Page 72 of Daughter of the Dark Sea
“Aye, that’s how it is. Put in all the effort for scraps in return,” Samuel laughed, patting Rayne’s back. Kora’s stare snagged on Blake. He was dressed in all black as usual, never wavering from the empire’s uniform, with a wrap protecting his dark head.
“Rayne’s a good boy, aren’t you, bucko?” Samuel’s large patting hand eased, teasing the horses’ mane. Rayne arched his neck, guiding Samuel’s fingers to a spot and he scratched it, the horse visibly enjoying it. Who knew they were such conscientious creatures?
“I thought you said I wasridiculousfor talking to Cadence?” Kora elbowed him.
“Aye, because you speak of such trivial shite. No horse wants to listen to the top five manoeuvres with daggers, or the rankings of the crew. I tell Raynerealstories.”
“Like stories about how you bed a barmaid at every port?” Aryn added. “Let me guess, Circe was your latest conquest tale to Rayne.”
“You’re just jealous,” Samuel flexed his bicep. “Get some meat on you, lad. Then the lassies will swoon all over you.” He smiled, but it wasn’t his usual dazzling charm. “But if you must know, no. Circe is playing hard to get.”
Kora patted his thigh. His quest for love was overshadowed by his sheer, devastating handsomeness. One would think females would flock to Samuel, eager to secure him as a husband, but it had the opposite effect. He could pick any female, but none of them truly picked him. A blush burned Aryn’s cheeks, his dual tattoo dark against the reddened skin. She eyed the archer, his body tensing, the blush deepening as his golden-flecked eyes met hers.
“Is there a woman waiting for you back home?” she asked. Where even was his home? The accent in his voice was not of Aldara.
“Oh, no. I’m not into that sort of . . . thing.”
“Liar. I know love when I see it,” Samuel pushed.
Aryn’s blush was borderline worrying, his colouring matching Fajra’s, and he cleared his throat. “There may have been someone, once. But I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again. It’s been years, and I find it easier to not create romantic attachments. Less pain, that way. They’re better off without me, anyway.”
Kora paused. Who had Aryn left behind to join her crew? Were they in the north, safe behind the Citadel? She bit her lip.“Well, whoever they are, I’m sure they’d wait for you. You’re alright, Aryn Di Largo.”
He impishly smiled. Maybe she should follow his philosophy of romance. Because herattachmentwas currently acting like the bilge grease on the underside of a pirate’s boot.
“Well, this chipper conversation makes me crave some grog,” Samuel muttered.
“I think you need a detox,” Kora joked. But gods-damned, was her throat parched.
She hadn’t considered how far away they were from any water source and her fingers itched. Blake had been at the forefront of her mind for the past two days, and she’d been bitterly obsessing over his comments calling her anescort.
Alongside her masculinity, her doubts skyrocketed. A year . . . and they’d never been fully intimate together. The desert had been her solution, to break the final barrier between them. But now . . . that barrier had grown, towering so high and thick she couldn’t reach across.
Escort. Murderer. Thief.
The insults branded her mind. Did she deserve to be captain? To lead others when she’d committed atrocities that’d cause an executioner to re-evaluate their decisions.
“Everyone knows grog solves all of life’s problems,” Samuel’s smile beamed, the initial sadness fading as he discussed his second love—alcohol.
“To be fair, I’d have a drop in this heat—"
“Aryn!” Blake snapped, interrupting him. “Return to your post.”
Aryn bristled, his hands turning white as he fisted his reins. Kora inspected him with surprise—and curiosity—by his physical response. His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed at Blake through his thick lashes. Kora was glad to know she wasn’t the only one annoyed by Blake’s swaggering arrogance.
The bilge-sucking, mega scurvy—she couldn’t finish the thought. Not when her insults were reserved for pirates and rebels.
“As you wish.” He pulled up his scarf to cover his face, and guided Fajra to guard the rear of the convoy.
Blake’s gaze snapped to Kora and she maintained his glare. Harsh against her vision, the sun beamed behind him like he was some kind of saviour. She scoffed, but her pulse doubled as she squinted. Darkness writhed around his frame, coalescing with Erebus until a huge form stared at her with ethereal, green eyes.
In one blink, it vanished, and his glare transformed into a frown. She shook her head as they continued their parade across the desert, downing the remainder of her waterskin in hopes of warding off the hallucinations.
30
The entourage had arrived at Whitestone Bay a few hours ago. The coral and red-toned sunset dazzled against the peculiar, pale-coloured pebbles of the shoreline, nearly blinding them as they set up camp for the evening in perfected silence.
Once again, Blake pitched his tent as far away as possible from Kora’s, and once they’d created a small fire and eaten their pitiful rations, she trudged up the stony coastline, keeping her back towards his stormy presence.
