Page 2 of Daughter of the Dark Sea

Part One

The Demon Sea Siren

Kora

Kora Cadell had been tracking the pirates for three days.

Her heartbeat thundered in time with the rocking of her ship on the cresting ocean waves of the expanse of the Shaurock Sea, her eyes fixed on the horizon, scouting for signs of unruly sails. She’d been staring for so long that the endless blue swirled her vision, but she would not stop. Not with the thrill of the hunt sizzling beneath her skin.

A breeze ruffled her hair, short strands of sea-foam white fluttering into her gaze as she gripped the helm, keeping her ship steady against the persistent current. Kora inhaled deeply, savouring the cool, briny southern winds as the midday sun blazed down on her crew.

Three blisteringly hot days they’d been sailing off-course from their scouting mission near Scarlet Bay. They were royally fucked. But she wouldn’t admit that.

Before their return voyage from the bay, she’d caught wind of pirates gathering in Peril Cove, and her trusty, unknown voice—that wasn’t her own—had compelled her to hunt them down. She often listened to the mysterious voice inside her mind, not that she’d admit it to anyone. She wasn’t insane! But it’d kept her alive the past ten years, and was the sandy foundation to her whirlpool mind.

Now, it’d driven her to the notorious homeland of pirates—Peril Cove. At least, it was their homeland, until a brutal war raged over two hundred years ago, scattering pirates across the seas whilst their home was desecrated. Good bloody riddance. Kora would ensure all pirates were wiped from the world they’d stained, like an ink splotch on a map.

What else was a pirate-hunter meant to do?

The cove’s unique sharp, horseshoe shape loomed ahead, surrounded by reefs and archipelagos. It was troublesome territory to sail and navigate, and many shipwrecks happened in these southern waters. Northern towers guarding the pointed tips, armed to the teeth, making it impossible to enter. Except for Captain Kora Cadell.

Her eyes flickered to the deck. Exhaustion laid heavy on her sailing crew, and dehydration was rapidly setting in. Supplies were dangerously dwindling, and rumours circled that she wasn’t fit to be captain. But those were only rumours. It was fine. No big deal.

The stench alone of the lower decks was eye watering. They’d been out at sea for too long, and she tugged at the sweat-damp collar of her black jerkin. It’d be another mark against her carefully crafted reputation.

Kora cast her eyes to the port side of Hell’s Serpent. A few miles away, she could spot the edge of the Mist, lingering like a shade.

It spanned for miles, consuming the entirety of the western island, Galen. A mystery among these god-abandoned lands, the Mist was untouchable, and impenetrable, and no one had been able to contact Galen since it appeared ten years ago.

Shortly after the empire united the islands, ending the two-hundred-year war, Galen lit the fire for a secondary war when they’d refused to bow. But the Mist arrived as a blessing, and the hostile enemy the empire feared had met their demise, contained in a prison of nature’s creation.

Being this close to it unnerved Kora, and chills ran down her spine, snaking into her weakened limbs. She’d nearly lost her life in these waters, succumbing to an attack nearby the Mist. Luckily, the commodore had saved her life from—

“Go . . . keep going,”

the deep, inviting voice whispered, dragging Kora from the depths of her mind.

The voice travelled on the ocean winds, it sang to her in her dreams, and it soothed her raging, vengeful heart. She steered the ship away from a rocky reef patch and paused to fill her lungs, tasting the thrill of sailing the barrens of the Shaurock Sea.

The night-black sails of Hell’s Serpent whipped in the air, propelling them forward. Thick, dark-green ropes looped around the base of the central main mast, with rigging and shrouds dyed the same dreadful colour. An envious malachite stone, shaped like a diamond, and embedded in the heart of the wheel, sparkled at her. The colours of the Talmon Empire followed Kora everywhere.

The crew worked relentlessly hard, muscles stretching and straining, slick with ocean spray and sweat. Black-and-dark-forest-green uniforms, lined with golden buttons and stitching, were discarded in the heat of the sun. Kora absentmindedly scratched the embroidered insignia over her chest—a sharp four-pointed star, connected by an inner loop. The empire claimed it was a symbol of unity, or some bullshit like that. Kora scoffed as she eyed the isolated, shrouded Galen Island.

“Captain Cadell.”

A familiar, deep drawl sounded from the stairs leading from the main deck.

Blake Marwood rounded the corner, his dark hair blending in with the ebony wood of her fearsome ship. He prowled with a predatory stalk in his gait, and a tight smile stretched his handsome face, causing Kora’s stomach to sink to the depths of the brig.

“The crew are beginning to wonder whether you’re of . . .”

he paused.

“. . . unsound mind, with these impulsive plunders. We’ve sailed too far.”

His deep, green eyes fixated on her face as he stood close to her side. Close enough to feel his warmth radiating from him.

“Ah, but my crazy plans always pay off. They always end up with treasure,”

Kora replied, angling her head up to meet his keen gaze.

“Rewards I am willing to hide from the empire,”

she added, fixing him that look. She put her neck on the line by amending the ledgers of their plunders. But her crew’s families were starving, and struggling to survive in the streets of Aldara’s lower districts.

It was the least she could do in her position.

Blake’s hair ruffled in the breeze, damp strands hanging over his glinting eyes. Compared to the sun-beaten skin of most naval officers, he was lightly tanned, with muscled broad shoulders, and a comfortable yet powerful authority he wielded effortlessly. So different from when they first met, all those years ago.

His uniform mirrored her own, and it suited him well, matching his hair and eyes like it’d been made for him. A thick, dark-brown leather belt hugged his hips, with a gleaming cutlass sword sheathed at his side. Gold thread trailed around the black hilt, connecting to a golden pommel that arched round and protected his hand. A dainty green-and-black tassel completed the weapon.

Everything about Blake screamed the Talmon Empire—Kora personally preferred to play with daggers—but good gods, was he handsome.

“They’re aware of your previous successes. But this latest venture of yours . . .”

Blake glanced past the bow of the ship towards the open, endless ocean. Kora adored the sight of it.

“Then why are they moaning?”

Kora snapped. She’d worked her fingers to the bone to achieve her status. Fought harder than anyone. Endured too many horrors.

Blake inhaled sharply, his hands hovering near her calloused and scarred ones, from the many years of working as a low-level sailor. A whisper of a touch. She inspected the dirt crusting her fingernails. She really needed a bath.

“It’s been an extra three days, Kora. We still need to sail back. Supplies are low—no, they’re non-existent. The crew are close to fainting, or even dying.”

His assessing gaze raked across her.

“So are you. We won’t make it back to Aldara alive.”

They were having this conversation now, then.

“Ignore him . . . keep sailing.”

She grimaced and wiped sweat from her brow. It was no lie that Kora had kept rooted to the helm lately, using it to steady her legs that swayed in time with the ocean waves. Once she’d realised they were running out of water, food, and grog, she was the first to ration her portions. She didn’t dare admit that all she’d eaten for three days were tiny nibbles of cured meats, the taste so bland she’d barely chewed, gulping down the contents to line the gnawing hole inside.

She couldn’t show any form of weakness. The first sign of it, she’d be removed from her position, losing the respect and authority she’d wrestled for under the scrutinous judgement of society.

“Are you sure it’s not what’s between my legs that’s stirring them?”

she asked saccharinely, distracting him from her quivering stance.

As the only female captain in the armada, Kora was a prize circus act to males—something she felt strongly about challenging as a captain. A small ember blazed within her at the vision in her mind of female captains leading an entire fleet. She’d poured her blood, sweat, and tears into clawing her way into the armada, and rapidly ascended to the empire’s best-ranking captain within two years.

Now, she needed to claw her way up higher, and avoid making any mistakes.

Just like the one she was making now.

Blake stilled, his eyes pointedly roaming her body, taking in her slender frame that was packed with muscle from working on ships. Not that she could feel the benefit. Her limbs were ready to give way any moment. Years of working on ships under the hot sun had imbued her freckled skin with a golden kiss, and his eyes skimmed across her rounded face, finally settling on her pouted mouth. Kora’s toes curled in her boots from his piercing stare.

Gods-damn it with that stare. It undid her every time.

He cleared his throat.

“I’d say—”

“Captain!”

She whipped her gaze northwards, to the top of the foremast, as a sailor frantically pointed ahead. Her eyes refocused on the horizon. Red sails peaked in the distance.

Thank the gods.

They’d found the pirates.