eye to his questionable past. His assignment was to escort a store of gems from the rich mineral deposits found in the mountains of The Last Promontory, transporting them by sea to the eastern lands, where the stones would be refined. He liked the ocean at once, the life of sea crossings and sword clashes with pirates. Not to mention the effect it had on women. Though he wasn’t a sailor, he had a lover at every port. For an entire year, he roamed the seas without losing a battle. Until he met his nemesis.
One morning, Rool and his men attacked Benares’s army ship. Benares battled one crewman after another, routing them easily, until he came to Aires. Astonished by her beauty, he committed the most fatal of sins: gallantry.
“I don’t draw my sword against women,” he said with a practiced tone, “only my heart.”
In response, Aires slashed his uniform to pieces with a few flicks of her sword and lunged at him mercilessly. Benares was forced to unsheathe his weapon. After a violent duel, he soon found himself face-to-face with death, the blade of her sword pinned to his throat.
Aires took a long look at him, breathing heavily with fatigue, and slid her sword back in its sheath. “You’re too handsome to kill,” she said coolly, then turned her back and reboarded her ship in a flash. Benares watched as the red sails disappeared into the distance, knowing his destiny was aboard that ship.
He left the army and joined a band of pirates. Bold and reckless as he was, he built a reputation in no time. His name was heard in the taverns where the buccaneers gathered, and his fame as a great swordsman took hold rapidly.
Aires had always loved a challenge. There were times she’d even convinced her father to attack a ship already seized by other pirates, just for the thrill of proving herself in battle. Which is exactly what happened in the case of Benares—after months of cat and mouse, they found themselves face-to-face once again, on the deck of a galleon they’d both boarded.
It was a bizarre duel. Between jabs and blocks, he proclaimed his love for her, employing all the methods of seduction he’d picked up in his travels. She countered with her wit, sharper than her sword, and made a fool of him and his romantic declarations. Words failed her, though, when she found herself with her back against the wall. It was the first time she’d been beaten by a man in battle.
“Tell me you love me and I’ll let you live,” Benares whispered, his face nearly pressed to hers.
“I’d rather you slit my throat,” she shot back defiantly.
“As you wish,” said Benares, smiling. “But only after this.”
He pulled her head close and kissed her passionately. Aires, surprising even herself, kissed him back with equal fury.
From then on they belonged to one another. If they had found themselves competing to board the same ship, they wouldn’t have hesitated to slit one another’s throat, despite their love. Their passion was sporadic, limited to quick and unplanned meetings at sea or in the ports where they lay anchor.
Rool, meanwhile, wasn’t entirely convinced. The captain was a fierce and merciless pirate, but for his “baby,” as he insisted on calling her, he wanted nothing but the best, and he believed that only a man stronger than himself could be worthy of his daughter. He took Benares to be a fool, and their passion a childish whim.
As time went on, though, he was forced to concede—and when his opinion changed, so did the crew’s.
The king of the Land of the Sea, in taking up his personal crusade against piracy, had Rool at the top of his list from the very outset. The price on Rool’s head was enough to excite the greed of any man.
But that never troubled the captain. That’s just the way he was—cocksure, untroubled by danger, oblivious to all but the sea, his beloved ship, and Aires.
When they captured him, he was out of his element, on land, drinking merrily in a tavern. During the
One morning, Rool and his men attacked Benares’s army ship. Benares battled one crewman after another, routing them easily, until he came to Aires. Astonished by her beauty, he committed the most fatal of sins: gallantry.
“I don’t draw my sword against women,” he said with a practiced tone, “only my heart.”
In response, Aires slashed his uniform to pieces with a few flicks of her sword and lunged at him mercilessly. Benares was forced to unsheathe his weapon. After a violent duel, he soon found himself face-to-face with death, the blade of her sword pinned to his throat.
Aires took a long look at him, breathing heavily with fatigue, and slid her sword back in its sheath. “You’re too handsome to kill,” she said coolly, then turned her back and reboarded her ship in a flash. Benares watched as the red sails disappeared into the distance, knowing his destiny was aboard that ship.
He left the army and joined a band of pirates. Bold and reckless as he was, he built a reputation in no time. His name was heard in the taverns where the buccaneers gathered, and his fame as a great swordsman took hold rapidly.
Aires had always loved a challenge. There were times she’d even convinced her father to attack a ship already seized by other pirates, just for the thrill of proving herself in battle. Which is exactly what happened in the case of Benares—after months of cat and mouse, they found themselves face-to-face once again, on the deck of a galleon they’d both boarded.
It was a bizarre duel. Between jabs and blocks, he proclaimed his love for her, employing all the methods of seduction he’d picked up in his travels. She countered with her wit, sharper than her sword, and made a fool of him and his romantic declarations. Words failed her, though, when she found herself with her back against the wall. It was the first time she’d been beaten by a man in battle.
“Tell me you love me and I’ll let you live,” Benares whispered, his face nearly pressed to hers.
“I’d rather you slit my throat,” she shot back defiantly.
“As you wish,” said Benares, smiling. “But only after this.”
He pulled her head close and kissed her passionately. Aires, surprising even herself, kissed him back with equal fury.
From then on they belonged to one another. If they had found themselves competing to board the same ship, they wouldn’t have hesitated to slit one another’s throat, despite their love. Their passion was sporadic, limited to quick and unplanned meetings at sea or in the ports where they lay anchor.
Rool, meanwhile, wasn’t entirely convinced. The captain was a fierce and merciless pirate, but for his “baby,” as he insisted on calling her, he wanted nothing but the best, and he believed that only a man stronger than himself could be worthy of his daughter. He took Benares to be a fool, and their passion a childish whim.
As time went on, though, he was forced to concede—and when his opinion changed, so did the crew’s.
The king of the Land of the Sea, in taking up his personal crusade against piracy, had Rool at the top of his list from the very outset. The price on Rool’s head was enough to excite the greed of any man.
But that never troubled the captain. That’s just the way he was—cocksure, untroubled by danger, oblivious to all but the sea, his beloved ship, and Aires.
When they captured him, he was out of his element, on land, drinking merrily in a tavern. During the
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