Page 42 of Daughter of the Dark Sea

Kora wrinkled her nose at the smell of the disinfectant salve as Koji Sanatorre lightly brushed his fingers over the burn marks across her chest and arms, smothering her skin in the cooling gel. Behind him, Blake paced around the med bay, running his hands through his damp, raven hair.

“I can’t believe it . . .”

he exasperated.

“Galen are back.”

Koji gently hummed as he inspected her head. A small smattering of blood stained her white hair, and she winced as his bony fingers probed the wound with the eye-watering herbal salve. Gods that stuff reeked.

“Their return has been foretold for some time,”

he murmured quietly, his golden slanted eyes growing distant, the lines in his aged face creasing into deep thought.

Blake paused in his pacing and eyed the ancient healer. For a moment, his emerald eyes burned with green fire, and Kora bit her lip. He was growing more irate the closer they sailed to the Citadel, and she didn’t have the capacity to ease his mood swings.

Koji inspected her bandaged arm, tutting at her poor job of patching it up. The rope had narrowly missed her wound from the exiles in the desert. Maybe she deserved all these battle wounds.

“That’ll do,”

he continued, oblivious to Blake’s increasing temper.

“No more fighting,”

he scolded, and shuffled out of the med bay with his medical bag in tow, seeing to the remaining crew on deck. Kora’s heart squeezed as the memory surfaced of Finlay following Koji around after their battle with Demon Sea Siren. That squeeze quickly frosted as she remembered his lies.

Whilst she’d been unconscious, they’d sailed after the Galenite warship and pirate lords. But they had sailed faster than the wind, according to her crew, escaping into the Mist. And no fucking way were they sailing back into that.

“We anticipated this would happen.”

Kora shrugged her shirt and jerkin on, her jaw clenching against the sting of the fabric on her rope burns.

“This confirms they’re allied with the pirates.”

She hooked her talisman over her head, securing it beneath her uniform, and it flared in response for a moment, morphing into its evolved shape. The continuous, warm, gentle hum of power returned.

“They . . . they nearly took you from me,”

Blake choked, his eyes so wide they nearly bulged from his sockets.

Kora tentatively reached out to hold his calloused hand, and he shuddered as their skin touched, fiercely pulling her towards him and placing his forehead against hers as he cupped her face. She jolted at the contact, and her mind flashed to Callan groping her—violating her—with his disfigured hands.

“War is coming, asterya,”

Blake warned.

“Galen attacked us. The pirates are allied with them. Rebellions in the lower districts. They want to see us fall.”

She squeezed her eyes shut against his words. They were painful to hear—to acknowledge.

“We’ll be together throughout all of it,”

she murmured back.

“We’ll survive.”

Together, until they went their separate ways. She bit her tongue, holding back the words. A mountain of secrets clawed up her shoulders, hooking its claws into her mouth and stretching her pained smile.

For a moment they stood, breathing in each other’s scents, using each other’s strength to steady themselves. She breathed through waves of memories, reminding herself it was Blake touching her. His hand fell to her throat, his thumb brushing her thin skin, and her pulse fluttered beneath his touch, her nerves flayed.

Kora whispered in awe into the quiet of the med bay.

“We went into the Mist.”

He withdrew his hea.

“So . . .?”

“Jack said the Mist was controlled by a man—”

“Don’t believe a word from that pirate,”

Blake’s gaze darkened.

“Magic doesn’t exist, Kora.”

“What happened with the Mist was unnatural.”

She stepped back.

“Almost as if it chased us.”

“It’s just the weather,”

he sighed.

“It doesn’t mean anything. Shaurock Sea always has bad storms, you should know this.”

He glanced at the space between them, and she averted her gaze from his sharp stare. His jaw ticked in response as she clutched her body, shoulders hunching inwards. A chill swept through the room and she shivered. So tired. She was so gods-damned tired.

“What are you saying? Do you believe in magic now? Do you believe the word of pirates?”

Blake spat the final words out and she flinched at his tone.

“Ahem.”

Erick filled the leaning doorway of the med bay, and Kora sagged with relief as he stepped into the room, his warm eyes narrowing on Blake’s rigid stature.

“Commodore,”

Blake bowed, hiding his clenched fists behind his back.

“We’re just—”

“You’re dismissed,”

Erick waved a hand, his eyes frosting. Kora turned her head away at Blake’s incredulous stare.

“Apologies, Commodore . . .”

Blake’s throat bobbed.

“If I have done anything—”

“Marwood, don’t make me repeat myself.”

Erick’s hand rested on his sword’s hilt.

“I’d like to be alone with my daughter.”

Kora closed her eyes again, pressing her lips together to prevent them from trembling. She distantly heard the door shut, and her legs gave way as she sunk to the cot. Erick sat across from her, the adjacent cot creaking under the weight of his dark armour.

“I’m sorry . . .”

her voice cracked.

“What are you sorry for?”

Erick frowned. His sodden green cape sprawled across the rickety cot, and water dripped onto the wooden floor. The consistent drip, drip, drip soothed her enough to speak.

“I-I froze. I failed. I let them board my ship, I let them . . . they . . .”

She hung her head in her hands as emotions bubbled to the surface.

“Galen returns and I . . . I can’t . . .”

She gasped as tears sprung in her eyes, cascading down her freckled cheeks. Great, all she did now was cry. It was exhausting.

“I don’t understand!”

He placed a gentle hand on her knee and his warmth radiated through her clothes, all the way to her bones. His wavy hair hung limp, and the grey strands were stark against the darkness of the med bay.

“Theron is safe. Talk to me, Kora. What happened?”

“The Mist. I . . . we went into it.”

A shuddering breath wrecked through her.

“Well, more like the Mist took us . . . swallowed us whole. It was so strange. It made me feel so . . . sad.”

She hadn’t been able to get the male human voice out of her mind since, where it repeatedly circled like water down a drain, the voice swirling around and around. Who was he? Did she know him? Why did his voice make her want to cry? Make her want to scream. Make her want to cleave the Mist in two.

“What did you see?”

Each of Erick’s words were clipped.

“Nothing . . .”

“Did you hear anything? Was anyone there?”

She frowned as he leaned forward, his hands gripping her forearms urgently, pulling her hands from her face.

“Kora, did you see anything?”

“What? No—there was nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

He searched her face, his warm hands tightening, the sensation causing anxiety to flare deep within her.

“You can tell me.”

“Yes! Let go of me!”

Erick glanced at his own grip in surprise and released her. Exhaling a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Do you know something?”

Kora clasped her trembling hands together. He’d always been wary of the Mist, always ordering her to stay away from it. Forbidding her to sail near it.

He shook his head in response.

“No. Do not go near it again.”

He stood, his face taut, motioning for them to leave.

“My ships will follow and protect you the rest of the way to the Citadel. We can’t risk them sailing out of the Mist again.”

“Thank you.”

She breathed in the comfort of Erick.

“Why did you come? How did you know that we’d need . . . help.”

Each word was forced in reluctant admittance. Gods help her.

“I had a feeling.”

“You were so brave.”

Bree fluttered her lace fan, her golden jewellery sparkling in the late-afternoon sun peeking through parting grey clouds. Kora leaned against the edge of her ship, one hand gripping a shroud rope to keep her sanity intact.

“Well, it was a team effort.”

Blake grinned as he nodded at Kora.

“I’d be dead if wasn’t for my Captain.”

You and me both.

Bree cast a sideways glance at Kora, her forest-green skirts swishing across the drying obsidian deck as she swished closer to him.

“But you sacrificed yourself for her. Such an honourable man.”

Bree pursed her lips.

“A real captain stands up for their crew.”

Kora’s hand tightened so much she was sure she’d have to visit Koji again for more off his off-putting salve. Almighty Thanos, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this stupid fa?ade up.

“Marwood, Cadell.”

Theron appeared with Ivar.

Bree excitedly fanned herself at their presence, yet Theron’s dark gaze trained on Kora. When Ivar’s slinking form hovered a step behind Theron, his near-black eyes lingered on Bree for a moment, his throat bobbing, before scanning the horizon.

“I need to discuss our arrival at the Citadel.”

Theron jerked his chin at her quarters.

“Especially after recent events.”

“Of course.”

Blake bowed farewell to Bree, taking her hand in his and placing a delicate kiss on the back.

Kora averted her gaze, swigging her waterskin to settle the rising nausea. Gods, she wished it was grog. She needed a vacation, preferably on an isolated island, with barrels and barrels of rum. And sea biscuits.

“Fill me in later,”

she exhaled, her eyes glued to the calm, glittering azure ocean.

Blake opened his mouth to argue but Theron replied.

“Take whatever time you need, Captain. Rest is important.”

The formal address warmed her chest, and she bowed to Theron, her white hair falling across her face, shielding her inner pain. At least Theron understood she needed just five minutes of quiet.

Bree snapped her fan shut and flicked her braids over her shoulder as the males disappeared into Kora’s quarters, their steps heavy and their shoulders low. It’d been a rough journey.

“You think he’s not good enough for me,”

Bree quipped as they inhaled the crisp, northern salted air. Oh, good. So, she wasn’t getting her five minutes of silence, after all.

Kora raised a questioning brow.

“Blake. I’ve seen how you are when we’re together. It’s clear you don’t approve.”

Kora sighed.

“Yes. I don’t think he’s good enough.”

Because he’s mine.

“I hope I can convince you otherwise.”

Bree placed her smooth chocolate-toned hand on top of Kora’s sun-kissed scarred one.

“You’re my best friend. I want you to be happy for us.”

Kora swallowed her tears, her fear . . . her secrets. Her carefully constructed life was slipping through her fingers.

“We’re nearly home!”

Bree gleefully announced, pointing to the cluster of small islands in the distance.

“Aye!”

Samuel yelled from the quarterdeck.

“Calypso Islands port side!”

She peered at the smattering of palm trees, sandy beaches and caves creating the Calypso Islands. This far away, it looked like a brown and green rock drifting on the northern Shaurock Sea. The islands were the first sign ships neared Talmon Island.

“My father would tell me tales of Calypso.”

Bree’s eyes sparkled at the islands.

“The goddess Calypso?”

Kora was sure her ears were stuffed with seaweed. Why would a noble know the Devanian legends?

“She was beautiful, and desirable. Her hand maidens were mermaids she created from the bowels of the ocean, and then Kaiah—the earth god—gifted her the islands for her mermaids. He loved Calypso, so he made lands in her oceans so they could always find each other. Always be together, and not cleaved apart by their own elements.”

Yearning filled Bree’s sigh.

“I’m surprised your father told you such stories,”

Kora spoke quietly.

She’d read the same tales in Agatha’s tomes—about the creation of their world, and the four elemental gods that ruled unchecked. Moulding and shaping the waters and lands until it became Devania. The kingdom of the divine. And how divine it’d been for thousands of years. Until the gods disappeared, magic along with them, hundreds of years ago.

And man came to rule.

Now it was Azaria. Kingdom of humans, murderers, and pirates. All achieved through the two-hundred-year-long Devanian Conquest that ended over fifty years ago, just for the Galenite War to take its place.

“He believes it’s important to know the history of our enemies. Of their fables of magic and gods. I just think it’s so romantic.”

“Sure,”

Kora mused.

“A story of romance and mystical creatures.”

She wriggled her fingers in the air.

“You laugh now, but I’ve heard there’s a prophecy. From the witches.”

“How do you know what the witches are prophesising?”

“Just listen!”

Bree smacked her arm.

“The witches say the gods will choose someone who will bring forth prosperity to the land, and defeat the evil that lurks, restoring the gods’ home to what it once was. They will have unimaginable power—power of the world itself.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“I think it’s fascinating,”

Bree’s bright blue eyes devoured the ocean.

“Imagine if it were true. Someone chosen to defeat the pirates and the rebels. It couldn’t mean anything else.”

“Well . . . it’s just stories. Only the king has that kind of power,”

Kora swallowed her lies. That prophecy hadn’t been in any of Agatha’s readings or teachings, meaning it was new. And somehow, Bree knew it.

A horn sounded behind them and Kora whirled in alarm, her eyes frantically searching for those gleaming white sails that stole her breath away. The Burning Dragon sailed beside them. It was larger than her ship, with intricate flame detailing, luscious green sails, and a vicious dragon figurehead. Its maw was wide open, and lined with razor-sharp teeth made of malachite stone. At full capacity, the ship housed up to six hundred sailors—far more than her two hundred.

Erick stood at the edge and, with one leap, he swung from his ship to Kora’s, landing with a grunt as he straightened his knees.

“Erick?”

She hurried over, with Aryn materialising at her side. Bree hung back, her stare wide.

“Commodore,”

Aryn dipped his head and Erick carefully regarded him, the lines of his body tense beneath his armour. He turned and waved to his ship, and another horn blasted through the gentle breeze.

“I’m sending my ships ahead to scout the final part of the route.”

A messenger hawk circled the top of the main mast of The Burning Dragon as it angled away from Hell’s Serpent.

“I’ve just received a missive from the Citadel.”

His face was grave as he clutched the missive, its golden wax seal broken, staining the paper.

“What is it?”

“Galen has declared war.”

Erick’s brown eyes were panicked, and Kora’s heart pounded. He was never panicked. He was always the calm, observant one.

“They’re coming, Kora. Galen is going to attack the Citadel.”