Page 138 of Daughter of the Dark Sea
It was mediocre compared to what she’d been able to conjure before—but it was enough. Even if it nearly broke her, she would save herself.
As water slithered up the bars of the cell, shaping into a key and reaching the sludge-crusted lock, a figure dropped in front of her cell, and Kora fell backwards with a violent shudder. She frantically scrambled through the waste away from whatever fresh hell she was about to experience.
“Kora! It’s me!”
The door to her cell swung open, and Erick strode in, racing towards her.
“Erick . . .?” Shock consumed her.
“Come, we don’t have much time.” Aryn emerged behind him, his longbow gripped tightly in his hands. Blood splattered his youthful face, stark against the black tattoo on his cheek.
“I was just breaking myself out—before you interrupted.”
Aryn wryly smiled. “I’m glad your humour’s still intact.”
Leaping to her feet, she swayed from malnourishment and, as Erick steadied her, he wrapped a black cloak around her shaking body. Verbal apologies swept over Kora as he clasped his arms around her tingling skin and her limbs weakened. He had defied the empire . . . forher.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I couldn’t get here sooner. I tried everything. ThatbastardBarron!”
“Go now. Chat later.” Aryn motioned to them, and he averted his gaze from Erick as Kora followed Aryn, his slender frame brimming with tensity.
“Where’s Sam?” She exhaled shakily as she stepped onto the walkway.
Bang.
Aryn glanced up, soil and vines raining around them. “He’s giving us some time.”
It wasn’t the war—it was her crew.
“Hurry!” Erick yanked her in his direction—downthe spiral walkway.
“What? Where are we going? We need to get Sam!”
Neither male answered as they propelled down the walkway, Erick leading from the front, and Aryn covering the rear as always. The spiral was empty. Whatever Samuel was doing was causing enough commotion for the guards to abandon their posts.
Good gods.
“It’s her!”
Prisoners in the cells clanked their metal cups against their bars. Their voices crying out in anguish as Kora barrelled past.
“It’s the pirate-hunter!”
Her stomach twisted. It had never crossed her mind that some of the pirates and rebels she’d sentenced over the years would have ended up here, a place worse than Deadwater Prison—andsurvived.
“Oi! You!”
“You ruined me life!”
“Stop that wench!”
“You’re a filthy rebel like the rest of us!”
The voices swirled around in her mind, merging with the courtier’s slander when Barron had paraded her around the castle. Gods, that must’ve been over a week ago.
“Don’t listen to them,” Aryn hissed as they raced to the bottom.
The cyclone winds were strong down here, and their cloaks forcefully whipped around them. Kora’s skin stung from the bitter harshness. If she’d been sentenced to one of these cells at the bottom, she’d have died that first night.
