Daughter of the dark sea, p.20
Daughter of the Dark Sea, page 20
“Hey—you!” Digs called out from the side as Kora neared the door. “I don’t know you.”
“I’m new.” Thankfully her voice was muffled by the silk covering.
“Nobody is ever new here,” his voice darkened.
He was tall and broad like Samuel, but clean-shaven, with shaggy, dirt-brown hair falling to his shoulders. A pale ivory mask, with swirling silver marks resembling the currents of the wind, cut across his squared, unamused face.
“Tell me who you are.” His large hands clenched into fists as he scanned her dark cloak.
“Jump,” the voice spiralled through Kora’s mind, and she welcomed the comforting guidance that had been disappearing lately. Her stare slid to the right—to a small, square shaped window. Through the iron-bolted door at her back, the sounds of chaos smacked against the barrier, vibrating through the air.
Digs frowned, nearing her and the door.
Damn the gods.
“Me? I’m leaving.” Kora ran and leapt, curling her body inward as she smashed through the window with flying force, using the sheer red drapes to protect her from shards of shattered glass.
The lavender hostess shrieked as Kora flung the red sheet, spiralling through the air before landing in a crouch in the dark alleyway beside The Abandoned Barnacle. Pain cracked up her legs, and she gritted her teeth from the impact. Being a mage would explain why she could leap from two floors high and not break a single bone. Her cheeks heated. As if she’d thought she’d inherited good bone density.
“Hey!” Digs leaned out of the window, his mask removed, and shock plastering his squared face. Double shit. He’d seen her survive the jump. She was a confirmed mage to the Skytors. No one could know that she, a captain, was a mage. Thank the gods her cloak still covered her white hair.
Glass rained around her, and she pushed into a running sprint down the filthy alley, darting around crates and yellow-tinted puddles to the main winding street that snaked through the heart of the port town.
27
As she rounded the corner at high speed, she smacked straight into a slab of muscle dressed in silver armour. Kora hastily removed the black silk from her face as the guard turned and stared down at her with unfeeling eyes.
“I found Miss Cadell,” he spoke with a gruff voice. She exhaled with irritated relief.
Captain Cadell, you bilge-sucking—no. She wouldn’t finish that thought. Her body crackled with energy, her veins alight with powerful thrumming. Was this her magic?
“Kora!” Bree squeaked from behind the line of guards. “What are you doing there? We thought you were still inside with the brawling!”
The guards parted like a shimmering silver wave, and Bree stood gracefully, smiling down at Kora as she motioned towards The Abandoned Barnacle with a sparkling hand.
Kora peered through the bay window at the figures scuffling and fighting, with Circe sprinting in between, flailing her arms. Conan excitedly leapt up at the crowds, his dual tails wagging, and sailors collapsed from the sheer weight and size of the hound.
“I took the back exit,” Kora’s voice strained as a tall figure with shaggy hair ran into the rupture of brawling males. “We should head back. Now.”
“We suggest not taking our lady somewhere so . . . raucous next time,” a guard spoke sternly.
Bree rolled her eyes, tugging Kora closer as they strolled through the streets towards the mid-district. There were no market stalls here, no crooked structures. The wooden and brick buildings were fresh, built within the last fifty years, in an array of colours. Tall and slender like Bree, with iron-glass panes, and not a single Devani god statue. Instead, banners and flags of the insignia lined the streets, with silver-armoured guards stationed at every corner to ensure peace.
Bree launched into a monologue of the sailor-filled attention she’d received, followed by the fantastical unruly fight that broke out after a sailor had knocked someone’s stein over—presumably because of Conan. Shame warmed Kora’s cheeks.
Yet, her mind kept drifting back to Finlay.
He’d been a gods-damned spy. Who were the Skytors? Why was the Mist growing?
Who were they looking for?
“They’re looking for you.” She blocked the voice. No. No way. On Thanos’ cloth she was not their target. Yet . . . Digs and the mysterious male had claimed they were searching for a female, and Finlay’s lead had brought him to Hell’s Serpent . . .
Why would they be after her? She was nothing. Just a captain in the armada. Being a mage didn’t make her special. Not after discovering an obscene amount of them in a dingey room upstairs in an unsuspecting tavern. Clearly, mages have learned to hide in plain sight. A shiver skittered down her spine. Now she’d need to do the same. She couldn’t grapple with her new reality, and deep-set lines marred her face as she failed to suppress her worry, questions swimming around in her mind until she felt dizzy.
“Kora?”
Her head whipped up as they neared the grand stone wall separating them from the residential districts. Blake stood at the end of a dark street connected to the main road, holding a leather-bound tan folio.
She stiffened as he approached, his eyes skimming over the guards, assessing the group of strangers she was with, and then they suddenly stopped at Bree as she stepped forward. He cleared his throat. “Captain Cadell.” Followed by a nod. Kora inclined her head in return, ignoring the huff emitted from one of the guards at the mention of her title.
“Mr Marwood.” The words twisted her tongue.
Bree nudged her elbow as her attentive stare raked over Blake. Observing, gauging—devouring. His raven hair glistened under the high sun, and his usual black attire fitted his strong frame; the golden empire insignia embossed over his chest.
“May I introduce Bree Hydrafort.” Kora’s voice choked at Bree’s blue eyes lighting up.
Blake bowed respectfully as Bree held out her diamond-adorned hand. Wrapping his hand around hers, he lightly placed his lips upon it in a kiss. Kora sucked in a sharp breath as his lips lingered a second—just a second.
What the fuck.
“It’s always an honour to meet a Hydrafort.” He spoke with reverence, his voice taking on that democratic tone he used in meetings. Kora fought the urge to roll her eyes. Such a show off.
“Pleasure,” Bree purred, and Kora’s stomach twisted as Bree fluttered her fan. “Blake Marwood. Champion of the trials. I know all about you.”
Since when had Bree been so aware of Blake? Kora gritted her teeth as he chuckled in return. His dark, teasing chuckle. The one he used only with her when they were together in private. It shuddered through her skeleton, conjuring flashes of heat in the shadowy alcove of Cadell Manor. Only yesterday, his lips were upon hers, so close to losing control his trousers were practically ripping at the seams.
Now those lips graced Bree’s hand.
“You flatter me.” He winked.
Her veins turned to ice.
“Your reputation is well-known in Talmon. In fact, from all I’ve heard, I feel as though I already know you.”
Kora’s mind raced as Blake and Bree conversed, her friend’s twinkling laugh joining his deep, sultry tones, and Kora clenched her fists, directing her frustration down into the sensation of her nails biting her palms.
Their relationship wasn’t a façade.
They couldn’t tell the world they were together.
They had to flirt with others to maintain the illusion.
She repeated the mantras over and over in her head.
But—Bree?
“Kora, it is a crime that we’ve not been introduced sooner.” Bree plastered one of her dazzling smiles on, resting her palm on Blake’s bicep, her thumb sweeping over the curve of muscle. Kora’s vision tunnelled onto it.
It was a crime that she was fucking touching her first mate. That thrumming in her body pulsated into a thunderous beat, filling her ears. Her red haze was unchecked, dampening her rational thought.
“Months and years out at sea makes it hard to go around introducing friends. It’s not an easy job.” Her sharp tone caused them both to glare at her.
Blake’s face sent a warning look of, watch your tone, don’t give anything away. Whilst Bree’s forced smile spoke volumes: don’t mess this up for me.
“We spent a lot of time apart ourselves, working in different fleets. But now, Captain Cadell is stuck with me as an unfortunate first mate.” Another wink. Why was he winking so much? Did a piece of nobility get stuck in his eye? Despite the joking nature, the words struck a chord with Kora. A stinging chord.
“Oh!” Bree exclaimed, fanning her fan exaggeratively.
Kora hid her scowl as Blake’s green eyes were drawn to the movement of the fan, perfectly positioned in front of her bosom. Bree’s pale shimmering dress accented her rich dark skin, and Kora glanced down at herself.
She was tanned, but short in stature. With curves, yet muscled from years of hard labour in fleets. Her short hair was nothing in comparison to Bree’s exotic braids, and Bree didn’t have a single scar on her body or face.
The seeded doubts surfaced once again.
“You must tell me of your adventures! Kora never tells me any gossip.”
A subtle glance from Blake and their unspoken connection passed through them again, electrifying Kora to her fingertips. Nope. That desire was still there. A Hydrafort does not—could not—know about their exploits with pirates, and skimming the profits off the top.
“I can assure you, it’s not as adventurous as it may seem.” Blake’s lips twitched upwards into a smirk. “It’s a lot of scouting, checking coasts, and carrying precious cargo.”
“How disappointing. I’d certainly like to know more, especially about when you went missing in the Shaurock Sea.” A pause, and Blake tensed enough for Kora to catch a glimmer of worry pass across his face. Why was he worried? “Perhaps over dinner?” Bree’s tone dropped to a sensual depth.
“Oh, well I’m sure the captain and I—”
“No, no,” Bree shook her head. “Just you.”
Kora blurted out the next thing she could think of before she screamed. “I thought you were working in the barracks today?”
Her sudden question made them both halt, and Blake dragged his admiration from Bree to glare at Kora. In a blink, his face smoothed out into neutrality, the epitome of an officer’s poise.
“I am. I had to liaise with officers stationed in the western town about some activity.” His reply was blunt and indifferent, but something lingered beneath his tone, and she cast a wary glance towards the western town where the lower districts were. Where the Silvermaid’s Emporium was.
Kora could read the thoughts as clear as day in his eyes. They were two sides of a mirror from their years together honing their compatibility as fighters. Always deeply attuned to the other. He’d been called away to dampen the rebellious fires lighting within people’s hearts. She was sure enough that the folio in his hands was a list of names to be executed. Her breath caught in her dry, constricting throat, and she nodded meekly. She hoped Agatha was safe in her shop. Her gut knotted, before plummeting. She’d had a rebel spy on her ship for weeks.
One of the soldiers grunted, “We’d like to escort our lady back home.”
“Of course, mustn’t keep a lady waiting.” Blake bowed, a grin pasted on his face, and Bree laughed in return, swishing her sparkling skirts.
“Feel free to call on me in the upper district,” she swooned as he straightened, her hands accidentally brushing over his chest.
If the god of death could strike Kora now, that would be great.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kora murmured, not meeting Blake’s stare as the soldiers pushed them on, towards the gate in the looming grey wall.
“I hope to see you again!” Bree called after a few steps, and Kora bit the inside of her cheek as she carried on walking, not daring to look back to see the expression on his face.
Bree brimmed with elation. “Now that is a man.”
“Blake? He’s okay, I guess.”
“Okay? A champion of the trials!” Bree fanned herself as she spoke. “Your first mate, a liaison of the army. He’s strong, powerful, respectable.”
“What are you saying?” Kora stopped walking and the guards halted, their armour clinking at the movement.
“He could be it.” Bree smiled, casting a look back to the port town, as if she could look right through the thick protection wall and see Blake. “He could be the one. No—he is the one.”
Kora’s temper simmered and she spoke through clenched teeth, “But you have to marry into nobility.”
“I’m sure my father can make an exception for someone like him. I mean, a champion! He could be a commander someday. He should be one already. I could help him. Odd that he’s not tried to advance into the army yet. You wouldn’t know why that is, would you?”
Bree continued walking at Kora’s silence, towing her along, oblivious to her stiff reluctance. She wouldn’t be able to stop a marriage like that, and Bree was right. Blake may have come from low, humble roots, but he’d more than proved himself with his achievements, and with the support of Bree’s family, he could easily become the next commander . . . or even a viceroy.
A viceroy would never be with a captain.
It’d be years before Kora could achieve admiral status. She’d have to replace Erick first as commodore, and he was taking every step to drag that goal further away from her. It was too much time, and marriages happened quick in Azaria, especially for nobility.
But Blake could deny Bree.
She clung to the thought. He could reject her family’s proposal. Maybe Kora could elope with him—no. The thought of leaving Erick, leaving Agatha, made her heart plummet.
Besides, if they eloped, they would be hunted down as traitors to the crown, and to the armada. Obtaining a ship to escape to the seas would be a guaranteed death sentence, and they’d become the very thing they despised. Pirates.
She was already a killer. A thief. Kora felt as though she were taking the steps to becoming a bona fide pirate. She’d already infiltrated a rebel’s nest, blending in as if she belonged. Something she couldn’t report without revealing her own magic. Gods, she was a walking criminal. The power coursing through her veins was a threat to the kingdom. All she’d have to do was start torturing innocents, and blindly murdering everyone that stepped in her path, and she’d easily fit in with Galen, as well.
Exhaustion swept in as the pulsing beat of power evaporated from her limbs, leaving a cold unseen residue, hollowing her core.
“Put in a good word for me, would you?” Bree spoke excitedly, her eyes sparkling as she envisioned her future. “I can tell you have a good friendship with him. Imagine—your two closest friends getting married?”
Kora didn’t want to imagine it at all.
28
What’s this?” Erick sat across from Kora at the large mahogany parlour room table, scrutinising the lemon placed beside her bowl of berried porridge.
“A lemon?” Kora replied between mouthfuls, shovelling her oats down before they commenced their journey to Whitestone Bay within the hour. Plates piled high with cured meats, spiced eggs, and freshly baked pastries covered the space between them. Black drapes fluttered behind her from the tall glass windows, letting in the scorching heat. Erick picked up the lemon with both hands and his frown deepened.
Kora paused as faint lines crinkled at the edges of his eyes, the lines in his forehead becoming prominent. Even the flecked greys in the sides of his hair seemed glaringly bright. When had Erick aged so much? His youth faded away from him faster and faster every time she returned home.
“Is this from our trees?” He turned the lemon over in his hands, inspecting it.
“Yes, why? It’s just a lemon.” What was the big deal?
Kora piled meats and eggs onto her plate next, washing her porridge down with crisp water. Praise the empire for inventing drinking taps. Their voices echoed within the grand room, and she always wondered why he insisted they ate in here when there was a smaller table within the kitchens. A much cosier space, compared to this black-and-white hollow room. Even the diamond-shaped black-tiled floor was cold. The cream wallpapered walls were bland, no flicker or indication of a life lived.
She wondered if Erick ate here alone when she was on her long voyages.
“It’s massive,” he observed, placing the lemon back down on the table between them, the weight of it causing the silverware to rattle. “Unnaturally so.”
Kora shrugged as she continued fuelling up her body for the day. She’d slept terribly. Tossing and turning, dreaming about Blake and Bree’s wedding, and the idea that she would be left alone in the impending darkness. Unable to escape, unable to breathe, trapped in a coffin shrinking by the second.
Maybe she belonged in one.
Which was swiftly followed by dreams of Finlay rising from the dead, as an ash-covered empty shell. Hunting her down, his eyes and voice void of life, crying out that his death was her fault. That she had failed him. Her hand clenched around her spoon as she fought to swallow her food, trying to push Finlay—and his secret Skytor group—from her mind.
He’d been a spy. A rebel. She couldn’t mourn him any longer.
“I thought Chef might like to have it . . . to cook with.”
“Cook with? He’ll be using it for weeks.” Erick ruffled his papers, and his eyes continued to pour over his latest reports from scouts.
“Anything interesting?”
His jaw twitched. “I hope not, we have enough trouble as it is. You need to be careful on this journey to the south, Kora. The exiles are getting more daring in their attacks and are trying to take over the oasis as a camp for themselves.”
“We’ll be fine. Blake and I have handled worse.”
“That’s at sea. You’re more skilled when it comes to naval warfare, with the safety and protection of Hell’s Serpent.”
Kora paused in her shovelling of food at the worried tone in his voice. It was so rare that he expressed his parental concerns. Their relationship thus far had been turbulent, but Erick had always been patient and nurturing, to an extent. Her first few years had been erratic, and his kindness had led her through the darkness of waking up to an unknown world, with an unknown name, and a voice rattling her mind.
