Page 55 of Daughter of the Dark Sea

In the distance, smoke billowed from Talmon Island like a black spot.

Erick had rowed all night, and Aryn took over in the morning. The males had barely spoken more than two words to each other, Samuel’s sacrifice hanging over them. Their goal was to escape to Calypso Islands and devise a strategy from there. It’d take several days on a pinnace boat with a broken sail.

Thankfully, supplies and rations had been stashed below the small deck, and Kora sat cross-legged, gently nibbling on cured meat, her stomach roiling at the invasion of solid food. She could never eat sea biscuits again.

Erick watched her intently, his brown eyes assessing every detail on her until they settled on the collar on her throat. His expression morphed into a glacial rage so fierce, she squirmed on the bench.

“It doesn’t bother me that much.”

“Don’t lie. It’s a disgrace.”

Her skin prickled at his words, and she set down her rations, glaring at him.

“Fine—let’s talk about lies.”

Erick raised a brow and Aryn halted his rowing, turning to face them curiously. The sail listed in the gentle breeze, and they bobbed along the azure surface of the sea.

“I know.”

Erick and Aryn glanced at each other. The former worried, the latter . . . tense. She wasn’t sure what was irking Aryn, but he was constantly on edge.

“What do you know?”

Erick hedged.

She spluttered at the males. Two sets of eyes bored into her, like they were both trying to read her mind.

“I know that you knew Theron—Eli—whatever. That you were . . . I don’t know, friends?”

The tension in the two males dissipated and Aryn resumed his rowing.

“Friends?”

Erick smiled, like it was a joke.

“Don’t play dumb with me. I heard you both at South Wharf . . . talking about the Skytors and Davy Jones.”

Aryn jolted and cursed as he dropped an oar into the ocean, and Erick hurtled forward, trying to grab the handle but it sank into the dark, watery depths. She could’ve easily beckoned the oar. The tingle of her power had returned now that she was back where she belonged . . . in the ocean.

“Shit.”

Erick pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat back sighing.

“How do you know the Skytors?”

“They attacked us in the desert.”

She flashed back to Doran and Mags. The same vision danced behind Aryn’s tired eyes as they shared a reproachful look.

“You never mentioned that before.”

His gaze pierced her.

Unspoken words crossed the space between them. They had never told Erick during the debrief after escorting Theron. Blake had made it clear not to divulge the information. In fact, Blake had made a lot of decisions for her. Her jaw clenched so hard at the realisation that her teeth nearly snapped.

“We handled it,”

Kora retorted. Handled was probably the wrong word—they had obliterated an entire populace, and their blood still stained her soul and haunted her dreams.

“What are you doing working with the rebels? You’ve been hunting them for years! Or is that another lie, too?”

His mouth thinned.

“Kora, there’s a lot you don’t know—”

Aryn coughed, and Erick pinned him a glare.

“We don’t have time for this.”

“Now is the only time.”

Aryn regarded them, silently perched at the end of the boat. The sun had risen to the peak of midday, and they were still too close to Talmon Island. But she couldn’t stop—she needed to know now.

“Yes, I hunted rebels. Like you, I was doing it for revenge.”

She stilled as a faraway look overcame Erick’s face.

“I . . . I had a wife once . . . Eleanore.”

Silence hung heavy in the boat.

“I was away on a simple scouting mission as a captain, and when I returned home, she was . . . they had . . . they’d butchered her. The rebels targeted multiple attacks on officers in the empire, ransacking their homes, stealing intel, and murdering their loved ones in the process.”

Horror roiled through Kora, and she clasped the edge of the wooden bench to steady herself.

“Eleanore was pregnant with our first child,”

he continued, and he looked at the sea, his eyes watering.

“I lost everything in one day.”

Aryn’s shoulders hunched and he bowed his head.

“Erick . . .”

she placed a hand over his.

“You never told me. I’m so sorry.”

“Barron took me in after that. I was young and na?ve, and he turned me into the man I am today. He helped me turn my pain into ambition, and I went out and hunted down the rebels . . . and then I found you.”

Silver lined her eyes and she squeezed his hand. She already knew the rest.

“I may have lost the love of my life . . . but I gained something so precious in you.”

Aryn sank further into the boat behind Erick.

“So, no, it wasn’t a lie, Kora.”

The sternness returned to Erick’s voice, and shame rose to her cheeks. He had this entire life, an entire history of pain and survival before her, and now he was throwing it all away for her.

“I vowed to protect you with everything I had. I cannot lose another child. So I kept the reports of the Skytors from you, afraid you would go after them in your own pursuit of revenge. History must not repeat itself.”

“But you work with them. I heard you. You and Theron worked with the Skytors, and the witches.”

Doubt crept into her voice. Had she imagined it?

Erick shook his head.

“The odd contract here and there to serve the empire. It was a way to keep tabs on them. We couldn’t eliminate a whole group of people without just cause. It’d be suspicious, especially with the witches and their accord.”

And that’s exactly what Kora and her crew had done, but no one had raised suspicions . . . yet. Fortunately, the witches governed themselves, but any attempt to kill them would lead to catastrophic war. Ironically, that was happening regardless of the empire upholding the treaty.

Witches, rebels, Marshans . . . would all be killed in this war.

She frowned. “But—”

“As I said Kora, there’s a lot you don’t know.”

Her voice died on her lips. She’d been sheltered by Erick without realising it—and by Blake. Both working within the ranks and tiers of the empire, hoarding vital information that could have changed the course of events that landed her here, as a fugitive.

Kora thought she’d been important. As the only female captain, she’d thought she was special and valued in the armada. That she’d been seen by the empire as a rising star to become the next admiral. But she wasn’t. A female pirate lord was out there—Cassidy. And Skylar, the Galenite mercenary, had wielded respect from her crew, despite their bloodthirsty intentions.

It was only the empire that oppressed females.

It dawned on her she was only favoured as the commodore’s daughter—and that’s all she ever was. She only had sway and status because of her surname—which wasn’t even hers. She’d been used by Blake, springing him into the empire’s clutches.

She was so stupid and blind. Maybe Bree was right.

“What now?”

she mumbled, forcing the words out.

“What do we do now? Are we rebels?”

It sickened her.

Aryn picked up the single oar with a sigh.

“We survive,”

he replied, and attached a sheet of metal used to patch the pinnace boat to his longbow with rope. His gaze hovered on Erick’s haunted face as he relived his past. Aryn placed the oar and longbow into the ocean and rowed them across the shimmering liquid surface in silence.

Kora twisted the piece of ripped sail, pouring blood into the ocean, before dipping it into a fresh bowl of sea water. Talmon Island was still in their sight on the distant horizon, and it made her nervous.

“It’s worse than it looks—”

Erick’s voice cut off with a hiss as she continued to wipe away the dried blood on his neck.

“Don’t lie.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his face at her parroted words. The cut was thin but deep, clearly from a sword. Luckily, it’d missed the artery running down his neck.

“Get yourself one of these,”

she tapped the metal collar wrapped around her throat.

“Lifesaver.”

“It’s certainly a fashion statement. I’ll consider it.”

She sat back, inspecting the slash through his skin. It’d stopped bleeding, and all she could do was tend to it with sea water until it healed, to keep infection at bay. She was still unsure about revealing her power. Would Erick still love her? Would he cast her out? Would he use her, and turn her in to the Talmon Empire, gaining back their favour?

Sweat trickled down her face, causing an uncomfortable sensation beneath the metal enclosing on her windpipe. Her leathers reeked with mud, piss, and sludge from the dungeons. Erick had ripped the sleeves from the shoulders, allowing her a small reprieve from the heat.

Aryn had taken a break from rowing and was below deck, tending to his own wounds, and taking a much-needed rest. She’d splashed sea water onto her face, and partially healed her shoulder when neither male had been looking.

Despite the talisman’s absence, the pool of her power was growing, her water beast slumbering, ready to be unleashed. It was a small comfort to know she hadn’t lost this one token of strength. Maybe without her power, the talisman no longer worked. Its function obsolete without her source. Whoever stole it would be rendered with useless jewellery.

“You said you were ambushed?”

she recalled.

“As soon as you’d been taken by Barron, we grouped in my chambers. I know what you’ve been doing on those ledgers Kora. I’ve always known.”

His pointed stare made her blush like a scolded child.

“I admire your passion for your crew and their wellbeing, but there are rules and laws for a reason.”

“They were starving,”

she whispered.

“Even when we were the most successful in the armada, they still starved. Their children starved. I couldn’t allow all it, or allow the empire to reap all the benefits from our plunders.”

“I understand—”

“Do you? We live in a manor in the mid-district. We have servants. Those servants’ husbands are in my crew, bringing home whatever they can to survive. The Citadel is made of literal gold! They have more than enough, yet they keep taking more.”

Her gaze caught on the insignia branded on his armour. It meant unity. What a load of bullshit. What kingdom is united when it’s forced into varying districts, favouring nobility over the impoverished. Erick’s brown eyes flashed, followed by deep thought. His lank salt-and-pepper hair curled around his face, and she tunnelled on the wrinkles settling into the tanned planes of his skin.

“I’m sorry. I know that’s not your fault.”

“Your passion is outstanding Kora, it always has been.”

His lips curled into a small smile.

“The ambush . . .?”

She sat back on the deck, hiding from the afternoon sun in the white sail’s shadow.

He cleared his throat.

“Samuel hatched his plan rather quickly, but it took us a while to map out the castle, figure out the best areas to target with the explosions, even with my knowledge of the layout. We had a few delays.”

Indeed, the Citadel was a labyrinth.

“We learned the guard’s rotation schedules, and then we had to find which ones we could bribe. Those not entirely loyal to Barron.”

“How long was I down there?”

“Just over a week. It killed me that I couldn’t get to you sooner.”

Erick spoke thickly.

“Having to act normal around Barron, pretending I approved of his decision.”

He almost snarled.

“Marwood strutted around like a damned peacock.”

Her gut twisted.

“We were all set to go. But just as Samuel began the trigger of explosions, a group of soldiers in the barracks attacked him, led by Garvan’s son—Egon. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate Samuel’s allegiance to you.”

Kora flinched.

“Us and a couple of rogue guards intervened, giving Samuel time to get away and start the sequence.”

He gestured to his wounds and she nodded slowly, understanding sinking in.

“They’re going to kill him,”

she whispered shakily.

“All because of me.”

“No, they won’t.”

Aryn popped up from below deck. Shadows rimmed his eyes, and his floppy hair was slicked back with water.

“They’re going to use him.”

“What? How?”

“If they wanted you dead, they would’ve killed you instantly.”

He stepped onto the deck.

“They put you in that dungeon and left you alone for a whole week for a reason. They want you alive, and they will use him to get to you.”

Blake’s words echoed through her mind. We need you. Your power is unique.

The pinnace listed in the sea, and Aryn grabbed onto the broken sail, his eyes pinned on Kora—on her scar. The ocean water sprayed onto the deck, circling around her as her mind relived Blake’s betrayal.

“I don’t know why,”

she spat.

“I assumed it’s because I’m a Cadell.”

Erick lifted both brows.

“No other reason?”

Aryn pushed.

“I don’t know? They said I owed the empire, and that they owned me.”

Aryn scoffed.

“No one could ever own you.”

Something lingered beneath his words, and she glanced between Aryn and Erick. The former stared at her so hard his eyes bulged, and Erick curiously inspected the water on the deck, following it down to the ocean.

“What’s going on? There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“There’s something you’re not telling us,”

Aryn replied.

His ancient voice unnerved her, and his golden stare sent hairs prickling down her arms. Was this male truly her mystery voice? They didn’t sound the same, and right now Aryn frightened her. His youthful demeanour rippled, and beneath it, something old and deadly lurked.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she lied.

“Just admit it.”

“Aryn,”

Erick warned. What was that? Why were they acting so weird?

Waves crested in the sea as she pushed to her feet on the rocking pinnace. The ocean breeze stirred into a gust, and she wiped her hair from her face so she could assault the males with her deathly glare.

“Admit what?”

“Aryn.”

“It’s over, Erick,”

Aryn turned to him, his golden eyes burning as bright as the sun.

“It’s all over. Sam is a prisoner, and we’re fugitives, exiled from the empire. The war is returning. It’s happening all over again. She needs to know. She needs to remember. We need her back.”

Kora’s jaw dropped with astonishment.

“No, it’s too soon. I can’t.”

Erick’s glacial presence surfaced, but beneath, panic lingered in the flare of his eyes.

“We’ve waited years. I’ve waited years! You knew you had to let go of her someday.”

“What’s going on!”

Kora waved her arms.

“I exist! I’m right here! Stop talking about me like I’m nothing! I deserve to know what’s going on.”

“Kora,”

Erick took one of her hands, his breathing unsteady, his warm, rough skin scraping over her palm.

“It’s about your past. We need to tell you—”

A foghorn cut off his words, blaring across the horizon, and Kora gasped, her body trembling at the sound. She knew that sound.

They all turned to the west as a second foghorn blasted through the skies.

White sails. Moonstone gems. A Pegasus figurehead.

“No, no, no . . .”

She stumbled back into the sailing mast as an entire fleet of Galen warships rapidly sailed across the ocean, faster than any ship she’d seen—faster than her own Hell’s Serpent. Erick blanched, and he curled over, vomiting. Aryn remained silent, assessing the formation of the warships, his lips curving.

Panic seized Kora, freezing her solid as the warships headed directly for them. They were impossibly fast.

No, no, no. Not now.

Another horn ruptured her ears, and she twisted her head to the north, in the direction of the sound.

“You’ve got to be kidding!”

Aryn laughed out loud, and she was sure sailor’s mania was settling in.

A massive fleet of majestic mahogany ships—with green sails branded with the golden four-pointed insignia—sailed in from the north. Every second that passed, the closer the two fleets converged.

And they were right in the middle.