Page 5 of Daughter of the Dark Sea
The shattered remains of Demon Sea Siren surrounded Kora. Swaths of royal-blue sails shredded into ribbons trailed in the sea, entwining with the limbs of scattered bodies. It reminded her of mermaids, swimming in the ocean depths, dragging sailors to their demise in the dark seas.
Panels of wood were torn clean off in the hull, courtesy of her crew’s deadly cannon fire, and the entire bowsprit and masts were blown to pieces, along with the main deck. Only the quarterdeck and the captain’s quarters remained intact, arrows and lancers’ spears decorating the once-remarkable woodwork. She admired her crew’s handiwork, and the sheer force and might of Hell’s Serpent.
The pirates’ attempt to replicate her ship irritated her. No one could impersonate Hell’s Serpent—or her. Kora’s reputation was as a cold, fearless captain, accompanied by an even colder and brutal first mate with an annoying drawl.
She was also a highly sought-after pirate-hunter.
She kicked debris and rocks out of her path as her crew picked their way across the hold, scavenging for supplies and survivors. Why would pirates impersonate a pirate-hunter? It didn’t make sense. Kora’s notoriety made her a target in the open ocean, away from the safety of the islands—something Erick incessantly fretted about. The meeting was strange, too. Two ships were a surprise, but not uncommon . . . but five, and in their centuries-old homeland? That was suspicious. Pirates were solitary creatures, driven by greed and lust. They’d kill each other if it resulted in a reward.
And why did they sail into the Mist?
Sailors collected arrows and spears still intact to stock up their artillery, whilst others rummaged for ration supplies. A cheer sounded in the distance and Kora smiled, her mind clearing—they’d found grog that’d survived the battle. After what felt like hours, they’d salvaged grog, water, and food—enough to last the two hundred sailors aboard her ship the weeklong trip home with minor rationing.
Blake summoned Kora to a golden weapons chest. He brushed away the rocks and debris coating it with a grunt and flipped open the unlocked lid, which was embedded with gleaming moonstones and pearls. High-level-grade cutlass swords, daggers, and an ancient-looking claymore greeted them. They were expertly crafted, and better than anything she’d seen in Aldara.
“Where did they find these?”
Goosebumps pimpled her flesh as she fingered the curved, sharp edges of one of the gleaming silver daggers. Swirling silver patterns embellished the hilt, the continuous, evolving shapes connecting to an unfamiliar archaic symbol etched into the star shaped pommel. Blake knelt beside her and studied the chest’s contents with brisk attention.
“I don’t recognise these weapons, or the symbols.”
Kora reluctantly placed the beautiful dagger back in the chest. Damn, it was exquisite.
“The stones on the chest . . . it’s from Galen.”
She glanced sideways at Blake, arching a brow. Moonstone was Galen’s preferred gem, and their castle in Skybell was rumoured to be made of it. Something so dazzling didn’t belong to a place so cruel.
Blake’s mouth formed a grim line.
“We’ll take it with us. This could be payment from Galen to the pirates. It’d explain why they’d willingly sail into the Mist. Maybe the pirates can reach their shores.”
“That’s impossible. Why would Galen want pirates to work for them? And no one has ever been able to survive the Mist,”
Kora pointed out.
“If pirates have found some way in . . . does that mean Galen have found a way out?”
Blake abruptly stood and slammed the chest shut, his body tense. He shook his head, denying her question. It was unfathomable. If Galen could escape the Mist, the Galenite War would reignite, blazing until it consumed the islands, disintegrating them into ash. He signalled for three nearby sailors to haul the chest to the boats, and Kora’s shoulders slumped as her favoured dagger was carried away.
Shame it’d been crafted at the sinister island.
“They attacked us because that’s all pirates do. Galen is up to something. Somehow, they’re contacting the world,”
he spat, before helping her up. Their bodies hovered close together, mere inches between their entwining heats. Blake’s green gaze captured hers, sparkling like emeralds in a sea of death, and he released a breath, loosening his shoulders.
“We need to head back soon. Don’t get lost, I don’t want to have to rescue you,”
he whispered with a teasing wink.
“I think you’ll find, it’s normally me rescuing you.”
Kora tapped his bandaged arm, and Blake retreated to the boats with a chuckle, overseeing the remaining plunder. She weaved around piles of debris, missing the balance of her daggers strapped to her back. Swept away by the thrill of the hunt, she’d left them in her quarters on Hell’s Serpent.
The fragmented hull was silent and void of life, aside from the occasional arm or leg buried underneath the desecrated debris, and she eyed the suspicious door below the quarterdeck, leading to the captain’s quarters. No one had searched it yet. Kora motioned to the nearest sailor and stifled a moan as the trembling newbie approached.
“I thought you stayed on the ship.”
Her tone dripped with irritation.
“No ma’am.”
Blood seeped through his head bandage as he wiped his hair from his lean face.
Kora grimaced. She was by no means old enough to be addressed as ma’am. Erick had guessed her age as fifteen when he’d recovered her from the wreckage, and now she was approaching her presumed twenty-fifth birthday. They’d decided the day of her rescue would be her birthday. It was at the end of summer, before cool air swept in for autumn, soothing the raging heat.
“You may address me as Captain,”
she reminded him.
He gaped with worry, shaking his head, but his eyes sparkled.
“Please accept my apologies, Captain, I—”
Kora held up a hand, his sparkling eyes irking her. Did he think this was a joke.
“It’s fine. I need you to help me reach the captain’s quarters,”
she paused, remembering Blake’s suggestion, “please.”
The sailor stilled, glancing to the heavy-set mahogany door lined with dark iron bolts. He surveyed their demolished surroundings, dark eyes turning quizzical. Open space loomed between them and the captain’s door, decking strewn around in obliterated shards. Kora rubbed her chin, casting her stare over piles of rubble.
“We need to find a ladder, or barrels to stack.”
She began searching, dust collecting on her clammy hands. Nodding at her command, the sailor silently picked through the debris, face paling at the fingers and limbs peeking through the wreckage. She curiously studied him as the sense of purpose eased the tremble persisting in his body.
“What’s your name?”
Kora enquired reluctantly. Damn it, Blake.
“Finlay,”
he replied without looking.
“Finlay Blackstone, Captain.”
His shoulders hunched, squishing the broadsword strapped to his back between his bony blades.
“As in the House of Blackstone?”
Surprise tinted Kora’s voice. What was a son of a noble house doing on her ship? And how did she not know? Had Blake authorised his draft into the crew? She would certainly remember seeing Blackstone on the recruitment list.
Finlay tensed, his hair falling over the side of his damp neck. This close, Kora could see it was dark blonde, the dirt and sweat from over a week at sea hiding its true colour. He met Kora’s inquisitive gaze, face pinching.
“Yes, I hail from Aldara, like you.”
His voice cooled, and his dark eyes seemingly stared off into the distance, as if remembering his home haunted him. Black eyes, like the black-stoned shores of the north-west of Aldara.
“Why are you here? A son of a noble house shouldn’t be out here hunting pirates.”
Not that he’d done much hunting. Sons of noble houses were destined to rule in politics, or become consults to the royal family, ensuring their families married into wealth, and carrying the legacy on entitled shoulders.
Kora’s stomach knotted. It couldn’t be a coincidence that a son of a prestigious noble house, known for its huge contributions to the navy, was here. Drafted for the first time to join the same voyage that was ambushed by pirates sailing stolen empire ships.
Had the Blackstone family organised this? Had they sent their son to spy on the empire? Her spine tingled, skin prickling from the humidity. What if they’d reviewed her plunders and discovered a chunk of wealth missing? Was Finlay here to investigate?
Finlay straightened and sighed at Kora’s intensity, clasping his shaky hands together.
“Joining the armada gave my family certain . . . advantages.”
His bitterness leaked through, coating his voice. It was thick, and he cleared his throat.
“What better ship to be placed on than Hell’s Serpent?”
She narrowed her eyes and a blush crept up his neck. It was a double-edged truth, hidden behind deceit, and her gut gnawed. He was hiding something.
Kora probed.
“Why would your family force you to enlist?”
“They didn’t approve of my . . . lifestyle.”
Something sparkled in Finlay’s dark gaze.
Before she could push further, he suddenly pointed behind her and Kora whirled, expecting an attack, her hands raised to fight. Her breath whooshed out of her system as she faced a partially broken ladder, tucked away in a dark, damp corner.
“The ladder won’t hurt you,”
Finlay chuckled as he brushed the cobwebs off it. Her hands dropped to her side, shaking the tension out of her. Gods, she was so tired, her nerves fried from the pirate ambush. Adrenaline had abandoned her, and Kora’s body screamed at her to rest. They positioned the ladder against the broken deck panelling, precariously placed at the foot of the captain’s bolted door.
“Just about fits,”
she mused as Finlay held it steady, his tremble now non-existent.
“It’s your lucky day. Time to claim what’s yours.”
He smiled, and gods-damn he was a pretty male. Kora returned the smile, and a light danced in his fathomless dark eyes as she ascended the ladder.