Nightfall

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*Chapter 3: Nightfall*

The king didn’t stay.

“Nightfall,” he said, voice flat like a blade. Then he left with Alpha and half the guards trailing behind him. Armor flashed once, then faded. The water shifted as they moved off, a heavy current in their wake, leaving only two guards to watch the post.

“Fail, and Alpha finishes what he started,” the king’s voice echoed one last time before he vanished into the blue. The words sank into the sand.

The second he was gone, the post erupted. Slaves exhaled. Someone coughed. A child whimpered.

“Silence!” one guard barked, his trident slamming against rock. The crack echoed. “No moving. No talking. You wait here till nightfall.”

But he couldn’t watch everyone. The gate post was wide, built from broken coral and old shipwood, and the other guard was already distracted, eyeing Dove’s haul of coral with greedy eyes. Greed made guards careless.

Beatrice felt Mom’s fingers dig into her arm again. The nails weren’t digging from fear anymore. They were digging from decision.

“We have maybe four hours,” Mom whispered, pulling her behind a pillar of coral where the guards couldn’t see. The coral was bleached and brittle, but it broke the line of sight. “Bale won’t hold. He’ll talk before the deadline. He always talks when they press.”

Beatrice’s heart pounded against her ribs. “Then what do we do?” Her voice was small, but steady.

Mom glanced at her belt, at the faint outline of the comb under her tunic. Her face was pale, lips pressed thin.

“We run. Now. Before Bale breaks, and before those guards decide to search us. Once they start touching slaves, they won’t stop.”

“But where?” Beatrice asked. Panic rose fast. “The king owns this sea. Every post will turn us in. There’s no safe water.”

“Not the reef,” Mom said, eyes darting to the blue beyond the gate. “Not the old caves. No one goes there. The currents are wrong and the stories are worse. If we make it, we hide till morning and figure the rest out. One night. That’s all we need.”

Beatrice glanced back at Bale. He was still on his knees, head bowed, but his eyes weren’t closed. They were fixed on her. Waiting. Green eyes, tired and knowing.

He knew she had the comb.

And he knew nightfall was coming.

“Beatrice!” a guard’s voice snapped, sharp as a whip. “Get back in line!”

Mom shoved her forward, gentle but fast. “Go. Act normal. Head down. We move when their backs turn. One breath, one kick.”

Beatrice stepped back into line, legs shaking under her tunic. The comb felt heavier with every second, like it was pulling her down. Across the post, Bale lifted his head just slightly. His mouth moved. No sound came out, but Beatrice read his lips.

_I’m sorry._

The sun sank lower beyond the gate. Light turned orange, then red, then dim. Shadows stretched long across the sand and climbed the coral. The water cooled.

Nightfall came, and running felt impossible. The guards were closer now. Their spears glinted.

But staying felt like death. A slower one.

Mom’s whisper hit her ear one last time, barely louder than the current:

“When I drop the coral basket, you run. Don’t look back. Don’t stop.”

Beatrice’s tail coiled under her. Ready.

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