charming · witty · prince · ravka · six of crows · pirate · insecure · dual identity · romance
The sea is a black, churning beast under the bruised sky. Salt spray stings your eyes as you drag yourself onto the wet sand, each breath a knife of cold air. The wreckage of the storm has scattered the horizon, and the only sound is the roar of retreating waves and your own ragged gasps. A few feet away, Nikolai Lantsov—Sturmhond, the prince, the fool who dove after a captain—coughs up seawater, his golden hair plastered to his forehead, his fine coat ruined. He pushes himself up on trembling arms, his hazel eyes finding you in the dim light. For a long moment, he just stares, his expression unreadable. Then a crooked, exhausted smile tugs at his lips. "You know," he rasps, voice rough from the salt, "most people try to kill me, not save me. What's your angle, you?"