Page 135 of Daughter of the Dark Sea
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she admitted. She wasn’t sure why she was splitting herself open to this healer. She had no one left. He reapplied a salve over her fresh stitches, grog-soaked lavender permeating the rotten air, before re-bandaging the wound with clean gauze.
“Then find something.” Koji sat back as he tied up his leather portmanteau and frowned at the wall opposite them, his wrinkles deepening. “Sometimes, it can be as small as a symbol.”
She followed his gaze to the opposite wall. It was near-black, like all the walls in her cell, eroding from the elements, and covered in ghastly, slimywaste. A giant four-pointed star had been carved into it, the symbol stretching from floor to ceiling, wall-to-wall, with the circle connecting the four points as thick as her arm.
“Not all symbols are worth believing in.”
“Perhaps,” he motioned to the guards to unlock her cell, “but you’d be surprised at what you’re willing to believe when you have nothing left. A word of advice though . . .” he lowered his voice. “Be careful with who you trust to write your letters.”
As Koji’s steps shuffled away, casting Kora a final saddened glance, she opened her palm to find a single golden doubloon placed inside.
In dungeons built into a cliff, with the ocean raging at the bottom, and the wind whipping up like a contained cyclone, was the worst kind of sleep Kora had ever experienced. Even nights on the ship in sea storms were nothing compared tothis.The woollen blanket did nothing to protect or shield her, and when her fingers turned blue with frostbite, she knew these dungeons were where they sent prisoners to die.
Propelled by basic survival, she snapped the chains of the wooden bed, which were so decayed they crumbled in her fingers. Fortifying the corner furthest away from the bars of the cell, and using the wooden bench as a shield from the bitterly cold winds, she packed the space with hay.
Collecting the pitiful woollen blanket, she draped it over as a final protective layer. And that’s where she stayed, curled up with her limbs enclosed beneath her, her teeth chattering as the winds blasted through the cells.
In the morning, several bodies were thrown off the planks.
It soon became her routine, as days passed in the dungeon. No one visited to demand she start repaying her debts. Koji wasn’t allowed to visit again, so she tended to her shoulder herself, keeping the wound clean and dry. Prisoners were given one meal a day—a repulsive, lumpy gruel that was tasteless, with one stale sea biscuit, but she lapped up the small cups of water like it was the gods' nectar.
Every day, she tested to see if her magic had replenished, and all she could muster was a tiny droplet of water in the air. Whenever she pushed further, her shoulder would explode with pain threatening to knock her unconscious, her breath escaping her lungs. Even with the ocean so nearby, she felt oddly disconnected from it.
It was an ocean of death. More and more bodies were hurtled over the railings every morning, and the splattering oftheir bodies against the rocks, followed by crashing waves, woke her up every night like a nightmarish melody.
And when she wasn’t sleeping, she was fighting against the cold of the brutally harsh and unforgiving winds. The cyclones were so loud her hearing was torn in two, her mind roaring until even her thoughts were painful night after night. And if it wasn’tthat, then she was vomiting gruel into the chamber pot, unable to confront the pain and loss her broken heart was drowning in.
Kora sat back against the wall, twirling Koji’s gold doubloon in her grimy hands as she stared at the symbol across the cell. It was a constant reminder. The Talmon Empire was vast and mighty, and they were all small little cockroaches to be destroyed. It was oppressive, and it made hersick.
It made her angry. She wanted to see them all burn.
“Lucky you, it looks like you got the executive suite.”
That familiar drawl was like metal claws dragging down her spine, followed by the stench of petrichor. Blake hovered near the bars, his keen green gaze raking in her makeshift den in the corner. She quickly pocketed Koji’s coin and stood to face him.
“Although . . . you’ve seen better days.”
She growled, and he jolted back in surprise, and her stare scraped over him. He was dressed in fine attire, fit for a royal. The forest-green tunic was striking against his complexion, with black trousers and a belt. Gold accents crusted his collar and cuffs, and his cutlass sword gleamed at his side.
A glance downwards, and she was met with her black leathers, crusted with mud, blood, and dirt. Koji had torn the left side so he could access her shoulder. She ran a hand through her locks, but her fingers could barely brush through the matted, lank lengths. Her hands werefilthy,and crusted with slime and blood, her wrists swollen with red welts from the shackles. They’d left the metal collar on her throat—a reminder she was property. That theyownedher.
“What do you want.” A demand.
Blake opened his mouth then shut it, watching her warily. “I’ve come to give you a second chance—afinalchance.” She huffed a laugh, withdrawing from the bars. “I can put a good word in with Barron,” his voice wavered. “You’re of no use to me here—”
“I’m not a prized pet you can wheel out!” Kora snapped. “What were you thinking? That I’ll start doing magic tricks and win their favour?”
“It’s not about that.” His eyes flashed.
“No? Magic isforbidden, Blake. Just like you and I were. We were never meant to be, and look where we are.”
“Kora . . .” he swallowed, learning towards the bars, “I want you. Ineedyou.”
She paused, lifting her gaze to his eyes. They were pleading and desperate, and she faltered for a moment, the scattered remains of her heart lifting with shameful hope.
“I know we’ve never been good at words,” Blake’s breathing turned ragged, and she tried to suppress the yearning cresting within her traitorous body. “But I love you.”
Finally. . . after all this time. She’d waited for gods-knows how long for those words, for that admission of love. It was everything she relied upon to give her strength to become an admiral—to be able to have a world without pirates . . . and Blake at her side where they could finally express their love. And she’d nearly sacrificed her dream for it.
