Page 48 of Daughter of the Dark Sea

Kora? You need to open your eyes.”

Kora groaned, nausea churning in her stomach.

“Wake up now, you silly child!”

Her eyes flew open. She knew that voice.

“Agatha?”

Her void-defying, glacial dome had not shattered like she thought, but thick, deep cracks lined the curve of the shimmering blue bricks. The light of her little protective world seeped through the glowing cracks into the nothing beyond.

And before her knelt Agatha. Kora stared in shock as Agatha leaned forward, her knobbly, aged hand taking Kora’s rippling liquid one.

She was real. She could feel her. Agatha was really here. And not only that—her sight had returned.

“Your eyes . . .”

she whispered.

Gone was the endless white, replaced with piercing black pupils and gleaming beryl irises. Every time Agatha blinked, a new colour appeared in her eyes, shifting from red, to blue, to yellow, and green, and so on. It was a stark contrast to the opalescent white and gold robes caressing her aged, withered body.

“Kora, you need to listen to me.”

Agatha’s comforting hoarse voice brought tears to her eyes.

“How are you here?”

she asked dazedly as she reached out to touch her grey braided hair, rubbing the course strands laced with silver thread.

“It’s not important. I’ve come to warn you, child.”

“Warn me?”

The dome shuddered and she yawned, sleep clutching at her, trying to drag her back down to its slumbered depths.

Agatha’s bony fingers clenched Kora’s jaw, forcing her to look at her, and she jolted in surprise that she was able to command her water humanoid form.

“Listen to me,”

Agatha pleaded.

“I don’t have long.”

“What . . . where are you?”

A distant feeling of panic stung the edges of Kora’s blanketed numbness, laced with a stomach-clenching nausea threatening to submerge the dome in a torrent of unbearable spinning.

“Do not trust them, do you hear me? You can only trust one person, and he’s right there.”

Her ever-changing stare glanced behind Kora, and she turned to find her lingering thread, in the shape of a figure, lurking beyond her dome. Ever waiting.

“No . . . no. I can’t, Agatha. I’m never letting him in again.”

She blinked drowsily, her eyelids scraping like sandpaper. What was wrong with her? The edges of her vision blurred. A cold blanket had been thrown across her mind, dulling her senses.

“How . . . do you . . . know him?”

the words stumbled from her lips, and she groaned as her vision darkened.

“Agatha . . . I don’t feel well.”

The cracks in her dome splintered, expanding into a webbed structure, every brick creaking around them.

“Trust me, Kora,”

Agatha whispered.

“Let him in, you need to do it—do it now.”

Reluctantly, Kora waved a hand, and her precious dome came crashing down. Before the shards rained onto them, they simply evaporated into little beads of blue smoke. The thread struck, poised like a serpent, wrapping around her form, winding, and winding.

“I miss you . . .”

the words echoed over and over, from Kora’s lips, as she descended into the darkness of the void.

The talisman was missing.

It was fucking missing.

Kora had turned the room upside down, ripping pillows from their covers, tossing bed covers across the room searching for the wretched thing. After thirty minutes, she collapsed by the side of the bed, panting.

It was gone. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was disastrous on epic proportions.

And with it, her water beast had died inside her. Even if she focused, she was met with cold absence. She attempted manipulating the water on the bedside—nothing. Agatha’s warning drifted through her mind. You don’t want it falling into the wrong hands.

Kora raked her hands through her short waves, her heart clanging against her ribs as she tried to recall the previous evening. It’d all become so hazy after her dance with Barron—what in the gods had happened? She didn’t remember returning to her chambers. Shock and shame still haunted her, along with a hangover from the pits of Umbra. Her scar thrummed along in time with her heart, and she groaned.

How could she lose it? She’d taken it off for one night, and she’d lost it. It had to be in this room somewhere . . . maybe if she disassembled the bed itself? She’d expected relief when her wish of disposing it had been fulfilled, but instead, all-encompassing dread smothered her, squeezing her diaphragm until she bolted for the bathing chambers, spewing last night’s wine.

After rinsing her mouth, she collapsed by the bed, shakily tracing the silvery beads of her ballgown discarded on the floor. Hiding beneath the dread, a sliver of grief wrapped in ice consumed her, devouring her organs until she was a husk.

It was lonely without her powers. She felt weak. She hadn’t realised how comforting the beast had been, a second skin protecting her, nurturing her.

“Kora?”

A gentle knock rapped at her door, and Blake peered around the door curiously. His forest green eyes raked in the tossed covers, pillows, and throws, and Kora crumpled on the floor, her hands fisted in the shimmering ballgown. His stare lingered on her for a moment, assessing the same way Erick did, before melting into an unwelcomed softness.

“I see you’ve made yourself at home,”

his drawl returned.

She didn’t respond, wouldn’t even look at him. She couldn’t handle this. Handle the lies. The deception.

“Be strong . . .”

the voice had returned.

Steeling herself, she stood to face him. She’d dressed ready for battle today, in the hopes it would strengthen her. Covered head to toe in black leathers, buckled together, along with her favoured blades hidden in their scabbards on her back. As much as she adored her sailing jerkin, she desired full-body strength and protection.

Blake cleared his throat, noticing her defensive stance. His thumb brushed a dark satchel slung across his shoulder. Odd. He rarely used a satchel, preferring to keep everything hidden in compartments in his leathers.

“We’ve been requested for a meeting.”

His demeanour was so soft, so gentle. She looked away, focusing on a fascinating speckle of gold on the stone wall.

“Kora,”

he stepped forward, shutting the door behind him with a sigh, then leant against the desk beside it.

“I know what you must be thinking, but please believe me.”

“What am I thinking?”

A clenched fist ran through his raven hair.

“That there's something . . . that I . . .”

He couldn't even voice the words, and for the first time, she looked at him with something close to disgust.

“That you're cheating on me with Bree?”

The words had been spoken. All her worries and concerns voiced into the world. He visibly flinched at them.

“I promise you, it’s not what you're thinking. She just needs someone—a friend.”

“I’m her friend! Or . . . I was.”

Venom laced her words. Venom not only at him, but Bree as well.

Why was she suddenly acting like this? Had their friendship for the past ten years meant nothing to Bree all this time? Did Kora’s vow with Blake mean nothing? Even if she’d been ready to give him up, she still planned to reconcile after the war, when they knew they had a true chance.

“I couldn’t let an heiress stagger back to her chambers drunk.”

Blake’s gaze sharpened, and she huffed in disbelief at his response.

“She was vulnerable, those sailors would’ve made advancements. If not for her bed, then her riches.”

She scowled. He did have a point, and Otto’s stern face flashed in her mind. Him and Rashi would rain thunder down upon her crew if anything had happened to their precious eldest daughter.

“What about me?”

she breathed, fisting her hands at her sides.

“I was vulnerable on that deck.”

He frowned.

“We both know you can take care of yourself when it comes to—”

“That’s not what I mean.”

He stilled, raising his hand before letting it fall limp to his side, as if he’d changed his mind about touching her. Blake’s fingers wrapped against the edge of the desk, his elbow knocking against the polished wax seals, and they wobbled on their heavy metal bases.

“I was giving you a choice,”

she spoke through clenched teeth.

“I was doing the honourable thing and letting you go. We both know I’ve been holding you back. Just for Bree to ruin it.”

The lack of commitment remark had stung so deep, it still reverberated in Kora’s mind.

Blake winced and exhaled.

“You were pushing me away, not letting me go. I’m sorry I broke my promise. With this war, I can’t be in service to you anymore. And Bree doesn’t know anything, I can promise that.”

In service? Was that what they were, then? A business transaction?

“Excuse me?”

“No,”

he raised his hands.

“Let me finish. I’m trying to tell you, that I could have left at any time, but I didn’t. I followed you everywhere. I went along with every crazy scheme, every impulsive voyage. Even when it seemed insane, you somehow always knew where pirates would be. But I can’t anymore. As you said, everything is changing.”

“Changing so much you’d rather chase after a noble?”

She laughed bitterly.

“Why are you fixating on her?”

He threw his hands up.

“You are my everything! I need to ensure we win this war, so we can be together! But I can’t do that whilst in your crew. And Bree is just a cover up. I’m not cheating on you. I’m just using her to divert attention from us!”

His eyes flared as the truth spilled from his lips. For a moment, she felt sorry for Bree, but it quickly surpassed as heat bubbled, erupting into a small ember in her chest. And not the fun kind.

“We are already together! At least, I thought we were. Apparently, you never thought the same. I have always been right here. But you never saw me, not really.”

He’d believed it was a service, their vow some kind of agreement, a means to an end. And parading with Bree was the final insult, both to Kora, and female-kind. Just because they were a fa?ade, didn’t mean he had to pretend to be with someone else . . . especially her best friend. There were plenty of single officers.

And to make it worse, Bree had fallen for it. So much so, she resented Kora. Their friendship broken. Kora had allowed a male—her blind devotion to a male—tear them apart.

His mouth gaped.

“What are you saying?”

She side-stepped around Blake, opening her door.

“When it comes down to it, it’ll never be me that you help, only yourself. Because this,”

she gestured between them.

“is never going to be real.”

“Wait—”

She slammed the door in his face.