Page 122 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“There’s nothing like this in Aldara,” Kora said, all too aware of their proximity and reluctantly retreating. “The empire built over the original city, and what’s left of Devania is in ruins. Some statues remain in Stormkeep, but they’re crumbling, so neglected that no one even notices them anymore.”

Raiden’s stare hardened. “The empire managed to wipe the history of Devania from everywhere but here.”

“What was Devania like?” Kora curled her knees up, peering at him with wide eyes. History was her favourite subject, and her heart swelled as she momentarily flashed back to the Silvermaid’s Emporium. Sprawled across Agatha’s lounge chair in her secret room, a pot of tea brewing on the hearth, whilst she recited tales of Devanian magic, and the development of their cities.

“I wouldn’t know,” Raiden’s tone shifted, his head cocking slightly as he studied her. “I was born one hundred and seventy years into the Devanian Conquest. All I knew was war. My father raised me and my siblings as weapons against Azaria. The Mist appearing . . . it was hard on us all. Our purpose taken away, blind to know how the world outside fared. Whether it still existed.”

“That must’ve been tough.” Kora gently placed her hand on his, a daring touch. “Erick raised me the same. My ten years were spent training until I bled. I was so angry, so fuelled by revenge aimed at the wrong people.”

“Fathers of the year,” Raiden muttered, and a small laugh slipped from Kora.

“Why does yours treat you so badly? I know Erick has done some terrible things, but Zephyr is something else.”

Raiden’s hand tensed under Kora’s. She studied the sharp lines of his body, the way his stare dimmed in the light of the fire. As she moved to pull her hand away, Raiden turned his over, lacing his fingers through hers. Her core burned, her thighs tightening as her heart raced at his touch. The warmth of his hand leaked up her arm, and she could’ve sworn the stars burned brighter.

“I did something,” Raiden’s voice strained. “I’m not . . . I’m not a good guy. As Windwards, we shepherd the four corners of the wind. We embody the balance of the world, the four points of the compass.” Kora recalled Hallow’s Day, how the four winds were used to honour Thanos. And Raiden hadn’t been involved, with Aryn and Cassidy awkwardly representing the western wind.

“As a young general, my father was determined for me to lead his armies. I was the heir apparent, the First Prince of Galen. It was my duty to lead us all into glory. My power was strong, rivalling my father’s, and my gift of speaking into the minds of others meant I could strategize an entire unit without the enemy hearing us.”

His grip tightened on Kora’s, and she gently squeezed in return. “Aerion was part of our defensive unit, he was barely sixteen. Too fucking young. Skylar was my second in command. She was more ruthless than I was, and led the front of attacks, her voice used to deter enemy lines. But . . . we had another sister. Iris. She was twelve, and her magic hadn’t manifested yet. But she was so special.” Raiden choked.

Iris. Kora blinked, flashes of paintings in Windspire, flowers drawn or left everywhere. Even Raiden’s sword attached to his side, the flowery pattern on it. They were iris flowers.

“Raiden,” Kora whispered, her heart sinking. “You don’t need to . . . I don’t want you to be in pain.” This would’ve been something she already knew once. Something Kora should’ve remembered, something Raiden didn’t have to repeat for her sake.

He met her stare. “I want you to know. It was before our time together. Before the conquest ended. Iris had followed me on a mission to the Dead Islands—she always wanted to go on missions. Her heart was bigger than all of ours put together. We were going to liberate the prisoners, and create a stronghold from advancing forces from Azaria. I didn’t even think—I freed all of them. Even the putrid ones, the ones who deserved to be there. I was determined to prove to my father that I could vanquish Azaria from Aldara’s border.

“But Iris had been there, and a prisoner had taken her into his cell . . . I tried to get to her. Tried to save her from his filthy fucking hands. But we’d been ambushed, the empire’s forces using the prisoners as a scapegoat to destroy us all collectively. She . . . he’d savaged her beauty. Her innocence. There was nothing left of her face when I got there. I snapped his jaw in half. I killed half of the people there in a blind rage. Even . . . even Galenites.”

Raiden released her hand and looked away. “I’m a killer too, Huntress. I murdered my own people. Those prisoners, some of which had been slaves to the empire. I destroyed half of Deadwater Prison just. Like. That.” Raiden clicked his fingers, and a cold wind flashed from those two fingertips, sending shivers down her spine.

“My father was furious, and stripped me of everything. It’s been over fifty years and he still punishes me. Iris was his favourite. She was more blessed than the rest of us, her connection to the gods was strong. She came up here frequently with Father. She could’ve become a priestess, a healer, anything that wasn’t a weapon. She was the brightest of us.”

Kora stood, and held out her hand to Raiden whilst remaining silent. He was tortured within, his own darkness haunting him. Raiden glanced at her, taking her hand, his stare wary. Without speaking, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. Raiden jerked in surprise, and Kora tightened her grip, her own horrors roiling in her mind, her own violent actions singing out to this male.

“I see you, Raiden,” she soothed into his ear. Raiden shuddered, and his arms encased her waist, pulling her close. Kora tried to ignore how she lit up from within, her body burning so bright she could’ve floated into the aurora above.

“I see you too, Huntress.” Emotion welled within Kora, and she buried her face into his shoulder to prevent tears from shedding. Raiden’s hands tightened against her back, suddenly clinging onto her as waves of grief rolled through him. He inhaled deeply as Kora tipped her head back.

He was so close. His warmth so enticing. Strong yet gentle. One of his hands slid from her back, his thumb and forefinger lightly gripping her chin as Raiden studied her face.

Gods. She wanted to kiss him. The thought came from nowhere, her body rocking forward to brush his. Something flickered in Raiden’s stare—surprise, maybe. His mouth parted, and Kora physically burned to be even closer to him, a heat licking up her limbs, demanding they collide under the stars.

Steam wafted, water bubbling, breaking their connection, and Raiden stood back abruptly, shaking his head. Cold air swept in, and Kora blinked the lustful haze away, remembering where she was. Why they were here.

“Er . . . it’s ready.” Raiden seemed dazed, his hands tremoring.

Kora eyed the brew sceptically. “This won’t make me do something stupid, will it?”

Raiden looked at her inquisitively as he transferred the steaming purple liquid into a fresh bowl. “Like what?”

Kora shrugged. “I don’t know . . . drugs make you do things.”

Raiden chuckled as he handed her the bowl. It shimmered in the night, the glow of the petals pulsating in time with her racing heart. It didn’t smell of anything, and Kora tentatively held it to her lips.

“Tell me this is safe.”

“Trust me, Huntress,” Raiden placed a hand on his heart. “I’d never endanger you.”