Page 22 of Daughter of the Dark Sea

They had two days before they had to trek across Aldara to Whitestone Bay to meet the royal sentinel. The journey was five days by horseback, and five days back. Enough time before Kora could return to her cherished Hell’s Serpent. Erick’s sardonic tone had made her suspect her ship wasn’t being repaired for two weeks, but he’d used it as a means to ground her to escort the sentinel. Otherwise, she’d have set sail this morning, fleeing to waters that greeted her with open arms, and soothed her scarred soul.

Blake pulled her into one of the shadowy alcoves of the many hallways of the manor. He shifted a metal plant stand that was overflowing with fern leaves, shielding them both from prying eyes. She tugged him into her embrace, their lips clashing, and a shudder vibrated through him beneath her touch.

Kora clung to his body, her hands sweeping across his shoulders and down his arms, entwining with his fingers. Yes. His thumb brushed along her knuckles, clasping her hands to his chest as he planted kisses along her jaw and down her neck.

She needed this. Needed him. After so much death and despair from their latest voyage, she needed that spark of life that sizzled between them. Needed his kisses to imbue her with his strength.

She needed to forget. Even just for a moment.

Heat sparked between her thighs and she jolted, knocking into him. “Sorry,”

she whispered, and he hissed, wincing as her fingers brushed his wounded side. Blake’s gaze darkened and he pounced, the pain seemingly spurring his lust. He fisted her hair, craning her neck as his tongue caressed her mouth with desire. His moans echoed into her skull, and Kora’s hands travelled below his waist, brushing the hard bulge growing.

“Fuck,”

he choked.

She smiled against his mouth, a giggle escaping her. Erick was still in the parlour down the hall, and the defiance caused the heat in her to blaze, wetness pooling beneath. She teased Blake’s belt, and he jerked as she brazenly cupped his cock.

“Asterya,”

he growled.

“Keep touching me like that and the servants will have to clean this floor.”

“Maybe I want you to lose control.”

The words slipped from her mouth.

Blake’s stare captured her, wreathing a chill skittering down her spine. He was always calm, always controlled, always collected. She wanted him as unravelled as her.

“Trust me, you don’t want that.”

He unfurled from her body, checking the hallway for servants before straightening his shirt.

“We need to be careful. If Erick saw us, he’d never let me within an inch of you again.”

She nodded, uncomfortably wet between her legs, a passion unfulfilled cresting within. Blake peered at her, his gaze travelling downwards, darkening with desire. Damn it, Erick.

“Tonight. Meet me tonight. In the courtyard.”

He reluctantly peeled away before she could answer, and quickly snuck through the winding hallways of the manor, returning to the barracks before Erick spotted him.

The scent of leather and petrichor lingered on her clothes as Kora stormed into her chambers, atop of the eastern tower. It was the only colourful room in the entire manor—Erick had succumbed to her every demand and whim for her sacred space.

What about green? It’s more . . . fitting.

I hate green—no. This is what I want.

I just think that maybe it’d be better for you if—

I have amnesia Erick. Just let me have this.

A white domed ceiling connected to curved light-blue walls, meeting a terracotta tiled floor covered with sprawling blue rugs. A tunnelled passageway on the left led to the bathing chamber, and windows covered the curved wall to the right, her large bed nestled between them.

Trunks, full of history and fiction books—and weapons—were dotted about, along with an armoire, vanity table, and partitioned dressing area. Multitudes of candles burnt down to their wicks, wax spilling over the silver holders and melted onto the oak tops of her beside tables.

By the base of the nearest bedside, a cluster of wisteria and ivy leaves littered the floor. Opened green shutters lined the window above, and upon further inspection, the lock had been smashed open. She had climbed through the window last night. What a stupid idea that had been.

Kora followed the trail of leaves to her bed, and she gingerly touched the covers.

Dry.

She looked at the ceiling, where the curved arches of the dome met in the centre. A lone, eight-pointed, golden star hung from the centre, with golden rings banding the points together, a single jewel in its heart. No mysterious water floated up there.

Had it all been a dream?

And to think Erick tried enforcing the empire colours in here. She was sick of being surrounded by green and black. It felt too oppressive . . . too . . . she frowned, scratching her cheek. A shadow of a memory curled in her mind, shrivelling away before she could grasp its coils.

Keeping her gaze trained onto that very spot in the ceiling, she fell back onto the bed, a whiff of mint wafting up from her white covers. The talisman hummed against her flesh and she fished it from under her tunic. Oh gods. It was changing shape. It was still half gleaming teal, and half shimmering midnight, but the teardrop-shaped end had twisted, the spiral columns merging, taking on new, complex patterns. In the heart of the pendant, a subtle blue glow sparkled.

Kora tore the necklace over her head in a panic, hurtling it across the room, where it landed with a thud behind a trunk. Her heart fluttered as the blue hue died, fading into nothing. Alarming coolness crept through her bones, and she flexed her fingers as her joints oddly stiffened. The slumbering force within her slowly settled, blanketed with numbness, and she shakily ran her hands over her face.

She was insane. Utterly insane.

She should throw it away. Should smash it to pieces, and then bury those pieces so far away, in different locations so that they could never be recovered. Because, if she was caught with this charm, she would be hanged in an instant.

Magic was a threat to the kingdom. It couldn’t be controlled.

Magic was destructive. It was deadly. It was temptation.

It was lust. It was greed. It was divine. It was beautiful.

She needed to know more . . . see more.

Nibbling her lip, Kora hesitantly approached the wooden trunk, leaning over to glimpse the talisman. It had returned to its original form—a darkened-night shade of blue, and teardrop shaped. She picked it up, examining it. Had she imagined that, too? As her fingers gently traced the columns, a jolt of energy flew through her skin and, before her eyes, the talisman shone and moulded itself. Morphing.

Kora gasped as its dual colour returned, the end sharpening, twisting, evolving. Her core raged, as if it were reaching out to her. Hungrily. Her mind blanked, drowsiness sweeping over her eyes.

Instinctively, she placed the talisman back over her head, guided by an unknown force. The blue hue shone as she gracefully strolled to the window, her mind overwhelmingly empty. Except for a tiny scream, tearing from the depths of darkness of her broken mind. She couldn’t feel her body, and her control evaporated as she watched through her own eyes with horror.

Wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup.

Her arm raised, stretching, reaching to the sky with her palm flat out, and the waters of the fountain bubbled and rippled. She couldn’t force her arms down. An invisible puppeteer was pulling the strings.

The ripple swelled, and the minty clear water trickled over the side, floating through the air. It trailed up the wisteria, twisting and turning, writhing with an unnerving aliveness before it latched onto Kora’s palm, coiling around her arm like a vice.

It travelled and grew, until tendrils of water were snaking and circling all around her body, creating a shimmering clear armour as her uncontrolled body stared mindlessly out through the window. Dark spots dizzied her vision as she screamed from within her mental prison. This can’t be real. No. She’d thought last night had been a dream but . . . it was real?

Was she a mage? No. It had to be this thing around her neck.

“Remember,”

her mouth spoke, but it was not her voice. Kora cried from within, begging to be released from inky hands clasping at her soul.

“Remember,”

it repeated with urgency. Suddenly, she fell, plummeting in an endless dark void. Her feet struck the sturdy terracotta tiles, the air of the open window graced her palm, and the coolness of the water circled her and rushed at her senses.

With a shuddering breath, as if she’d broken through deep water, her arm limply fell to her side and the water splashed to the floor, soaking into her rugs. Gaze transfixed on the fountain, she released a small, terrified sob as she placed one hand over her hammering chest. Over the dimming light of the talisman.

Utterly insane, indeed.