Page 32 of Daughter of the Dark Sea

Kora whipped her head to the direction of the sound. Heart hammering once again—she’d need to visit Koji at this rate—she placed the talisman under her shirt, the glow faded—thank the gods—and she scrambled from the rockpool to peer around the arching rocks.

Her sight strained into the darkness, and she held a bated breath as she listened intently for signs of someone watching her. In the distance, she could make out the campfire, the tents, and the horses. But where were her crew? Had one of them seen her and reported it to the others?

Her fingers fumbled over the laces of her boots, and she cursed as she tightened them in haste, severing her blood supply to her feet. Sprinting back to the camp, her heart lodged in her throat. Mouth turned dry. Her stomach knotted and writhed within her.

Please be there, please be there.

She’d rather face an attack from the rebels than discover one of her crew had seen her using magic. That she was a mage. A mage with a power that’d never been recorded in history. Agatha would simply die with glee when she found out.

As Kora neared the camp, she sighed with relief when she spotted Aryn propped up against Rayne’s broad pale back, tending to his longbow. The fire blazed, warming both archer and horse, and he tested the taut bowstring, his gaze full of targeted precision.

Samuel emerged from his tent, situated behind Rayne, rubbing his belly and belching deeply. His face twisted as he belched again, pounding on his chest. He paused at Kora puffing from her sprint and smiled sheepishly.

“Apologies, Captain.”

He patted his stomach.

“Something’s not agreeing with me.”

She casually waved her hand like she wasn’t petrified she’d been discovered and was about to be hanged from one of the palm trees.

“Not to worry, Sam. Nothing I’ve not seen before.”

Indeed, she’d witnessed her crew go through all manner of illnesses on months-long voyages—where they’d even had queues for the latrine after a bout of dysentery. Many ended up jumping into the sea just to clean the filth from their bodies.

She’d take that over facing a death sentence, though. Kora surveyed the small camp and her voice wavered.

“Where’s Blake?”

“Sulking.”

Samuel pointed towards the sea to their right.

Against the blackness of the ocean, an equally dark figure sat alone on the shore staring out at the fathomless expanse.

“Did you see anything over there?”

She motioned behind her towards the rockpool.

Aryn followed her pointed hand and his eyes narrowed. The dancing flames of the fire ignited the golden flecks in his irises and it intimidated Kora.

“No . . . why?”

“Did something happen?”

Samuel tensed, his hand clasping the sword at his hip.

“I-I don’t think so . . . I think the darkness is playing tricks on me.”

“It does that,”

Aryn’s voice lowered as well as his eyes, hidden beneath his thick lashes. She glanced at him curiously.

“Why are you wet?”

he asked without looking at her.

“I went for a swim,”

she replied dryly. Both males paused and glanced at each other with a certain look.

“You both could do with one,”

her captain’s tone surfaced.

Rayne huffed in response, and Aryn raised a brow, whilst Samuel glanced down at himself as if he could visually see the stench and dirt before grinning.

“You just want to see me with all my clothes off,”

he chuckled.

There was no denying they all absolutely reeked from the sweaty, hot journey. Before they could ask another question, Kora rolled her eyes and muttered about speaking to Blake, which shut them up, and she stomped over to his brooding pit by the sea.

With his back hunched over, Blake’s arms rested on his bent knees. A small lantern shone by his feet, casting shadows on his bowed head, hair covering his face. He sat just enough out of range of the sea water reaching him and the lantern.

Fine, she was happy to avoid the sea for a little bit, too. Calypso had given her enough jump scares already. She sat beside Blake, mere inches apart, and copied his exact position, letting her head fall forward, necking craning. After a few minutes of stony silence, her neck and back ached, the pebbles bit her bum, and she couldn’t stand being this near to him without being able to touch him. Even if he vexed her.

“How on earth do you sit like that?”

Kora groaned as she flexed her legs, rolling her neck with a wince.

“Helps me think.”

His words were short and flat.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking too much,”

she replied overly cheery.

“Don’t want that pretty head of yours breaking.”

Blake scoffed and lifted his head to stare at the night sky. The stars dazzling in his green eyes made Kora hitch a breath. It was like seeing a sparkling earth captured in those irises.

“Don’t try to be nice to me,”

he spoke gravelly.

“What I said . . . I,”

he paused and looked at her.

“I should never have said that to you.”

Kora snorted in response.

With a sigh, Blake stretched his legs beside hers.

“What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. I acted like a bilge rat to you. You’re my captain, Kora. More importantly, you’re my partner, and I know how hard you’ve worked. The stress of everything is starting to get to me. Too many things are at stake—you’re at stake. Perilous times are ahead. Too perilous for a—”

“A woman?”

Shame flitted across his face.

“I can’t lose you. Or let anything happen to you. I don’t know what would happen to me if I did. If I’d even live . . .”

Her heart swelled. She couldn’t imagine living without him either, not that she’d admit that. Instead, she smacked him across the arm, and he startled.

“You deserve that,”

she muttered.

“I suppose I do.”

“But maybe you can grovel some more.”

“Oh?”

A smile sparkled.

“Do you want me on my knees?”

Heat flashed, and she nodded.

“Apology accepted.”

Kora nudged her foot towards his, and Blake returned the movement till their booted feet touched, followed by their shins and knees. A shiver rippled through her, and she glanced at her first mate, nibbling her lower lip.

She considered telling Blake everything in that moment—about the forged letter upon Hell’s Serpent, the Skytor clan searching for a female, and Finlay’s involvement . . . and that the Mist was growing. She swallowed, one hand hovering over the talisman and opened her mouth—

“How was the rockpool?”

Blake asked.

Oh no, had he seen her? If he had, he wouldn’t have apologised. Her corpse would be buried in the desert instead. Her hand fell from her chest to the pebbled shore.

“Fine,”

she murmured.

“Felt good after the desert.”

Their eyes met and he shamefully glanced away, Kora mirroring his motion. He audibly swallowed as their romantic desert getaway drifted out into the dark ocean.

“I know something else that’d feel good,”

Blake’s voice lowered an octave, his familiar drawl returning, and Kora’s toes curled in her boots.

“Promises, promises,”

she smiled.

Perhaps they could still try to capture a moment of their original plan? But no way could they get away with sharing one of the tiny single-person tents—let alone trying to keep quiet. Following her trail of thought, he glanced to the camp, his eyes wandering over the tents. His mouth thinned. Gods-damn it, Erick.

“Then again . . .”

He exhaled as Samuel’s laughter floated towards them, clearing his throat, and capturing her gaze again.

“I want you to know that I’m honoured to have served on Hell’s Serpent.”

Hidden words lingered beneath. He wasn’t destined for the naval life. He was only there because she’d requested him, and Blake would follow her wherever she would go. Even if he was better suited to the armies. Except following her to the Silver Sister’s clan, which was why she’d have to leave him in Aldara.

Kora wasn’t even sure if she would return from Shannara—at least not in one piece, and guilt panged through her at the thought. At the secrets she was burying. So many secrets she felt like she was drowning in the waters lapping near her feet.

Her life was becoming a dangerous mix of mysteries and secrets.

One of her fingers brushed his as their hands rested near each other. A tentative, daring touch, and he softened at the gesture.

“Blake. I-I want to tell you that . . .”

She struggled to form the words on her lips, her tongue twisting.

“I know, my asterya. Someday, we’ll have the chance—the time—to unpack . . .”

he gestured between them.

“everything.”

Everything?

Everything.

She loosened a breath at Blake’s misunderstanding, their vow repeating in her ears. She still had time. Time to figure out Finlay’s past, and what the Skytor clan were up to. Time to master her power, and dispose of this talisman before it devoured her and her secrets. Time before the magical Mist consumed the world.

Time to figure out the voice on the wind guiding her.

Gods . . . it was a lot.

All in the month leading up to her twenty-fifth birthday.

“Kora . . .”

he withdrew as his next words washed over her like cold ice.

“with everything changing, I don’t know if I’ll be on Hell’s Serpent anymore.”

Just like that, the cracks in her carefully constructed world spread, splitting open.

“What do you mean?”

her voice was but a whisper.

Blake glanced away.

“I know that I promised you, but with the next round of Darkoning Trials approaching, it’s time for me to establish myself whilst I still can. There’s an opportunity in the army for me to become a commander. And I . . .”

he exhaled.

“I think I need to do this. Everything’s going to change soon. I need to make sure I’m in a good position before the chance passes by.”

Kora tried to swallow the hard lump in her throat. She couldn’t imagine Hell’s Serpent without Blake. It meant they’d spend days, weeks, months apart—maybe even a year.

“I’ll always be here waiting for you to return.”

The light in his eyes faded, and she continued nibbling her lower lip, the skin breaking beneath her teeth.

“I’m doing this for us. So that we’ll have a chance together. If I’m not your first mate anymore, we might be able to be together . . . properly. As commander, I’ll be able to protect you.”

Blake’s voice strained with the words, fighting to get them out.

“I need you in my life, asterya. But the islands will be changing, the gravity of the final unification is greater than we understand. I must do this.”

Kora saddened, her soul deflating. She shoved her selfishness aside, her screaming thoughts that she was going to be alone—all alone—in the vast seas. No one to be her mirror self. No one who’d understand her deepest, darkest fears and pains deeply seeded from the trials.

With a pinch of her leg, she forced a smile.

“Whatever you need to do, I’ll support you.”

She nearly gagged on the words.

Blake offered a small smile in return, relief oozing from him.

“Come,”

she pushed to her feet, Blake tracking her every movement with focused intensity. He gracefully stood, his dark presence towering over her, and a different kind of heat coursed through her. After a moment of silent smiles, they returned to the camp, where Aryn and Samuel regarded them curiously.

The small fire had been erected near the edge of the desert before the ground blended into the precarious pebbled shores. They’d discovered large palm tree logs, discarded from previous woodjacks passing through the area, to use as a seating area by the fire.

Palm trees decorated the edge of the desert as far as they could see towards the east, and to the west was the rising cliff face, with exposing dark, shimmering rocks overlooking the rockpool.

“Is the tantrum over?”

Samuel asked, seated on a log by the fire. Blake tossed him a glare.

“You’re getting a bit too mouthy for my liking,”

Kora remarked, as her and Blake sat down by the fire, keeping a foot of distance between them.

“Aye, you like my mouth just as it is,”

Samuel replied with a grey-eyed wink. Aryn shot him an incredulous look, whilst Blake tensed at the flirtation.

“What would Circe think to hear you say such things?”

Samuel’s flirting was harmless, it was his nature. He was the only male she’d tolerate it from, besides Blake.

“Why?”

Samuel’s eyes glistened.

“Has she asked about me?”

Aryn rolled his eyes as he sorted through his quiver.

“Who’s Circe?”

Blake asked, dark confusion clouding his face.

“A barmaid Samuel wants to marry.”

And a potential rebel sympathiser, and abetter of a secret organisation called the Skytors.

“Hands off, Marwood.”

Samuel saccharinely smiled.

Blake held up his hands innocently.

“She’s all yours.”

His gaze slid to Kora, and she tried not to squirm under the beckoning lust hidden in his eyes.

They settled against the logs surrounding the fire, and she stared at the black expanse of the ocean. The rolling waves and the salt-water air soothed her once again, helping her ride out the raging torrent of anxiety that’d been sinking its claws into her since Finlay’s death.

Aryn placed his longbow and quiver down, his attentive eyes scanning the area.

“What do you think the sentinel will be like?”

She shrugged. Another uppity, noble prick.

“I’m expecting a total lubber,”

Samuel sighed.

“He’ll just be some appointed know-it-all that’ll cower at the first sign of conflict. We’ll probably need to hold his hand back through the desert.”

“Royal sentinels are normally of the . . . academic sort,”

Blake mused.

“So . . . someone untrained in combat,”

Kora confirmed.

“We’ll have to be extra careful trekking back. I’m surprised no one’s noticed us. We were out there for five days.”

Five days of dry, uneventful tension.

“Especially with Sam’s singing,”

Aryn muttered quietly.

“Who’s to say they didn’t? They could be watching us now.”

Blake inclined his head to the looming darkness of the desert. She followed his gaze, glancing between the baying palm trees, searching for pairs of rebel eyes glowing in the dark.

“If I were them, I’d attack at our weakest.”

“Which’ll be when we have an extra person to protect,”

Aryn commented.

“We’ll be tired, hungry, and weaker on the journey back.”

“Whose idea was this?”

Samuel moaned.

Kora’s mouth curved.

“If that’s the case, then I’m going to retire now. I suggest you all try to rest as much as possible. Set up a rotation schedule, stay alert lads.”

“I’m taking first watch,”

Aryn announced, and he laid a hand on his longbow as if to say he’d shoot anyone who dared to come near. With his world-renowned precise aim, she wouldn’t be surprised if he could shoot in the pitch black and not miss.

“Wake me when it’s time to change,”

Blake replied sternly.

“We’ll take turns,”

she added.

“Samuel after Blake, and I’ll take early morning.”

They all nodded in agreement and retired to their individual tents—except Aryn, who nestled against Rayne. Fajra slept by his tent, with two blankets piled on top of her. Erebus slept beside her, their snouts pressed together, their black and white manes blending into each other.

Gods, even the horses were getting more romance than her.

Kora placed a thin threaded blanket over Cadence, gently stroking her silken mane before dipping into her tent. Blake had ducked into his own without so much as a goodnight—a painful reminder of their impending separation—and Samuel audibly belched from inside his own.

She curled up on the pitiful, thin sleeper mattress, grateful not to be able to feel the pebbles of Whitestone Bay digging into her skin. Her scar throbbed once again, and she regretted not packing a salve. Sleep crept on her swiftly, and she fell into a slumber as deep as the ocean before her, where no light could pierce her mind.

As if her dreams had been stolen from her.