Page 123 of Daughter of the Dark Sea
“I'm here.” A small, warm breeze tickled down the length of her neck and she breathed it in. It smelled and tasted of steel and something familiar.Hesmelled familiar.
But she had something new to focus on, to funnel all her rage and misery into. Her talisman was missing, along with her infinite sea of strength. And someone in this room was the thief.
And the Citadel had statues of Devani gods.
It was time to wipe the slate clean and start again.
What good was planning everything anyway? It’d only granted her disappointment and misery.
“Galen have announced their attack,” Barron's voice was a clap of lightning, bolting across the amphitheatre, and she jolted from her seat, her back smacking against the stone wall. “They seek to scare us, but they have only fuelled our fire.”
A murmur weaved through the crowd, but Barron waved his hand and it instantly ceased. She leaned forward. The male had power, and Kora could feel it rippling from him from where she sat.
It was how she imagined freezing to death felt like.
“I have invited you all here,” Barron gestured to the grand room, “to show you that we will stand with our people, and wewillprotect you from those who threaten us. My subjects, you are allsoimportant to me. Each and every one of you.” Barron’s gaze landed directly on her and she stopped breathing.
Indeed, she was confused as to why the majority of the citizens of the Citadel were at awarcouncil meeting. She’d been expecting just Barron, his advisors, and her crew to be present. His eyes hovered on her for a moment, and he smiled before directing his attention to those at the table—theimportantpeople.
“What do you propose we do?” a weedy-looking viceroy asked.
Wharton Bellmoor then, judging by the beansprout frame and white hair. And sat beside him, was Jacinth Blackstone. Drowning in black lace, a mourning veil obscuring her face, her black-gloved hands were placed on the golden table, twiddling a quill as she took notes. Kora shrank into her seat.
Most of the viceroys were also members of the noble houses, with a couple of independent wealthy males placed among them. Except for Jacinth. She had advanced as a viceroy over her husband, not for compassion in aiding citizens, but for her cold cunning in politics.
And they all looked to Barron for direction. Kora shivered. Why was he leading the meeting? Viceroys were meant to be equal rulers.
“We will meet them head on,” Barron declared. “We will take the war to them, away from our lands.”
“But how?” a gruff voice asked—an Ironwharf. His name evaded Kora. There were only so many uppity nobles’ names she could remember. “We don’t know what their defences are, or their numbers. We can only battle them on water, which means we are limited to our armada.”
The murmurs returned, voices panicking and worrying.
“My people,” Barron’s cracking voice silenced them. “Do not fear. Our—my armada isstrong. I have no concerns about the capabilities of the fleets. But we are also prepared. I knew this day would come, and I possess a weapon. A weapon that has never been seen before, and we will use it to crush the parasites that plague our lands.”
An applause echoed across the room, and dizziness swarmed her. A sickening twist of her guts. What kind of weapon could battle an entire armadaandpirates? Were the Skytors aware of such a weapon? For the first time, Kora worried about the enemy. They wouldn’t stand a chance.
“What’s the weapon?” A viceroy leaned forward.
“I must keep it secret,” Barron replied. “As much as I adore you all, my subjects, I cannot risk your safety if our advantages are revealed.”
She surveyed the room. Did he suspect a rat? She knew the feeling all too well.
“We’ve had reports of pirates and rebels attacking our outposts. Witches in Shannara are leaving their territory and breaking the accord. Marshans are defying their noble leaders—the House of Draiglo in Otrovia.”
The viceroys squirmed in their gilded seats, and Kora sat back, exhaling a shaky breath. It was more than Galen—it waseveryonethey were up against. The Marshans of Otrovia were considered outsiders in the islands. Normally, the Draiglo family weren’t included in the suite of royal nobles, after a private disagreement between them and the Hydraforts years agoresulted in them being exiled from society. It was them versus the world.
A prickling sensation ran down Kora’s neck. Something wasn’t right.
“And when we defeat the scum, we’ll finally claim Galen under the flag of the Talmon Empire.”
Cheers and clapping roared, spectators beaming at their saviour for the islands. At the possibility of eliminating their decades-long enemy, Galen. Had none of them realised what Barron implied?
He was planning on killing them all. She knew it in her essence-empty guts. In place of her power, intuition screamed at her that something was very, very wrong.
Theron suddenly stood. “Under the Staghart flag, Admiral.”
The tension grew so thick Kora could barely swallow, and the viceroys murmured amongst themselves as Barron and Theron stared each other down. Theron’s usual dark shadow didn’t linger. Maybe Ivar was sat in the upper levels?
