Page 61 of Daughter of the Dark Sea
“Best to presume the worst. We can’t have this information leaking. Don’t try to contact Finlay. We can’t have his family getting wind of this. They can’t know about John, either.”
The flames of Finlay’s burning body filled her ears like a roaring current.
“Do we assume the same about John? Do you think he’s searching for Finlay? What if he doesn’t return?”
A pause, followed by the shuffle of feet, and Kora clasped her hands under the table to hide the shake possessing them.
“Yes . . . it’d make sense. They’d never leave each other, but meet back here in . . .” the voices suddenly faded out.
Kora scrambled to look behind her. Two pairs of legs disappeared up the stairs, their voices floating away with themas Circe carefully eyed the rowdy crowd, her gaze settling on Kora once again. A chill skittered down her spine as she attempted to casually sit back in her chair, grasping her stein to force the trembling to stop.
Her mind clouded with jarring thoughts, and her guts twisted as her heart ached with the loss of her friend . . . but her mind screamed at thelies.
Their friendship had been built on atruth for truth—had his truth even been real? Kora sucked in a breath, her eyes sliding to the shadowy staircase. Through the tangled mess of thoughts, only one stuck out.
Finlay Blackstone was a liar.
Had his family truly forced him to join her crew, or was it a cover up? He’d joined her ship for a reason, supposedly searching for someone. A female.
But she was the only female onHell’s Serpent.In fact, in the entire gods-damned armada. But apparently thatwasn’tcommon knowledge. Something screamed within her to find out, and she didn’t need the voice prompting her this time, as alarm bells rang in Kora’s ears, mind, and soul.
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Watch her like a hawk.” Kora leaned across the bar, using two fingers to signal said intense eye-watching at Circe. “Bree cannot be left alone. If anything bad happens to her, that’s a black mark against your tavern. I have . . . women’s needs to attend to in the latrine.”
Circe’s striking eyes bulged at the sailors swarming around Bree. One had ordered a bottle of wine to the table and topped up her glass, leaning over the heiress with hunger in his gaze.
“I won’t let anyone touch her.” Circe’s face hardened, her orange eyes ablaze as she stormed over to the mass of leering males, snapping at them. With Circe’s absence, Kora ducked behind the bar, edging to the stairs wreathed in darkness. But a snuffle at her booted feet cut her off, followed by a constant drumbeat against the tiled floor.
“Hello, Conan.” She ruffled the hound’s neck, carefully evading his drooling maw. “Will you let me pass?”
Conan snorted, pushing her back with his muzzle. He whined as he huffed at her scent and her fingers caught on a wooden tag clasped to the thin chain collared around his neck.
IF FOUND, RETURN TO FINLAY BLACK—
The rest of his surname had been scored by a knife. Kora’s mouth dried as Conan kept nudging her, his snout snuffling every inch of her hands, arms, and chest. This was Finlay’s dog. John was looking after him for Finlay . . . expecting him to return home. Her heart panged, and she petted the pooch’s soft head.
“I’m sorry, boy,” she whispered. “He’s not coming back.”
Droopy red eyes blinked. At least Finlay told the truth about being a Blackstone. John had said they thought Conan was a runt. Presumably, Finlay’s family would have put him down for inadequacy. Nobility was deranged at times. She was glad Conan was here, safe and sound.
“You’re a good boy.” Kora tickled his neck as Conan sat down, his huge paws pushed together in refined poise. She rooted through the shelves of the bar until she located a cooler of meats, remembering John’s path from feeding Conan the other day. His drooling increased as she dangled a raw steak, before throwing it into the heart of the tavern.
“Go get it!”
Conan barked as he flew after the steak into the crowd, sliding against the tiled floor as his jaws yapped in the air chasing his treat. She pivoted, nimbly sprinting up the stairs two steps at a time, ascending into darkness as the tavern erupted into chaos.
Kora wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting . . . but it certainly hadn’t beenthis.
The stairs led to a windowless hallway lined with four bolted doors. Each one had an unfamiliar symbol carved into the woodwork. Cold silence emitted from all but one, and she hurried to the end door, which was covered in whirling symbols that reminded her of clouds. Laughter rang behind it and she paused.
Should she knock? It couldn’t be that easy, could it? There was no lock beneath the iron doorknob, and she held her breath. It warmed to her touch as she grasped it, heating her skin before opening on silent hinges.
Apparently, itwasthat easy.
A large square room covered the span of the tavern below, the windows draped in red swaths of sheer fabric, casting a sultry aura. Decadent thick rugs with vertical swirls lined the floors, masking the sounds of footsteps, and giant plush cushions in all shapes and sizes were dotted around in clusters for people to lounge on. Endless cream-and-black candles, precariously placed on low, dark-metal tables with glass tops, burned until the wax melted and shrouded the shining surfaces.
A female in scantily dressed clothing approached Kora. She wore puffed lavender silk trousers, along with a plunging lavender top that exposed her slender, tanned midriff. A sheer piece of silk hung across her face, connected to a silver chain looping around her nest of black hair.
