planks and gold accents, nestled regally against the dock. Emblazoned on the ship was the apt name Neptune’s Revenge. Vesta allowed herself a smile. Hope bloomed in her like a flower reaching for the sun.

Cassian greeted a man dressed head-to-toe in black and red. “Captain Aquilla.”

His black boots shone against his scarlet waistcoat, while a ruby-encrusted sword hilt sparkled on his hip. His hat held a parrot feather from a species Vesta did not recognize. She briefly wondered at how far he’d traveled in awe.

“Cassian. Who’d you bring with ye, boy?” Captain Aquilla led them up the plank to the deck. Men scrambled about; preparations to cast off were underway.

“She’s the one I told you about,” Cassian whispered.

Vesta stayed quiet, anxious to hear his response. She’d read letters from Cassian about Captain Aquilla. The man was kind but kept a tight ship.

Captain Aquilla nodded. “She stays in your cabin, and I expect you’ll be training her.”

Cassian put his arm around her waist and squeezed her tightly, mindful of her back, but afraid to let go.

“Aye, Sir.” Cassian obviously knew the dismissal when he heard it. He pulled her with him to the first mate’s cabin. She rushed into the decent-sized room as the crew shouted and repeated orders.

“Lock the door until you feel the ship move into open waters. We’re not safe from Lucian’s men in the harbor. I have to attend to my duties.” With that, Cassian disappeared.

She locked the door and took off her cloak. Her sunset-colored braids tumbled like ropes off the side of a ship.

Taking the signs of her enslavement out of her hair felt like a burden had been lifted. Once she unwound all the elaborate braids, she shook out her hair, feeling it cascade down her back for the first time since she was a small girl.

“I am Marina.” She said it out loud to remind herself she had chosen her fate. Then, aware of the practicality of loose hair on a ship, she quickly tied it into a thicker, single braid.

Now there was nothing to do but wait for open water. She sat on the soft bed. It was wide enough for the two of them to share. Anything was better than the usual straw mat she’d slept on most nights. A chest of drawers stood on the opposite wall, and a lantern hung from the ceiling. It swayed with the motion of the rolling ship as they moved away from the dock.

Thankfully, it was not long before Cassian returned. “We’re dining with the captain tonight. He wants to meet you properly. Now come with me.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the upper deck. “We could use your hands.”

The wind hit her, and she breathed the air deep into her lungs as blood rushed through her veins. Her heart pounded, not in fear but anticipation, as Cassian directed her to help adjust the sails. It was hard work, but Marina laughed with joy as she worked in tandem with another sailor.

Marina nodded and smiled. “I’m finally free,” she whispered as if she dared to believe it.

Cassian nodded. “By the gods’ favor, yes.” He gave a smile that made women across many ports swoon, only to find they could not keep his heart.

Below the deck, the ship’s cook rang the dinner bell.

“We can’t keep Captain waiting.” Cassian led her toward the galley. Marina’s stomach swam with nerves, but she trusted Cassian with her life.