Page 33 of Daughter of the Dark Sea
But the empire had saved her life. Erick had saved her life. What was the alternative? Let pirates run amok, brutalising the islands, and pillaging innocent civilians? Anger blazed within her. Once she had eradicated pirates, the islands would settle. Galen was still trapped behind their Mist, and hopefully the pirate lords were trapped in there, too. That was the only way.
“Don’t distract me with putrid lies. You will answer my questions, and I’ll secure a lighter sentence at Stormkeep. It’s more than you bloody deserve.”
Jack hesitated, his gaze snagging on her scar once more. He was inspecting her, like he was searching for something within her face or soul. Slowly, he hung his head in defeat, and Kora quashed the rising feeling of discontent at the broken male.
“What was your plan last night?”
“We were going to escape, to a small port town between Scarlet Bay and Blackstone Reef . . . with the treasure.”
“You knew about the Galenite bribes,” Kora assumed. “You pretended to be simple backwards pirates who joinedDemon Sea Sirenrecently.”
“I acted the way you expected of us,” he shot back. “We saw the treasure Cannon had amounted. We planned to steal it, but we wereinterrupted.”
His glare churned her stomach. So much death in a matter of days. It was no use pushing Jack, not when he blamed her for everything. He sipped the water, wincing at the pain of his ruined face. Cold, damp silence wrapped around them, and she waited in the shadows, as the events of Silas’ death haunted him.
“Something was wrong last night. Silas said the plan had changed, and suddenly started killing everyone.” Jack’s gaze shuttered, as he seemingly stared at nothing. “I followed him up to the deck, and he was already brawling with that sailor.”
Kora’s chest ached, and her breathing hitched as the sound of Finlay’s neck snapping echoed through her mind.
“I thought, if I got the treasure, he’d stop, and we’d jump ship . . .” He sucked in a shuddering breath as tears lined his eyes. Jack traced the faded tattoo on his left arm, its vibrancy muted and grey against his skin.
“Tell me how you know Devanian,” she whispered. “Are you in favour of theold world?”
He continued to stare into oblivion, repeatedly tracing the tattoo. Precious seconds ticked by, and the shuffling of boots echoed above, followed by the sound of a guard approaching the hatch to the pit. She had to go—soon.
“Do you know anything about magic, or mages?” she pressed, her hushed whisper straining. Their abnormal strength had made her mind tick. Was it possible that magic was returning? If the pirates could sail into the supposed magical Mist, then was Jack’s claim true?
Or maybe that was a lie too . . . and it was justMist. Not made by man.
“Are you a mage?” Her skin crawled, veins bubbling beneath the surface. She needed to know. “Answer me!”
Silence. The guard’s voice rang from the entrance to the pit.
“Did you send the letter?” she hissed, frustration pushing her closer to the bars.
Jack furrowed his ginger brows. “What letter?”
“Did Silas mention anything about forging a letter?”
He tensed at the mention of his twin’s name. “I don’t know who he was last night,” Jack whispered to the darkness surrounding them, withdrawing into his inner pit of grief. Ready to await his uncertain fate.
Kora sighed, rubbing the constant dull ache in the side of her head. She got to her feet and stalked to the end of the row of cells, leaving the lantern with Jack.
“We are not your enemy!” Jack hoarsely called in Devanian. “Remember what’s real.”
She paused by the ladder to the deck hatch. “I’m sorry. But I don’t,” she replied in the ancient tongue.
16
Samuel met Kora in the shadows of the bowsprit. Brimming with merriment, he smelled like half a barrel of grog, and stuck out like a large, blonde boulder amongst the sea of slender, lithe males. He hummed a sea shanty under his breath as they ducked into a small coving away from prying eyes.
“Captain!” Samuel’s broad face broke into a gleeful smile, and she steadied his drunken sway with her hands. They looked so tiny against his chest. “I love this ship,” he crooned, his stein sloshing with spiced liquid.Good gods.
“Sam,” she commanded his attention. “Did you speak to Cook?”
He nodded eagerly. “Aye, he knew nothing. I had to help make dinner to get any information from him.” Samuel patted his stomach, which was spectacularly muscled—and full of food.
“He said the knife disappeared two days ago. He’s been using a sword to cut meat from our raid instead.” Samuel shrugged, swigging from his rapidly emptying stein.
