Page 17 of Daughter of the Dark Sea

Samuel met Kora in the shadows of the bowsprit. Brimming with merriment, he smelled like half a barrel of grog, and stuck out like a large, blonde boulder amongst the sea of slender, lithe males. He hummed a sea shanty under his breath as they ducked into a small coving away from prying eyes.

“Captain!”

Samuel’s broad face broke into a gleeful smile, and she steadied his drunken sway with her hands. They looked so tiny against his chest.

“I love this ship,”

he crooned, his stein sloshing with spiced liquid. Good gods.

“Sam,”

she commanded his attention.

“Did you speak to Cook?”

He nodded eagerly.

“Aye, he knew nothing. I had to help make dinner to get any information from him.”

Samuel patted his stomach, which was spectacularly muscled—and full of food.

“He said the knife disappeared two days ago. He’s been using a sword to cut meat from our raid instead.”

Samuel shrugged, swigging from his rapidly emptying stein.

“Did he have any idea who might’ve stolen it? Anyone suspicious seen around his kitchen?”

Kora placed two fingers on the rim of Samuel’s stein, lowering it away from his grog-blushed face. Drips of liquid coated his beard and soaked his shirt as his sharp, grey eyes focused.

“Nah, I asked. Some of the pit guards spent a lunch in his kitchen two days ago, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.”

The day before the Flint twins escaped Hell’s Pit, and three days after their capture on Demon Sea Siren. She had to find this rat, and fast, before her secrets leaked.

Kora patted Samuel’s shoulder, and he drunkenly staggered to a circle of sailors, ready to sing more sea shanties. She could still hear the jovial melodies as she meandered to the med bay. Pausing before the crooked door, she raised her knuckles.

What if Blake was the rat?

He was the only other who had access to the empire’s seal in her quarters. If only they still had the letter, she’d be able to recognise the handwriting. But what would he gain from releasing the twins from their cells? He’d been ready to kill Silas for absconding. It didn’t make sense. If Silas could steal a cleaver knife, then he could steal a wax seal.

But how?

Her heart thudded unpleasantly with shame for thinking Blake could be the rat, and she wondered about his condition on the other side of the wooden door as it flew open. Koji appeared through the slanted frame, his brows raised questioningly. His hair was falling out of its top knot, and wild grey strands framed his long, aged face. Kora wrinkled her nose at the waft of disinfectant and herbs permeating the room.

Every Talmon Empire capital vessel contained a med bay, built into the port side above the hull. In their case, as far away from the mouldy, acrid starboard side of Hell’s Pit as possible.

“Can I see him?”

She folded her hands serenely in front of her.

He curtly nodded, motioning to enter. Kora silently stepped across the threshold and the overwhelming scent of herbal remedies washed over her, stuffing her nose. Her chest tightened, and she let out a hacked cough, causing Koji to throw her an irked glance.

The room was rectangular—like the pit, but slanted from a kick of wind knocking it when the ship had been built. Several bolted-down beds lined the far wall—enough for eight people, two of which were occupied. One was Blake’s dark form, the other a nameless sailor, his laboured, wet breathing filling the silence. Three brass portholes interspersed the wall above them, and shafts of moonlight beamed through the room.

Chests and cabinets lined the remaining walls, filled with varying bottles and tins of gods-knew-what, with a small desk beside the entrance, covered in scribbled, thick papers. She couldn’t make out the writing under the dim lantern illumination. Large stacks of thick-spined books towered by the desk, all intricately detailed. Some had gold embossed into their covers. Gold. Koji shuffled forward, blocking her view of the curious collection.

“He’s very tired,”

he explained.

“But he’s healing well. Try not to disturb him too much.”

Irritation flashed through Kora and she narrowed her eyes. This damn healer.

“He’ll need to sleep soon. Rest is important for recovery,”

Koji continued, in his factual manner.

“Then why let me visit at all?”

She braced her hands on her hips to give them something to do beside throttling the healer, and scratching the relentless itch on her shoulder. Gods, what if she’d caught fleas from the pirates?

Koji glanced back at the occupied bed in the corner.

“Because,”

he lowered his voice before meeting her gaze.

“he’s been asking for his blue-eyed beauty.”

Red stained Kora’s cheeks as she faltered, sputtering, trying to think of something to tell Koji—that they were not together. That they hadn’t promised their selves to each other. That they weren’t each other’s everything.

That they hadn’t committed a forbidden act in the eyes of the law.

The healer raised his bony hands, his attempt at comfort causing her to cringe.

“I’m not the empire,”

he assured.

“I go where the coins are.”

Fatigue consumed his seasoned wise face, and he silently trudged out of the med bay, his pointy shoulders hunched. Indeed, healers were notoriously money-driven in the empire, their allegiance leaning towards the wealth they could attain rather than the infirm. They worked wherever they obtained contracts, and Koji had a long-standing one with Hell’s Serpent. Whenever they set sail, he had to be onboard.

Once the leaning door shut with a gentle tug, Kora exhaled, forcing the stench of disinfectant and herbs from her nose. Gods, it smelled awful. Like lavender soaked in lethal levels of grog and left in the sun to rot.

She sat on a small, cracked stool by Blake’s narrow cot. A candle burned brightly beside the bed, black wax dripping down into a plain brass holder. Unsurprisingly, the whole room was the same ebony colour as the rest of Hell’s Serpent, and Blake eerily blended into the darkness.

His raven hair hung limp in his ashen face, and a bandage covered his abdomen, rising and falling with strained, shallow breaths. The wound on his arm was stark against his paled skin. Koji had pulled back the white sheets down to his waist, and the scent of disinfectant was so strong, Kora’s eyes watered.

“I think he’s addicted to that salve,”

Blake mused, his voice weak as his eyes fluttered open.

“Oh!”

Her watering eyes threatened to spill into tears, and she wiped her face before clutching his clammy hand. He squeezed her fingers. As their flesh touched, all her doubts about him faded away, her faith in him solidifying within her heart.

“I was so worried!”

Kora’s pulse fluttered at his emerald gleam.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,”

he joked, wincing as he shifted in the bed.

“Blake . . . I thought you’d died,”

she whispered, barely able to sound the words out. A world without him was unimaginable. His eyes softened, and he gently reached up to stroke her hair.

“Hey,”

he soothed as Kora’s lip trembled.

“You will never lose me, asterya. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, and beyond.”

Her wobbling lips curled into a smile as their silent promise coursed through the air, and she leaned over, placing a kiss on his cheek.

A hacking cough grated her, and she glanced over to the sailor, several beds down. He wheezed, coughing repeatedly, and gasping for breath before he settled back down. His breathing was scarily faint yet raspy. The male was deathly pale, his cheeks sunken, his skeletal frame protruding through paper-thin skin. How did he get so skinny? Several vials of varying amber liquids had been left beside the bed.

“I think he won’t be with us much longer,”

Blake murmured.

Kora sat down, her body deflating at another crew member fading away.

“He’s what’s left of the casualties with Demon Sea Siren. He was badly wounded by their archers.”

Blake tugged on her hand, pulling her gaze from the heavily bandaged sailor.

“Koji’s just keeping him comfortable . . . until it’s time.”

Her decisions had caused this. He was probably so thin from starvation, only to meet his demise after she believed she could crusade against four pirate lords.

Hindsight was a beautifully painful thing.

They wouldn’t have lost so many crew members, and would never have discovered the Flint twins. Finlay would still be alive. Blake wouldn’t be here, in the med bay. She rubbed at her ever-aching chest and nodded glumly. So much death, and all because she wanted to hunt pirates.

Because her revenge, was everyone’s revenge.

“It’s all my fault,”

Kora snivelled.

“Don’t,”

Blake’s voice strained.

“You did everything you could. Those twins planned this. They . . . they could do things, Kora. Things I’ve never seen before. If you blame yourself, the pirates will win, and they’ve already taken so much from you. Don’t let them take this.”

He clasped her hands.

“What happened last night?”

Her voice cracked as the intensely strong-smelling salves attacked her senses and she wiped her nose, scratching at her cheek.

Blake winced, as if remembering ignited the pain of the physical wound.

“I don’t fully remember. It’s all hazy to me now. I remember darkness, and feeling cold. Before that, I was fighting the twins with Finlay, and one of them grabbed a sword—gutting me. Just like that.”

His eyes shuttered, as he attempted to snap his fingers, but only managed a small brush of his fingertips.

“Which one did it?”

“I’m not sure. They’re fast, strong, lethal,”

Blake sighed.

“They easily bested me. I should be dead.”

She stilled. Kora had witnessed the full might of Blake Marwood, as he tore through a hundred soldiers during the Darkoning Trials with a single sword, enforcing his revenge on her behalf for the fighting pits. He was one of the most skilled swordsmen in the entire empire, as well as a powerful commanding officer in the armada. If anyone could match Blake’s sheer might and strength, or even surpass it, they had to be something else entirely.

Something unnatural. Inhuman.

Another wheezing cough broke through the room, followed by a sharp gasp for air. The sailor didn’t have long left.

“Asterya, tell me how things are faring up above.”

The threat of slumber lurked in the shadows of Blake’s forest-green eyes, but she propped her chin on her hand as she stroked her thumb across his rough palm, divulging the events since Finlay’s death—excluding her secret chats with Jack Flint.

Blake cursed before she reached the part of the forged letter.

“Sam’s right. We have a rat,”

he hissed.

“Whoever it is, I bet they’re still on this ship, hiding amongst the crew,”

Kora summarised, Finlay’s death burning a hole in her heart.

The traitor had to be here. And why would they help the Flint twins? Was it a coincidence two unlikely events happened so close together? Pirate lords never worked together, yet they’d stumbled onto the meeting, just for the survivors to escape Hell’s Pit. Were the Flint twins . . . spies?

Realisation dawned on Blake’s face, and he tried pushing his body up, his teeth clenching at the effort.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting up, we’ve got a rat to catch.”

He sat up and gasped with pain, clutching at his side.

“On second thoughts, maybe this is a task for the morning. But don’t do anything without me. Not when it could endanger you.”

Kora smiled wryly as she helped him settle back into the bed. She pulled the covers up to combat the evening chill in the room and pushed his hair out of his eyes as his lids slowly drooped. Blake suddenly caught her wrist as she leaned forward to brush her lips against his flushed forehead.

“Stay,”

he pleaded softly.

“Koji wants you to sleep.”

“I’ll sleep better knowing you’re here. I . . . I don’t like being in here.”

“Well, if it’ll improve your health.”

Her smile grew as she sat, resting her upper body on the bed by Blake’s legs.

“Is Koji not entertaining enough for you?”

she teased.

He laughed once, wincing to control the pain.

“I’ve spent enough days in an infirmary. Countless nights sweating from infections from my . . . father’s training. He liked to think it built character, branding me with wounds, just for me to suffer on the precipice of dying. It made me fearful, of my own family.”

She stilled. Another insight to his past. Her entire being pulsed, elated with receiving information about his life, but also with a deep hatred that someone could harm Blake, especially as a child.

“I’m sorry. That’s awful. What kind of training did he make you do?”

As she reached out her arm, her fingertips brushing Blake’s, his eyes slid shut, exhaustion overpowering him, and he fell into a deep slumber, leaving her question unanswered. Her skin prickled, the itch clawing up her neck and across her scalp. She followed it, her nails scratching until her skin was raw.

For a while, Kora watched his chest rise and fall, as he breathed deeply, making sure those breaths never stopped.

Falling.

Falling through the air—no, the sky.

Laughter bubbled out of her, the sound escaping her lips and carrying on the current of the winds.

She was so free. So . . . alive.

She smiled up at the bright, cobalt, and lavender endless sky. Little tufts of pearlescent clouds drifted around her, and she reached out, gently brushing through the puffs, beads of water clinging to her golden skin. She twirled her fingers, weaving them through the sky as she soared.

Soared downwards, to the glimmering azure ocean.

She was not afraid.

As she approached the welcoming sea, she exhaled an elated sigh, bringing her hands above her flowing, long hair, shimmering like moonlight.

Following the curving sweep of her arms, a thick stream of warm, ocean water rushed out to greet her. It swept under her body, cascading around her, wrapping around her curves until she floated above the surface of fathomless blue.

A gust of briny wind ruffled her hair and she smiled, sensing a presence behind her. She whipped her hand up, palm extended out, sending a blast of water at—

Kora jolted awake, gasping for air as she choked on water, violently retching on the floor. Salted water pooled on the wooden slats of the med bay, and a shuddering gasp wrecked through her as she ran a shaky hand through her short hair.

What. The. Fuck.

Blake was still asleep, his pale face taut with pain and a sheen of sweat. She sat back in bewilderment. Her black breeches and white shirt were damp, and salt residue coated her harness. Her skin was clammy, her hair curling from moisture, and she could taste salt.

The talisman had escaped from under her shirt, now exposed over her heart. Kora tentatively held it up to the dawning light from the porthole. It was changing colour.

Whispering shades of purple, blended with silken midnight blue, transformed into shimmering teal in the teardrop-shape end. She lightly traced it, as the rising sun shone into the med bay, reflecting off the peculiar, metal pendant. Her fingers tingled at the touch, and the sensation travelled up her arms, into the curves of her shoulders, and down into her core.

Where something rumbled in response.

“You’re still here,”

the healer’s unimpressed voice made her jump, and Kora shoved the talisman back under her shirt before turning to face Koji.

His hair was freshly tied upon the crown of his head, not a strand out of place, and he donned the traditional empire attire of black and green. The tunic wrapped around him, tied off with a golden twisted cord. A high collar encircled his neck, with intricate black embroidery of the empire’s insignia.

Attire fit for a renowned healer. They were considered equal to the noble houses for their abilities and knowledge. A priceless skill. Kora nodded silently, her throat tense from choking on mysterious water.

How did that even happen?

Koji’s eyes roamed over her. She was a dishevelled mess. How would she explain the water all over the floor? Or why all her clothes were damp? She stood abruptly, knocking the stool, meaning to block his view of the puddle . . . only to discover the floor was bone dry.

She rapidly blinked. Had she imagined it? Kora almost knelt to touch the parched wood until she realised the room was silent. To her right were seven empty beds.

“He passed during the night,”

the healer commented.

“His body will be returned to his family.”

His golden sloping eyes gave her a deliberate look. This healer was so irksome.

“I suggest you get cleaned up.”

Koji began packing books and vials into a brown leather portmanteau bag with brass clips.

“We’ll be at Narrowfen Pass within the hour.”

Kora nodded again, unsure whether she was capable of speaking. She worried if she opened her mouth, the ocean would pour out of her, so she squeezed Blake’s hand, before hurrying out of the med bay and back to her quarters.

The talisman hummed against her chest the whole way.

Part TWO

The ROYAL HOUND