Page 24 of Daughter of the Dark Sea

Night had fallen, the stars shone brightly, and the moon beamed a pale, glistening light across the tiled courtyard of Cadell Manor. Kora lingered beneath a large lemon tree, her cloak blending her into the darkness as she stood watch, fixated on the climbing wisteria of the eastern tower.

Lit lanterns, attached to the exterior walls of the manor, created soft amber circles, intermittently illuminating the grounds. Kora peered at the dark night sky and her eyes strained, seeking out the familiar twinkle of the stars.

Thanos, please let him be there, please be happy and resting, she prayed, closing her eyes. When they opened, she clasped her hand over her mouth, holding in a scream as a tall dark figure smiled down at her, the whites of his teeth visible in the night.

“Having a nap?”

Blake teased.

Kora swatted his arm.

“You scared me half to death!”

“Well . . . we certainly wouldn’t want that,”

his voice lowered, and a shiver ran through her as he stepped underneath the lush canopy of the lemon tree. He was so close their breath mingled in the chilled air, creating a gentle puff of smoke.

Blake cupped her cheek as he lowered his face to rest his forehead against hers. He inhaled deeply and released a sigh, steadying himself against her as she wrapped her fingers around his wrist, savouring his warmth. They stood for a while, holding each other, their breathing falling into synchronicity with their eyes shut.

“A lot is happening,”

he broke the silence.

“I’m worried I . . . I won’t be able to keep you safe much longer, asterya.”

“I can look after myself,”

Kora retorted.

“Things are changing, Kora.”

Blake’s emerald eyes turned as sharp as his tone.

“If the king is trying to finally become emperor, it could cause a lot of unease around here. On top of that, lower societies are rife with mutiny. Wenches and pirates are allying . . . Galen is returning to the world.”

She bristled at his words. She’d blocked the council’s decree of slaughter from her mind for most of the day, but the hallow orders flooded back. They were her orders. She would have to stoop low, as far as mindless execution, killing pirates, and rebels, and anyone associated with them.

That would make them no better than Galen. She favoured witnessing enemies suffer in the courts and trials, followed by serving their penance in prison. Death was only admirable in warfare when her own life was on the line.

“Surely the continent uniting us all is a good thing?”

Blake’s jaw twitched.

“Maybe not. We’ve been commanded and lead by the viceroys since the conquest. The king and his ancestors haven’t stepped foot on this land in decades. The viceroys have become comfortable here. The noble houses, too. Change may not be welcomed.”

“Such old, stubborn bastards. How’d you know this?”

“I have connections. Being a champion of the Darkoning Trials has its perks.”

He winked, attempting to lighten the mood, but Kora turned surly at the memory of failing to become the champion of the trials, finishing second in Blake’s shadow. He followed with a fluttering kiss to her cheek, and she waved him off with a small chuckle.

“You said there are mutinies?”

Blake nodded, his fingers trailing up her arms as he spoke.

“Since we’ve returned to Aldara, I’ve heard reports in the barracks that there’s been more resistance in the slums, Scarlet Bay, and the workhouses near Blackstone Reef. It stretches as far as the mining outposts in Talmon, as well. Pirates are liberating workers, and recruiting them to join their crew.”

She gasped. Had she murdered civilians of the Azarian Islands on board Demon Sea Siren? They’d taken a chance of freedom from the workhouses . . . only to be obliterated by her. Blake’s hands rested on her shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“If they join the crew, then they are pirates,”

he spoke firmly, reading the thoughts openly flitting across her face. Kora nodded once, painfully swallowing her guilt.

“Have you been to the lower district lately?”

“Why would I go there?”

His hands tensed on her shoulders.

“I have no reason to go.”

“Blake, your family. They could be involved in the resistance movements. They could be hurt or—”

“They’re not,”

he cut her off sharply.

“Don’t concern yourself with that.”

Kora stumbled back at the coldness of his words, and she scanned his face, but it’d smoothed out into cold indifference. At her withdrawal, Blake sighed, looking at the dried grass and soil beneath their booted feet. He flexed his fingers, and they brushed the dainty leaves of the mint bushes surrounding them.

“I’m sorry . . . I don’t like talking about it—about them.”

His hands quivered, and he took a step towards her. A low-hanging lemon gently bounced against his head, and he reached for the yellow fruit, his hand enveloping it as he snapped it off the branch. Blake held it out to her and she took it tentatively. It was much larger in her hand, and she was surprised by the heavy weight of it as she clasped the peace offering between them.

“I’m sorry for pushing,”

Kora murmured.

“I understand your past is difficult.”

Their eyes met, and the electrifying connection passed between them. They both possessed secretive, troublesome pasts that pained them. They both yearned for escape from the shadows haunting them, finding solace within each other’s arms.

A strong breeze drifted through the courtyard and the lemon trees groaned, thick green leaves falling from the gust and floating around Blake as his raven hair ruffled. She instinctively reached up, pushing his hair out of his dazzling eyes.

He leaned into her touch as the leaves caught in his hair and settled on his shoulders, making the green of his eyes blaze. He tugged her forward eagerly, and she dropped the large lemon, its fall cushioned by the grass. Her arms wrapped around his neck as his lips captured hers.

The leaves fell from his hair, tickling her, and she was enveloped in the swath of green nature. Blake deepened the kiss, backing Kora towards the trunk of the nearest tree, his hands reaching up to grasp the lowest branches, pinning her in the middle from all sides.

The trunk curved, moulding to her body. Its branches and shrouds of leaves closing in on her from everywhere, touching her skin. An earthy darkness scraped its talons down her back—or was she imagining it? Her muscles coiled as the threat of a wooden cage loomed.

Blake gripped the branches so tight his knuckles turned white, and he inhaled deeply, seeming to consume the scent of lemon and mint, savouring the moment. Kora knew instinctively he felt more at ease on land, within nature.

Just as he would feel more at ease as commander of the armies, instead of her first mate. But those words between them always laid unspoken. His future always shrouded in darkness, always uncertain. Always dependent on her. He’d repeatedly assured her he was content by her side, but with the king’s expansion . . . now she wasn’t so sure.

A flurrying trail of kisses dragged her from her thoughts.

Kora’s hands explored down the length of his chest, and brushed against his groin teasingly. Blake jerked at the sensation, causing another cascade of leaves around them and he smiled wickedly, a growl echoing from their rendezvous in the hallway. Her core ached, desperate for release, and heat rushed down to the apex of her thighs.

“I can’t get enough of you,”

he moaned, his body flush against hers.

The smell of lemon and mint coursed through the air, and she nipped Blake’s lip excitedly in the heat of passionate kissing. Gods, he was so handsome. She was so lucky to have found him, to be with him, through the horrors of losing her family, her memory . . . her life. She’d come out the other side, avenging her family one pirate at a time, with Blake supporting her the whole way.

She would be dead without him. Dead in the barren pits of the Darkoning Trials. Dead at the bottom of the ocean in Davy Jones’ Locker after warfare with pirates. She wouldn’t reside in the spirit realm of Umbra with her lost loved ones or Finlay. Not after everything she’d done. Not after killing innocents onboard Demon Sea Siren.

Jack was right—she was a murderer.

“Are you here with me?”

Blake reared back, stroking his thumbs across her cheeks as her mind soared.

No better than a filthy pirate. No better than the killers of her family. She didn’t deserve to be captain. Not really. She didn’t deserve the friendship Finlay had offered. Didn’t deserve the towering male before her who would follow her to the ends of the earth. Kora’s heart clenched, her throat constricting with overwhelming emotion and a familiar throb in her head.

Water splashed in the distance and she froze.

“What is it? Is someone coming?”

Blake scanned the courtyard.

She risked a sideways look towards the trickling fountain. Puddles of water soaked the tiled floor, stretching across and blending into an oblong shape, reaching in their direction. As if it had been crawling towards them.

“No—nothing. I thought I heard something.”

Blake’s eyes swept over the fountain and training grounds through the archway before he pulled away, and Kora’s skin pimpled at the chilled air between their now separated bodies. He rotated his arm on his wounded side and winced.

“Are you still hurt?”

“I’m still healing. I’ll be fine for the journey.”

He tapped his side lightly. It was remarkable how quickly he was healing, considering how badly he’d been sliced open by his own sword. Lucky bastard.

“By the way, we were personally asked for this escort of the sentinel.”

Her brows raised in surprise.

“Who requested us?”

Her real question lingered beneath—who’d requested her, a female, to escort the royal sentinel? The royal hound, more like. Come to sniff about their business.

“A viceroy in the Citadel. It was all Erick would say.”

“Our reputation precedes us,”

she mused. They had certainly made an impact at the trials as a combat duo, and now as leaders of Hell’s Serpent. Despite her annoyance at being grounded upon land, she thrummed with the thrill of importance. If she nailed this escort, it would be another rung climbed on the ladder to admiral.

“It seems so.”

Blake’s lips quirked with amusement, but quickly faded as a light flashed on in the lower levels of the manor.

“I must go. They’ll notice something amiss in the barracks if I’m gone too long.”

Kora swallowed her disappointment. They would have ten days together soon, but then she would have to find a way to sail to Shannara without Erick knowing, and without Blake at all. He’d be gods-damned before he’d let her sail to the witches’ territory. Guilt joined disappointment, and she loosened a breath before the emotions devoured her completely.

Blake mistook her sigh and placed his hand on the base of her neck, his thumb stroking up her throat.

“I’ll see you the day after tomorrow, my asterya. Then we’ll have five days alone together.”

His eyes glinted as a sly smile stretched his face.

“We can do whatever we want in the desert.”

“Why not tomorrow?”

Kora clamped down on her whiny tone. Five days alone with him was exciting, a real chance to explore who they were together. And a chance to finally unite intimately before she had to leave. But her ache burned so viciously she wasn’t sure if she could wait till then.

“The captain of the barracks has requested I sit in to oversee training of the latest recruits before I disappear again.”

Blake feignedly smiled.

As the champion of the trials, and an excellent swordsman, he was regarded as a fine soldier and commander of armies. Yet he chose the naval military as his career, all so that he could be closer to her. It didn’t prevent officers grabbing his attention whenever they made port, to participate in training cadets, and approving strategic plans for the empire’s armies.

Kora offered a small smile.

“The day after tomorrow then.”

“At first light.”

Darkness. Shadows. Fear.

She writhed in the bed. White silk sheets clung to her sweat-flushed skin. They wrapped around her like a coiled, slimy snake.

Out. She had to get out.

That thing lurked in the doorway to the chamber. Opulence of gold and moss covered every stone wall, every crevice.

She shouldn’t be here.

Anywhere but here.

Her vision narrowed . . . tunnelled. Black encroaching on the corners of her sight. Her breathing caught in her throat as she screamed at the brush of hesitant, shaking fingers against her head.

Burning. Fire. Pain.

So much pain.

“She’s dying!”

a strong voice pierced through the veil of agony smothering her.

“The healers are on their way,”

the pillar of darkness spoke. A booming, yet chilling voice.

Wet. She was wet. Her long hair was plastered to her head and neck. Red. Why was it red?

“We can’t lose her,”

the warm, strong voice echoed through her mind. Cold. She was so cold. His fingers pushed her hair back carefully and she moaned in pain.

“She’s fading quickly, she’s leaving this realm.”

The living statue of darkness spooled into the room, searching, reaching. It crawled up the bed, tentatively teasing around her body.

Get out.

Run.

“Go away,”

she rasped.

Her lips were cracked and dry. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Tired, so tired. The bright welcome of the gods lurked nearby. Maybe if she just closed her eyes and rested for a moment, she could gain the strength to fight back.

“I’ll see to it that she doesn’t.”

The darkness began enveloping her, wrapping around her head, sinking into the gaping wound by her temple, which was padded and stuffed with blood-soaked gauze. She endlessly screamed. A chilling, blood-curdling sound.

Out. Out. Out.

A pair of strong hands held her down, tying her hands to the corners of the wooden headboard whilst she convulsed from the invasion of her mind. Her soul. Her essence.

Get home. Run home.

Her mind was sawn in half. Inky black tendrils snaked across her dazzling surface. A flare of agony—snap.

Home. Get home to—who?

Remember—what?

Get out of my—who was she?

Searing pain lashed through the side of her head. Darkness swept over her . . . her mind went utterly blank.

Peace. Floating. Calm.

“I’m sorry,”

the warm voice whispered near her blood-streaked face.

“I’m so sorry,”

his voice cracked, broken with tears leaking from striking brown eyes.

“She won’t be going anywhere now. Keep an eye on her.”

The darkness slithered away from her and through the open golden doorway.

Her eyes fluttered open for a moment.

“Who are you . . . where am I?”

she croaked with dryness.

The male sobbed, telling her she was home. This was home. Home.

The tunnelling vision devoured her as healers frantically poured into the room, and she fell into a blank unconsciousness. No memories. No dreams. No past to relive.