Page 119 of Daughter of the Dark Sea

“It’s not important. I’ve come to warn you, child.”

“Warn me?” The dome shuddered and she yawned, sleep clutching at her, trying to drag her back down to its slumbered depths.

Agatha’s bony fingers clenched Kora’s jaw, forcing her to look at her, and she jolted in surprise that she was able to command her water humanoid form.

“Listen to me,”Agatha pleaded. “I don’t have long.”

“What . . . where are you?” A distant feeling of panic stung the edges of Kora’s blanketed numbness, laced with a stomach-clenching nausea threatening to submerge the dome in a torrent of unbearable spinning.

“Do not trust them, do you hear me? You can only trust one person,and he’s right there.”

Her ever-changing stare glanced behind Kora, and she turned to find her lingering thread, in the shape of a figure, lurking beyond her dome. Ever waiting.

“No . . . no. I can’t, Agatha. I’m never letting him in again.”

She blinked drowsily, her eyelids scraping like sandpaper. What was wrong with her? The edges of her vision blurred. A cold blanket had been thrown across her mind, dulling her senses.

“How . . . do you . . . know him?” the words stumbled from her lips, and she groaned as her vision darkened. “Agatha . . . I don’t feel well.”

The cracks in her dome splintered, expanding into a webbed structure, every brick creaking around them.

“Trust me, Kora,” Agatha whispered. “Let him in, you need to do it—do it now.”

Reluctantly, Kora waved a hand, and her precious dome came crashing down. Before the shards rained onto them, they simply evaporated into little beads of blue smoke. The thread struck, poised like a serpent, wrapping around her form, winding, and winding.

“I miss you . . .” the words echoed over and over, from Kora’s lips, as she descended into the darkness of the void.

The talisman was missing.

It was fucking missing.

Kora had turned the room upside down, ripping pillows from their covers, tossing bed covers across the room searching for the wretched thing. After thirty minutes, she collapsed by the side of the bed, panting.

It was gone.Fuck, fuck, fuck.This was disastrous on epic proportions.

And with it, her water beast had died inside her. Even if she focused, she was met with cold absence. She attempted manipulating the water on the bedside—nothing. Agatha’s warning drifted through her mind.You don’t want it falling into the wrong hands.

Kora raked her hands through her short waves, her heart clanging against her ribs as she tried to recall the previous evening. It’d all become so hazy after her dance with Barron—what in the gods had happened? She didn’t remember returningto her chambers. Shock and shame still haunted her, along with a hangover from the pits of Umbra. Her scar thrummed along in time with her heart, and she groaned.

How could she lose it? She’d taken it off foronenight, and she’d lost it. It had to be in this room somewhere . . . maybe if she disassembled the bed itself? She’d expected relief when her wish of disposing it had been fulfilled, but instead, all-encompassing dread smothered her, squeezing her diaphragm until she bolted for the bathing chambers, spewing last night’s wine.

After rinsing her mouth, she collapsed by the bed, shakily tracing the silvery beads of her ballgown discarded on the floor. Hiding beneath the dread, a sliver of grief wrapped in ice consumed her, devouring her organs until she was a husk.

It was lonely without her powers. She feltweak. She hadn’t realised how comforting the beast had been, a second skin protecting her, nurturing her.

“Kora?”

A gentle knock rapped at her door, and Blake peered around the door curiously. His forest green eyes raked in the tossed covers, pillows, and throws, and Kora crumpled on the floor, her hands fisted in the shimmering ballgown. His stare lingered on her for a moment, assessing the same way Erick did, before melting into an unwelcomed softness.

“I see you’ve made yourself at home,” his drawl returned.

She didn’t respond, wouldn’t evenlookat him. She couldn’t handle this. Handle the lies. The deception.

“Be strong. . .” the voice had returned.

Steeling herself, she stood to face him. She’d dressed ready for battle today, in the hopes it would strengthen her. Covered head to toe in black leathers, buckled together, along with her favoured blades hidden in their scabbards on her back. As much as she adored her sailing jerkin, she desired full-body strength and protection.

Blake cleared his throat, noticing her defensive stance. His thumb brushed a dark satchel slung across his shoulder.Odd. He rarely used a satchel, preferring to keep everything hidden in compartments in his leathers.