Page 113 of Daughter of the Dark Sea
“Yes, and now it’s trying to escape. I do not need the story, Cadell.”
It unnerved Kora to learn Theron called them by the same name. That it rolled off Theron’s tongue with such familiarity, as if Erick and him were . . .friends.
“There was a war between us and Galen at the same time,” Erick continued, ignoring Theron’s growing impatience. “A man involved in that war was Davy Jones. He fought for Galen, possessing impossible . . . abilities. He could do things I’ve never seen another person do.”
“And how does Davy Jones control the kraken? His legend is that he’s dead, and drags sailors’ souls to the depths of the Locker. A tale to scare children.”
“Some legends are real. He controls the kraken because the Black AbyssisDavy Jones’ Locker.”
Theron scoffed again in disbelief. “How do you know this? How is this even real? His legend has been around for decades, not ten years.”
“Because . . . I sent Davy Jones to the depths of the abyss myself when—”
Crack.
Kora froze. Her hands had dug into the rocky ground without her realising, and water oozed from the terrain, latching onto her skin.No, no, no.The crack webbed, skittering up the rough wall, splintering the wooden doorframe, and the wood creaked, the frame shuddering.
“What’s that?” Footsteps approached, the beam of light darkening.
Kora lurched forward, descending into the pocketed shadows of the tunnel. She couldn’t get caught, but she’d been unable to hear another word. Anotherlie.Surely it was all still legend. Blind trust in bedtime stories. Krakens weren’t real. Davy Jones wasn’t real.
But Erick’s association with the Skytors was real.
Her world had been created and nurtured on a bed of lies. No one was truthful, not even herself. How could she be if she’d been born from lies? If everyone around her lied, surely she was destined to become a liar herself?
Kora stormed into her cave-like room, flinging onto the rickety wooden bed and delving underneath the thin, sage-green covers. Her talisman burned her skin, and she was sure it was evolving again after her spectacle outside.
She didn’t care anymore.
Nothing mattered anymore.
It was hard to care when she wasn’t sure what was real anymore.
44
The Citadel was a golden fortress towering all around them.
Kora craned her neck as her eyes drank up the vast size of the place. It was four times the size of Stormkeep Fortress, and in the heart of it was a domed castle made of stone, with gold crusting every edge of every line of square. Moss caked the structure like an external protective layer.
Large windows ascended two floors, with curling panes made of solid gold, and something about the overflowing opulence tickled the farthest regions of her mind.
Outside of the golden spiral and domed castle were the outer turrets and streets of the Citadel—all made of the same gold-flecked stone and moss. Beyond, was the city, consisting of bricked homes, green slatted roofs, and gleaming glass and cobblestoned roads lined with luscious bushes and trees.
The cabal stood inside Mossfell Castle, the very centre. The beating, thrumming core of the Talmon Empire, and opulence shone everywhere Kora looked. Gold and silver candelabras,golden embossed furniture, furnishings made of silk and velvet, white marbled floors with rivulets of gold. Heavy velvet drapes tied with golden sashes matched the shade of the looming forest hugging the rear of the Citadel.
She lingered by the grand windows, memorising the view of ocean waves between them and South Wharf Station. Her scar pounded viciously, and no amount of arnica salve was soothing it.Gods damn this headache.
“Welcome!” a male voice resonated across the large room, commanding the attention of Kora and her crew. Bree had departed once they’d arrived at the Citadel, barely glancing at her or Blake as she scurried away to her family’s estate nearby.
It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.
Theron strode forward. He shook the hand of the male, his sheet of midnight hair glistened like oil. Several courtiers flanked his large form, and they dispersed, lounging on the chaises dotted around the room, luxuriating in front of the roaring marble stoned fires.
Erick followed Theron, and the male beamed, his thin lips revealing a sharp smile as he clapped Erick on the back with a rough laugh. He towered over Erick, and was broad shouldered; muscled to the point Kora knew he’d spent a fair amount of time fighting.
Eying him curiously, she slowly approached, with Aryn and Samuel flanking her.
“You’ve seen better days,” the male chuckled at Erick who laughed back. The sound was foreign.
