Vowed to Hades (Romancing the Seas #4)

4. Captain Stone

CAPTAIN STONE

C aptain Stone was stunned as the ships left the Tortuga port and headed to open sea.

How was this possible? His father was dead. And the Dutchess, the oldest ship in the Royal Navy, had been decommissioned years prior to the war. How was it back in service now?

H is gaze swept over the thin naval officers who populated the deck. Their uniforms hung loosely on their narrow frames, the fabric billowing as though having once belonged to men twice their size. Most were barely out of boyhood, their cheeks smooth and unmarked by time. The few attempts at sideburns were patchy at best, and their faces spoke more of inexperience than valor. They were a far cry from the seasoned sailors Stone was accustomed to commanding, and the sight filled him with gnawing unease .

Surrounding them was a fleet of aging doggers, small, stout ships that had once been the pride of the navy but now barely held together by willpower and patches of tar. Their sails were frayed, their hulls scarred from countless voyages.

These vessels, like the Duchess, had outlived their prime, yet they remained, stubbornly afloat, a testament to the kingdom's dwindling resources.

But it wasn’t the sight of the ship or the fleet that left Captain Stone reeling. It was the man standing before him—his father, King George. The king, whose death had been declared mere moments ago, now stood before him, defying the very nature of reality.

Stone’s breath caught in his throat, his mind struggling to reconcile the image before him with the news that had been delivered.

Prince Edward's hand shook as he reached out to touch him.

"Father?" he whispered as though he was not quite certain if he was really there or an apparition.

Meanwhile, Captain Stone was too stunned to speak.

King George did not say a word. Instead, a wrinkled hand swept through the air, pointing toward a weatherbeaten door, then he marched toward it. It was the first sign that the unrecognizable man before them was truly their father.

His sons exchanged glances before following the unspoken order .

The floorboards creaked beneath them as they entered a small cabin.

The room was small, barely large enough for the three men. A single oil lamp cast flickering shadows on the rough-hewn walls.

Captain Stone shut the door, and the dank air hung heavy as he looked around. A simple cot occupied one corner; its thin blanket neatly folded. Maps and charts were pinned haphazardly to the walls, their edges curling from the humidity.

It was difficult for Captain Stone to grasp the concept that this was his father’s quarters. He couldn’t fathom what drove his father away from the opulent life in the palace, to humble quarters in one of his oldest ships.

King George lowered himself onto a wooden chair that groaned under his weight. His fingers drummed on the surface of a scarred table.

Edward perched on the edge of the cot, while Captain Stone pulled out a stool from under the desk. A tense silence followed.

Captain Stone inhaled a sharp breath and exchanged another wary look with his brother.

A nerve bulged from Edward’s temple, and his nostrils flared. When it seemed he could not take the silence a moment longer, he cleared his throat.

"What's going on?" he demanded, his usually calm demeanor slipping. "We heard rumors that you were dead. And Uncle Richard has married Mother? Yet here you are. Dressed as a commoner, no less. And you sit there with not a word to explain yourself?”

A grim smile twisted George's lips, and his eyes glinted dangerously. “You forget your place, son. I owe you nothing.” His penetrative stare moved to Captain Stone and if looks could kill, he was certain he would turn to ash under his father’s stare.

“Need I remind you that you left me . Both of you. No note. No explanation. Your mother is bereft. In fact…” His gaze shifted from Captain Stone to land on Edward. “Until today, I assumed you were both dead. This war has been nothing short of a bloodbath, after all. While you two have been neglecting your royal duties, a lot has happened at Port Harbor.”

Captain Stone clenched his fists, a storm brewing in his chest. He wanted to argue, to tell his father that the reason he disappeared the way he did was because King George was a ruthless ruler first and hardly a forgiving father. Leaving the palace was considered treason, punishable by death.

So, when the rumors spread that Prince Mannington had died at sea, he took the opportunity to take on a new identity. Of a man who was truly free. In truth, Prince Mannington was dead. He was Captain Stone and would ever remain to be Stone.

But now was not the time to argue on such matters. His father had valuable insight.

“Then perhaps you shall like to enlighten us?” Captain Stone said through gritted teeth .

George's expression darkened. "The war against sirens has escalated, and pirates have taken over Port Harbor.”

“The pirates are under strict orders to leave Port Harbor…” Captain Stone began, his blood boiling.

Had he not made himself clear at the meeting with the Pirate Lords? How many more men must he cut down to earn their respect?

But he stopped. Shooting his father a reserved look, hoping he had not just given himself away as Pirate King.

If King George knew his son had turned to piracy, he would not hesitate to try something foolish. And Captain Stone was not in the mood to kill his own father. Even in self-defense.

Luckily, it seemed that George was too lost in his own worries to read too much into Captain Stone’s words.

“My navy is in ruin; I am down to my last ship. This pathetic thing. I’d lost all of the best men. And it became abundantly clear to me that I had to do something. But I could not simply leave the palace as you both did. The people wouldn’t allow it, and I am not so cold-hearted as to abandon them. So, I called upon my brother for a favor.”

He paused to cough and blinked at the floor, his features dark and tight. “He was supposed to step in for me by looking after your mother and taking over my official royal duties…”

Captain Stone hummed; skepticism flooded him.

Richard was his father’s identical twin, but his mannerisms could not be more different. George was refined and astute. Richard on the other hand, was brutish and loud.

“But the rumors…” Edward began, but he stopped when George’s eyes snapped in his direction.

“Initially, he agreed. But Richard betrayed me. He tried to murder me in my sleep, I had to fake my death to get away. Then he took the throne and married your mother."

“But why tell the people you died? Why didn’t he just pretend to be you?” Edward asked.

George’s face twisted into an awkward smile that did not reach his eyes. “I should have known better than to expect him to help. Richard is a self-centered man. He never quite got over the fact the crown went to me because I happened to be born first.”

Rage burned through Captain Stone. He curled his fingers over the handle of his knife. "We need to go back and fight! We can't let him get away with this. Poor Mother, does she think you are dead? When I get my hands on…”

King George raised a hand, silencing him. "All in good time. Your mother is safe for now. Yes, Richard is a threat, and he will get what’s coming to him, but we must be strategic."

Edward's eyes narrowed. "So, what's the plan?"

George leaned forward, his voice a low murmur. "You may not believe me if I told you."

Captain Stone met Edward’s amused smirk. If only their father knew of the adventures they had been on and what magical and unbelievable things they had seen.

"Try us," they said in unison.

George exhaled long and slow as he leaned back in his chair. The wood creaked, and he crossed one leg over the other. “I had a dream. Nay, I prefer to call it a vision.”

Captain Stone closely studied his father’s features. He would often refer to visionary men as delusional. He preferred logic and reason, leaning on numbers and what he could see. Yet, here he was, telling his sons that he had devised a plan to get the crown back from a dream.

Despite his disbelief, Captain Stone kept his expression neutral and waited for more.

King George interlocked his fingers and rested his hands on his chest. “Have you heard of the goddess Isis?”

The question had both Edward and Captain Stone sit up straight. Edward rubbed the back of his neck. “…You could say that.”

George nodded. “She came to me in a vision. At first, I assumed I was simply dreaming. But she shook me until my whole body trembled, and I fell to my knees. Her ferocity was undeniable. I am most certain it was real. She visited me.”

“What did she want?” Captain Stone asked. “Did she command you to stop hunting sirens?”

George’s nostrils flared, and a dash of anger flashed across his piercing eyes. “She wanted to make a deal. If I do something for her, she will grant me the power to overthrow my wicked brother, take back my throne, and end the war victorious.”

Edward scoffed. “Surely, you did not believe...”

He stopped when George’s jaw bulged as he looked in his direction. It was clear to both brothers that their father did, in fact, believe Isis.

Captain Stone held his tongue, though it took great restraint. He knew Isis.

How manipulative she was. And dangerous.

And it was difficult for him to see just how desperate his father was, to fall for the charm of the goddess.

“What does she want you to do?” Edward voiced the question on Captain Stone’s mind.

George’s mouth tipped up into a genuine smile this time. “She told me to come to Tortuga. To this god-forsaken place, where I would find my sons… Together.”

Captain Stone’s brows lifted.

If the vision was nothing more than a dream, then how could their father have known where to find them? And the brothers had been estranged for over a decade, there was no way he could have known that they had put aside their differences and joined forces. Thus, it would have been foolhardy to believe that Prince Edward and Captain Stone would be seen anywhere together.

“Is that all she said?” He raked a hand through his hair, puzzled.

King George let out a low rumbling laugh, breaking Captain Stone out of his tangled thoughts. “ No, that is not all. You see, Isis explained to me that I needed to find my sons and take them to King Arthur’s tomb.”

Captain Stone frowned and tilted his head, but before he or Edward could speak, King George rose to his feet and rested a hand on his shoulder, the other hand on Edward’s. “She told me of your quest…to gather the bones of Osiris. Some of his remains are buried with King Arthur’s.”

Captain Stone stiffened and caught Edward’s wary look. He did not need to read his mind to know he was wondering the same thing.

Just what was Isis thinking, getting their father involved in their secret mission? They had Ava’s map, there was no need for their father’s assistance in finding the bones.

Isis knew that.

A tidal wave of questions washed over Captain Stone, but their time ran short.

The ship groaned, a deep, ominous sound that sent vibrations through the floorboards, nearly knocking Captain Stone off his stool. He caught himself on the desk, his gaze locking with Edward’s. No words passed between them, but the tension in the air crackled like a distant storm.

Captain Stone’s hand instinctively moved to the smooth blade of the golden ax in the holster on his back. His senses sharpened as the ship lurched again, this time more violently.

The sudden movement made Robert, his pet viper, hiss before it sank its fangs into Captain Stone’s shoulder. A surge of strength coursed through him as the venom mingled with his blood.

Horrified shouts flooded the air, and a sense of dread filled Captain Stone.

The three men bolted toward the deck, their boots pounding against the wooden planks.

The air, thick with the smell of salt and damp wood, buzzed with a strange energy. Young men crowded around the starboard side, their faces pale and strained, whispering in low, fearful tones.

Captain Stone shoved his way through, his heart pounding against his ribcage. The murmurs of the crew faded as he reached the edge and peered into the dark, churning waters below. His breath hitched.

There, wedged against jagged rocks, lay the remains of a ship, its once-proud masts splintered like brittle bones. Tattered sails hung lifeless, swaying eerily in the breeze, as if the ship itself were a ghost haunting the shore.

“What happened here?” King George's voice was low, but the command was clear, slicing through the fearful murmurs.

A grizzled sailor stepped forward, his hands trembling as he pointed toward the wreckage. “Shipwreck, Your Highness, two more. Dead ahead.”

Stone’s eyes narrowed, the unease in his gut twisting tighter. He scanned the wreck beside them, his gaze catching on the bodies bobbing amid the debris. Their limbs were twisted at unnatural angles, their faces frozen in expressions of terror .

“The sirens,” someone whispered, the words laced with dread. “It must have been them.”

“No.” Edward’s voice was cold, cutting through the speculation. He stepped closer, his eyes dark and assessing as they roved over the scene. “This massacre was not done by sirens.”

King George’s head snapped toward Edward.

“How can you be so sure?” There was aggression in the tone of his voice, his words came out like a growl.

But Edward remained resolute. He pointed to the bodies floating in the water.

“Look at their wounds,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion.

King George and Captain Stone looked at the elegant spears sticking from the bodies. They glinted in the weak moonlight. “Those are steel blades. Sirens cannot wield them without suffering burns.”

Captain Stone’s eyes followed Edward’s gesture, and his stomach twisted at the sight. The wounds were too precise, too clean, the edges sharp as if sliced by a blade crafted for death, not the wild, chaotic fury of the sea. A weapon not of the ocean’s making but forged by man’s hand.

“Pirates?” King George ventured, though doubt laced his tone, as if he knew the answer before asking.

Captain Stone shook his head, unease settling into his bones like a cold, unshakable weight. “No,” he muttered, more to himself than the others. “Pirates use guns and knives. Not fine weapons that look like they belong in a museum rather than on the battlefield. These weapons are foreign and expensive.”

“These men are only fishermen. Who would do this?” George muttered.

Without waiting for further speculation, Captain Stone motioned to Edward, and the two brothers descended into the wreckage. As their boots met with the deck, the air was thick with the stench of death and decay. The water sloshed around them as they moved through the ruined hull.

Captain Stone’s eyes darted from one shattered piece of wood to the next, searching for any sign, any clue that might explain the horror that had unfolded here.

Then, a flash of light caught his eye in the murky water. Bending down, he reached into the sludge and pulled out a knife. Its blade was small and silver, yet sharp enough to kill. But it was the symbol carved into its hilt that piqued his curiosity. Two snakes were twisted to form an S.

It was an unfamiliar mark, but an ominous feeling swept over him as he studied it.

“I don’t recognize this emblem.” He held the knife up to King George and Prince Edward.

King George’s reaction was immediate. His eyes widened, and he reached out to take the knife from Captain Stone’s hand, his fingers trembling as they closed around the hilt. His lips parted in a silent “o,” the color draining from his face as he studied the symbol more closely .

“Why in heaven’s name…” King George’s voice remained barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words aloud might summon something terrible.

“What is it?” Edward’s patience was fraying, his usual calm replaced by an edge of desperation.

King George hesitated. When he finally spoke, his voice was laced with an uncharacteristic fear. “This symbol… I’ve never seen it with my own eyes before. I’ve seen it only in books. It’s the mark of a Norse god.”

Stone’s brow furrowed. “Norse?”

George nodded slowly; his gaze fixed on the knife as if it held all the answers he dreaded to hear.

“A year ago, I didn’t even believe in any of this. Vengeful sirens… an Egyptian goddess looking to resurrect her lover. They sound like nothing more than stories. But now here we are. And if the sirens are real. And Isis is also real. Then it is not a stretch of the imagination to believe that this one is too.” He held up the knife with a trembling hand.

The sight of his father had Captain Stone’s stomach knotting.

King George feared no enemy. But it was abundantly clear that the marking of two snakes twisted into the shape of an S had him terrified.

Which in turn, filled Captain Stone with dread. “Who are we dealing with here?”

When King George did not respond, Captain Stone walked to him, lifting his hands to grab him by the shoulders and force the answer out of him. But something crunched under his boot. He paused and reached down.

His fingers wrapped around a cracked brass brooch. When he flipped it over in his palm, he hummed.

“Is that a scorpion?” Prince Edward stooped down to take a closer look.

King George jolted out of his worried daze and snatched the brooch from Captain Stone. Then he murmured to himself with such speed the words tumbled out of him jumbled.

“Father. What is it? What do you know?” Captain Stone demanded.

King George paced, wiping sweat from his brow and puffed like a stressed dog. Then he finally stopped to look at his sons. “We must make haste to King Arthur’s tomb. There’s a war brewing that is much bigger than us, pirates, or sirens.”

Captain Stone crossed his arms. “We’re already aware of that.” He kept his voice calm. But as he recalled the warning from Zeus, his stomach flipped nervously. "Listen, Father, you’re not the only one who has had dealings with the gods. Zeus himself warned us that helping Isis resurrect Osiris could awaken the Titans, bringing about the end of the world as we know it."

Prince Edward nodded; his face grim. "The Titans are forces of unimaginable destruction. If they wake, there’s no telling what kind of chaos they’ll unleash. But if we do not help Isis, she’s vowed to burn the world down herself. "

King George’s face paled further, his eyes darting between his sons as though he tried to process the gravity of what they were saying. The weight of it all seemed to crush him, his shoulders slumping as he let out a shaky breath. “Nevertheless, we shall have to choose a side.”

Captain Stone stared at his father, noting the tremor in the old man’s hands as he held the knife with the Norse symbol. “And I do firmly believe…” King George continued, his voice growing firmer as he straightened his spine. “… In picking the side that is going to win.”