Page 40 of Daughter of the Dark Sea
“Don’t harm yourself more, Marwood.”
Blake paused, gingerly straightened, and adjusted his loose jerkin in the process, his pale face flushing. Erick’s weighing stare passed between his daughter and her first mate. So many previously spoken words laid thick in the air.
He’s not good enough for you.
How would you know? You never let anyone come near me!
Kora—listen to me. Do not go near Marwood. No good will come of it.
Blake nodded respectfully, and his quick emerald gaze homed in on the letter peeking from Erick’s grasp.
“You received my message.”
“Yes, the prisoner—Silas Flint—has been dealt with. He’s on his way to Deadwater Prison as we speak.”
Kora chewed the inside of her cheek as cautious green eyes met hers. She willed her face to remain in neutrality, the edgespinching with worry. She wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or mad at Blake for the missive.
“I suggest you acquire some overdue rest.” Erick casually placed his hand on her arm, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Blake. “We’ll be meeting tomorrow at first light to discuss your latest . . . voyage. Amongst otherthings.”
“Yes, sir.” Blake dipped his dark head, and Erick ordered two of his soldiers to assist Blake to the barracks within the fortress, whilst keeping his firm grip on Kora’s arm. She meekly murmured a farewell to Blake as he begrudgingly shuffled away towards the port town, his shoulders hunched once again.
Kora tugged her arm out of Erick’s grasp with a glare once they’d disappeared down the narrow street. “You know he looks up to you.”
A wry smile danced on Erick’s lips as he chuckled. “Just makes it all the more fun.”
“Why can’t you be more accepting? He’s a good first mate.”
The smile faded and Erick’s face turned serious, those rich, brown eyes frosting. “You knowwhat I think of him,” he solemnly replied. “He’s a reputable soldier, and can protectHell’s Serpent—and that’s all he can andwill do. Now, head home. Rest up.”
Kora sighed as he strode towardsHell’s Serpent, his minions following closely behind, to oversee the remainder of the capital vessel. Erick had voiced his opinion many times of her beloved Blake Marwood, and hispersonalconnections to her.
She wasn’t sure whether his keen observations had noticed their lingering touches, prolonged stares, and ghostly smiles. Whenever they docked, they had to increase their distance to each other. Another reason she hated being on land.
But she prayed Erick’s opinions weren’t true.
18
Erick had informed Kora thatHell’s Serpentwould be repaired within two weeks.
Two weeksaway from the vast ocean seas, from the winds blasting her face with the sheer freedom sailing offered her. She was stuck behind the towering fortress wall, with nowhere to go, nowhere to discover, nowhere to plunder, and no pirates to hunt. Two weeks of pretending to be indifferent to Blake, struggling to capture moments alone together, unable to let their desires run rampant.
It had driven her to the nearest tavern. Her sex life may be as dry as the desert, but her throat didn’t need to be.
The Abandoned Barnacle was rife with noise and bodies, as sailors from various ships filled the room. Kora perched on a high stool by the bar, a hooded cloak draped over her, obscuring her infamous white hair. Finlay had wanted to visit a tavern with her once they docked, and her heart ached as she glanced at the empty stool beside her.
She recognised many faces, clustered around high tables and booths. People from her crew, other fleets, and the trials. She refused to meet the lingering gazes of those from the trials, their memory a shadowing darkness lurking in the corners of the tavern.
Her slender hands gripped a stein full of golden ale, and she slowly sipped, ears pricking at the sounds of cheering and jokes from the sea of males around her. The tavern reeked of stale ale, followed by a bitter, smoky scent that clung to the furnishings.
Low wooden beams cut across the ceiling, and a set of rickety stairs in the far-left corner circled behind the bar, leading to an assorted taste ofservice.Netting lined the walls, with clams and shells woven throughout, and splotches of dried seaweed coated the crevices, filling cracks and holes from previous brawls.
A large bloodhound peacefully snored behind the counter of the bar, a thin chain collared around his thick neck. Kora admired his gossamer black fur, as his two-pronged tail gently wagged in his sleep, creating a steady soft drumbeat against the tiled floor. Drool leaked from his jowls and pooled on the floor as his droopy red eyes suddenly sprang open at a resoundingcrash.
“Oi!” the barkeep shouted, waving his thin hand at the commotion.
Two sailors brawled with two soldiers over a pot of silver bits in the middle of their table. Their glass steins of grog plummeted to the tiled floor, smashing to pieces as they swung for each other.
Kora quickly picked up her stein, nimbly shifting off the stool as one sailor sprawled into the bar, the wind knocked out of him. Bottles of grog and numerous glass steins rattled from the impact, teetering on the edge of the shelves.
