Page 89 of Daughter of the Dark Sea

She squeezed Cadence with her knees, her voice tearing from her throat, challenging the horse to run, and to runfast.

Lances and arrows rained down upon them, and the cabal dispersed, evading the threatening might of weapons spearing their way. Kora sucked in a breath, momentarily thanking the gods as they weaved around the deadly metal rain.

Their luck was surely about to end soon.

Ivar fired more arrows, rowing down another ten exiles, yet they kept converging—pressing in until they circled the sides. She cried out to Aryn as a crossbow wielder took aim, standing atop of a cluster of boulders, steadying himself in the wind. Ivar reached around Aryn to take control of the fiery Fajra as Aryn nocked an arrow in his longbow, pulling the bowstring taut.

For a moment, his eyes blazed, the golden flecks burning as bright as the sun, before fading. Kora blinked, wiping the lens of her goggles.

He inhaled once and released, the arrow zinging through the air and plummeting into one of the crossbow wielder’s eyes. He toppled off the boulder, his scream a whisper on his lips, blood spurting from his head.

But it wasn’t enough.

Another male approached the fallen body, collecting the weapon to fire at them again.Gods, how many people had been banished as exiles?

They were so close she could distinguish their features. Their deeply tanned, rough skin. Their thinning hair, the loose, dirtied clothing, and makeshift leathers from hides of wild animals—and the brand marked on the centre of their foreheads from a hot poker. In the shape of the empire’s insignia. Marred for life, by the kingdom that cast them out.

The sound of Aryn’s longbow firing continued, a constantwhooshof air, and the eastern exiles fell in quick succession one after the other. A trail of bleeding dead, staining the sand. The exiles to the west faltered for a moment and Kora seized her opportunity.

“Ahead!” she yelled, pointing to the narrow clearing. They could make it. They just had to listen and follow her.

“We’re out!” Aryn shouted, slinging his longbow over his shoulder.

“Stop!” A sudden commotion from Erebus had her twisting towards Blake. Theron argued with him before he vaulted from the rear of the horse, landing on the ground in a crouch, speckles of sand billowing around his huge form. Before Kora could comprehend what was happening, Ivar silently followed suit, dismounting Fajra with a feline’s grace that unnerved her.

“What are you doing?” Samuel pulled Rayne up short, the horse rearing in protest. Aryn deftly pivoted Fajra, heading for Ivar, yelling at him to get back on the horse.

No. . .they had to get to the border.

“We will hold them off!” Theron armed himself as he sprinted towards the exiles. He threw his throwing daggers with an impressive precision that Kora couldn’t help briefly admiring. As she slowed Cadence down to a precarious trot, Blake signalled her to gallop towards the border, his face urging her to get to safety.

The exiles spotted Theron and Ivar, and with a unified bellow, barrelled towards them, swords and daggers raised; a couple boars chuffing hot air.

As soon as Blake dismounted Erebus, giving the horse a light slap on the rear to escape to the trees, Kora yanked on Cadence’s reins, causing the horse to whinny as they stopped. Blake squaring off with the incoming slaughter of exiles, armed with only his golden cutlass sword, made her gut drop entirely.

He shouted at Aryn and Samuel to take Theron and Ivar away—thathewould fight the exiles alone, and Kora’s heart knotted and folded over in response. Her bowels twisting, mind screaming, ears roaring.

The Darkoning Trials snared her mind as she relived the final contest . . . Blake fighting through wave after wave of soldiers to become the champion. She could still smell the blood, and the dirt-packed arena. The scent of burnished metal . . . and leather and petrichor.

That champion stood before her once again now, his green eyes blazing with fury. But this time, he wouldn’t survive.

The red haze blanketed not only her mind, but her entire body. Her vision blurred, her features smoothing as the mask suppressed her fear, and allowed rage to grab hold.

Before she could convince herself to run to safety, Kora led Cadence to the edge of the palm trees, promising the horse she would return. Clasping her daggers in her sweaty palms, she ran towards the mass of raging exiles.

36

They didn’t see her coming.

Like a phantom, Kora weaved through the mass of charging bodies, her mind emptied as she sliced through throat after throat, her daggers sharp and swift. She mowed down ten males before they realised there was a viper in the nest.

Each droplet of blood incensed the haze, a beast drinking on the mindless slaughter, fuelling her ire.

“That’s right, condemn them. Send them to Umbra.”

She nodded; unsure what voice occupied her thoughts. It sounded like her, but ancient. Bodies converged on Blake, and a growl ripped from her throat. She needed to save him, by any means.

Males and females diverted from attacking her crew, who defended Theron and Ivar, and speared towards her. The blood of her enemies dripped from Kora as she crouched into a defensive stance, raising her malachite sabre daggers.Come and fucking get me.