Angol
She chose the free fleet. Now she has to keep it alive.
The Empire has come with ironclads and sky-dreadnoughts to reclaim what it calls its own. Wren Halloran, the tide-marked pilot who can hear storms, is the only weapon the free fleet has that the Empire cannot predict. So she does the unthinkable: she teaches free captains Imperial doctrine, then teaches them how to break it.
Soren Blacktide, storm-marked and running on borrowed memories, is twelve years deep in the Drowned Court's debt. The Court is calling its debts in, oldest first. Every storm he summons strips away something dearer. And the debt is coming due in the middle of a war.
Wren has a plan. It requires robbing the Drowned Court itself, sailing a red course no chart admits exists, and waking something old enough to have forgotten the surface. The leviathan is not a monster. It is a god, ancient and tired, and it has its own reasons for hating what the Court has become.
To save the fleet, Wren must spend everything: her mark, her hearing, the storm-sense that made her who she is. To save her, Soren must spend the only currency he has left.
The price of freedom was never gold. It was always each other.
A dark pirate romantasy of war and devotion. Explicit. No mercy. No surrender.
Come and find us.
