Page 33 of Daughter of the Dark Sea

Are you okay?”

“What? Who is that?”

“Can you hear me?”

“Who are you? Where am I?”

Kora’s voice echoed around her—wherever she was. She was neither here nor there. Up nor down. There was no light, nor darkness. She just simply was. A being. An entity. An existence floating on the—on the what?

“What’s going on?”

Her voice was so loud it bounced around, vibrating into the absence of existence. Did she even have any lips? A mouth? How was she speaking?

“You need to keep moving.”

“I don’t think I even can,”

she scoffed. She had no body. She was part of the cosmos. The very breath, life, spark of the universe. Past, present, and future converged, flowing through this folded vacuum. This void. Her inner beast yawned, recognising the growing mystical power unfurling around her.

“Keep running . . . they’ll catch you soon.”

She tried her best to imitate a frown.

“Who’s chasing me? The rebels?”

“Your enemy is closer than you know . . .”

the voice began fading.

The rebels were close by—close by where? She was here, and nowhere else.

“No—wait!”

She couldn’t be left alone here. In this emptiness. Kora surged, delving deep into herself, beckoning that slumbering beast in a panic.

“Don’t leave me!”

she begged.

“I’m always here with you . . .”

The voice had a hint of sadness. It sounded so familiar, and its melancholy tone caused sorrow, guilt . . . shame to rise within her. Why did she feel so sad?

She tugged on the faint, lingering thread of the voice. Pushing herself to follow it through the ether. She visualised it as a burning, bright, white unbreakable string, and the harder she tugged, the more her water beast growled, scratching at the walls to be released.

The brightest blue light shone from her, taking the form of a rippling, water humanoid. The voice gasped in response, and she blinked as the thread shone brighter, almost blinding her.

“Remember.”

“I don’t remember,”

Kora’s voice cracked.

“I can’t remember you!”

She halted at her own words. Who was this voice? How did she even know that, at the end of the voice, there was a person to remember? Someone from her past, that was potentially alive? Or was the void playing tricks on her, haunting her with a ghost of her broken memory?

Why was it trying to force her to remember? Her past was forgotten. Gone. Inconsequential. She would never retain her memories. She needed to focus on her life of—wait. What was her life? Where was she? How did she get here?

“Who are you? Please tell me.”

Her liquid form bubbled from the overwhelming emotions roiling within her.

“Where am I?”

“Remember, and you’ll be set free . . .”

A force swept towards her, propelling her away from the white, burning lifeline she desperately clung to. Her water form dissolved, and she was once again a floating existence in the plain of the void. There was no sound, no air, no light. Nothing but inky, black darkness, as thick as tar.

And the enveloping scent of rain after a storm . . . and the sleek metal of weapons.

“Kora!”

She knew that voice.

“Kora, wake up!”

Her body violently shook as large hands bit into her flesh, and with a groan, her eyes fluttered open to Blake knelt over her, shaking her shoulders, his face panicked.

“Wake up!”

he snapped again. His emerald eyes blazed.

“I’m awake!”

Her voice came out raspy as she shoved him off.

Her face stung, and her body was stiff . . . and damp. She squinted against the blaring sun filtering through the flap of her tent. The air was already warm, and her short hair was plastered to her scalp with sweat.

“It’s the morning? Why did no one wake me for my watch?”

She stepped out of the tent. The camp had been packed away, the fire doused, and a large ship, with grand purple sails listed on the glittering, cold-blue ocean in the distance.

“What the fuck is that?”

Lethality dripped from her.

“The royal ship already arrived,”

Blake huffed as he began breaking down her tent with quick precision.

“We couldn’t wake you up. You slept through the whole night. I thought maybe you needed rest,”

he paused.

“But then you slept through breakfast, and through our early morning scouts. It wasn’t until I saw the sails that I came in to wake you.”

A sharp exhale followed.

“I even slapped you. Nothing was waking you up!”

Kora pivoted to regard him. The right side of her face burned, laced with a stinging sensation, and she fingered her cheek.

“I guess I needed some rest . . .”

Shock vibrated through her from her smarting cheek down to her feet. Blake had slapped her.

“You guess?”

His face was stricken.

“I thought you were dead at one point!”

She was taken aback by the quiver in his voice. Concern bared down on his shoulders, and his muscles tensed through his clothes. She reached for him, but quickly reared back as heavy footsteps approached. Samuel strode down from the palm trees lining the desert, with a bronze and brass spyglass in one hand, his face hardened like a boulder.

“I’m fine,”

she replied, gesturing to herself. Blake ran his sharp gaze over her with a frank assessment. It was so eerily similar to Erick’s observant eyes it made her shudder.

“They’ll be here soon,”

Samuel spoke as he stopped by her side.

“They’re not docking the ship. A boat with three men is rowing to shore, not the dock. I’d say thirty minutes tops.”

To the east sat multiple docking piers, where ships normally docked for travellers and shipments. It’d grown quiet over the past decade and was left unmanned. To the west, past the cliff faces, was King’s Guard Cove. An infamous port with a towering keep, used for transportation of prisoners to Deadwater Prison.

Samuel paused, raking his gaze over Kora’s dishevelled state. His humorous sparkle had diminished now they were to be joined by constituents of the royal family.

“Alright, Captain?”

“Just going to freshen up.”

She shot Blake a glare and snatched her leathers, running to the hidden rockpool. Her shirt already reeked with sweat, and she knelt by the pool of water, splashing it against her flushed, sticky skin before pulling her leathered layers on with a grimace.

Her hair curled around the nape of her neck and she soaked it with water, pushing the growing lengths back. Kora savoured the brief relief of coolness before seeing to her needs and trudging back to camp.

Aryn hovered by the horses, lining them up, and checking their saddles and bags were attached correctly. She noticed Cadence had been strapped with more saddle bags than the others.

“Who’s riding with who?”

Kora asked as the rowboat neared. There must be a reason Cadence was carrying the most load.

“I’ll take the sentinel,”

Blake replied quickly.

“They can take the two guards,”

he nodded at Aryn and Samuel.

“Eat this—now.”

He handed Kora a small rationing of bread, dried meat, and fruit.

“We all need our strength.”

She gobbled it down fast enough to not even taste it, and her stomach twinged in protest. The sun baked the dazzling, reflective stones of the shore as the dark wooden rowboat came to a stop. The wood scraping against the pebbles set her teeth on edge, and sweat dripped down her back from the mid-morning heat.

Three large, muscular males disembarked from the rowboat. They donned black and grey clothing, with fine silver vambraces, and thin, yet impenetrable, silver armour covered their shoulders, abdomens, and thighs. Impressive Azarian steel. Highly coveted, and highly sought.

Gods’ sake they’re walking targets.

An exquisite purple stag, with a four-pointed star between its antlers was emblazoned across their torsos and backs. The symbol for the royal Staghart family of Azaria. The Talmon Empire had a demurer version of the four-pointed star, signifying it as an extension and subsidiary of Azaria.

“I thought you said sentinels were academic,”

she hissed to Blake as the three males approached.

One had a large sword strapped to his back, whilst another carried an elegant black recurve bow. Aryn eyed him intensely. The third had two hatchet axes sheathed on either side of his thick hips.

Blake audibly swallowed in response as the males effortlessly strode across the pebbles. Kora was certain their muscular thighs were wider than her head, and a tremble overcame her at the sheer threat of them.

To the left, the archer’s long black hair flowed behind him, framing his pale skin. His facial features were sharp, long, and cold, with matching black eyes, and he bore the slenderest frame of the three.

To the right, the swordsman was the tallest of the three—even taller than Samuel. Dark pink disfigured skin snaked up his jaw, ending by his lips and ears, the colour stark against his light brown tone. His dark, thick hair was cut short, with matching stubble coating his wide chin. Despite his vibrancy, his hooded eyes were lifeless, the colour of dirt after death. He wore black, leather gloves. Gods, he must be sweating.

Blake stiffened, sizing up the swordsman, his own hand twitching over his golden cutlass sword. Which left the final one in the middle—who now stood directly in front of Kora.

The axe-wielder.

She craned her neck back at the towering mass of muscle. His skin was of the darkest chocolate, deep and rich, as were his eyes. His features were round and smooth, and his head was shaved. His hands, which rested on his dual silver axes, were covered in scars, with barely a centimetre of unharmed flesh visible.

“Which one of you is Captain Cadell?”

His voice was deep, and boomed with an authority that made Kora’s knees quake. His dark eyes swept over Blake, Samuel, and Aryn—not even acknowledging her presence.

She deflated at the question. They’d requested her—without knowing she was a female. Not only did the islanders think the captain of Hell’s Serpent was male, but so did Azaria. Erick’s mission to force her to blend in had worked better than he’d probably imagined. She bit the inside of her cheek at the disrespect and summoned her voice to her lips.

“I am.”

She sagged with relief at the strength in her voice.

“We’re here to escort you to Stormkeep Fortress.”

Kora gestured to her crew.

The three males finally looked at her and blinked with surprise. A blush crept onto Kora’s face at the weight of their stare, and she felt small as she returned it. Their eyes lingered on the scar covering the side of her face, and she resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at them.

“An escort,”

the swordsman snickered as his eyes greedily roamed over her chest.

“I can see why they let women join the navy here. Must be quite boring without some . . . entertainment.”

His voice had a slight lisp to it.

“Watch it,”

Blake threatened, but he winced at the word escort.

Kora could only imagine what kind of entertainment he meant, and she was certain it was the forceful kind. The axe-wielder raised a scarred hand, silencing his fellow swordsman.

“Excuse Callan. We don’t let him out much, he’s not used to seeing a woman fully clothed.”

He smirked, earning a glare from Callan.

“My name is Theron, and this is Ivar.”

Theron gestured to the archer to his right. Ivar tightly nodded, his mouth a thin, pale line, his arms crossed in front of him. Kora swallowed her irritation at Callan, and thanked Theron for the introductions, her palm sweaty as they shook hands.

“This is Blake Marwood, my first mate.”

Blake greeted Theron, ignoring Callan’s slimy grin.

“And Samuel Rommier, my sailing master. Aryn Di Largo—head of archers upon my ship.”

Ivar’s pit-dark eyes widened at the mention of Aryn.

“How long till we reach the fortress?”

Theron spoke frankly.

“Five days,”

Samuel replied.

“We stop every night to recover from the heat, and we’ll need to be on watch for exiles and rebels in the desert.”

He glanced at their weapons.

“Which shouldn’t be a problem.”

Indeed, they were all thinking the same thing. Big, scary guards from the continent.

“Your islands are so tiny,”

Callan sneered.

“Five days is nothing.”

“We may have to stop more frequently with the added riders,”

Kora chimed in, ignoring him.

They weren’t expecting three overly sized males to join them. Cadence would have to carry more supplies on her back to compensate. She glumly checked their faithful steeds, who all waited patiently under the shade of the waning palm trees.

When she turned back, Callan watched her with greedy intensity, his eyes unabashedly exploring her chest, down to her curved hips. His lips pulled back into another smarmy grin, and he winked at her. Ew. Her stomach churned, and she straightened her spine in response, holding her head high as Theron continued discussing the venture back to Stormkeep Fortress with Samuel.

“We were expecting a royal sentinel.”

Blake glanced behind the males to the empty rowboat.

Kora also cast her gaze towards the ship in the distance, expecting a second rowboat to deploy. These males must be the bodyguards, scouting the land for safety before the sentinel joined them.

“Oh,”

Theron smiled, his dark eyes sparkling.

“I am the royal sentinel.”