Page 16 of Daughter of the Dark Sea
“So, what wasthatearlier then? Why keep up these appearances?” Finlay warily eyed the continuously twirling sabre blade in her hands.
“To maintain the illusion,” she stopped twirling the dagger. “It’s a constant push and pull to show that we’rebothrunning the show. Without one of us, the whole thing falls apart.”
She slammed the weapon down into the desk, piercing the wood, and left it standing upright. Finlay stared at the vibrating dagger, his gaze flickering to the wooden surface of the obsidian desk. Dents and scratches covered it from Kora repeatedly using it as target practise during long voyages.
“Relationships between crew members are forbidden in the armada,” Finlay whispered, his eyes glancing over the shuddering dagger to her. She lowered her head. After the Devanian Conquest, the viceroys had enforced that relationships were a distraction and a weakness that would costthem everything.
They may have won the war. But the enemy remained.
“Can I trust you, Finlay?” The malachite dagger between them stilled, and a palpable silence fell over the large cabin.
His dark gaze bored into her, as black asHell’s Serpent. The colour haunted her. Maybe she should request for the shipto be repainted. She maintained his stare, praying to the gods it wouldn’t come to using the lethal blade between them.
“A truth, for a truth,” Finlay finally spoke, and Kora gestured for him to continue, relieved. “I know you’re curious about why I’m here,” he paused. “I had no choice. My family told me it was either join your crew or face exile to the Silent Tundra.”
Kora was stunned. JoiningHell’s Serpentwas apunishment, and not a tactical move from the imposing Blackstone family.
“My lifestyle,” Finlay wiped a shaky hand across his face, “is not acceptable to them. I bring shame to my family.” He hung his head, lips trembling. Kora silently skimmed round the desk to crouch beside him, her hand gently placed on his knee. “You see, I. . .” His gaze met hers and she nodded in comfort, a silent friend to lean on. “Ipreferthe company of men. A lot.”
Kora’s face broke into a warm smile, and she let out a small laugh. “I wassoworried you were a spy!” She squeezed his knee and Finlay stared at her shocked, his fists clenching.
“You. . .you’re not going to gut me with your dagger?”
His tremor became intense, so much so she paused. It was an unnatural tremor, and he flicked his wrists, settling the shake, as his jaw ticked at her stare.
She took his quivering hands in hers. He had every right to be afraid. Such relations were frowned upon in Azarian society—not illegal, but for the son of a noble house, it was unwarranted. He was expected to marry and continue the noble bloodline.
“No. Why would I hurt a friend?”
Finlay’s beaming smile melted the depths of Kora’s cool heart. The twinkle in his dark eyes suggested he knew what she was asking for.A friend, a companion, in this fucked up world.He released a shaky breath and thanked her for understanding.
“If I was a spy, I wouldn’t be hanging around you,” he teased.
“Hey! Why not?” Kora twirled. “Am I not spy-worthy?”
“You’re worthy of many things.” She blushed at his genuine words. “But that tall, dark drink of water you like so much would be far more interesting to stalk.”
Kora pretended to grab her dagger and Finlay chuckled at her jealousy. “I can’t disagree, I’d stalk him all day if I could.”
“Maybe you should try it, you might learn something interesting.” Finlay’s stare glinted.
“Why send you here though?” She directed the conversation away from Blake’s mysterious nature.
“They believed the armada could teach me a thing or two.” He fiddled with his tied-back hair, pushing loose strands out of his eyes. “You know, magically turn me into a womaniser. Or a heartless warrior.”
Kora rolled her eyes. “Are we as dreadful as being exiled to the desert?”
“No,” Finlay winked, “you’re much more horrifying.”
8
Hell’s Pit was exactly as it sounded.
Mould was growing, multiplying, and creeping up the festering, black-stained walls of the pit. A stench of acrid damp, along with the hideous odour of waste from the two prisoners shackled to the walls, permeated the air.Almighty Thanos, they reeked.
Blake had tossed them into the smallest cell, their legs bent up to their chests to add to their discomfort. They only had the tattered scraps from the sails of the wastedDemon Sea Sirenfor blankets, and a small, dented cup of water to share between them. It remained untouched at their bare feet.
The bars of their cell were thick, black iron, and offered no reprieve on their aching, hunched backs. In fact, the entire pit was black, with no light penetrating it, blinding their senses, making them unsure how long they’d been caged in Hell.
