Page 133 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“What is a relationship if there aren’t a few rocky paths? We’ll always be okay. He won’t explain the bond with Kora but . . . I trust him. I know deep down he’ll have a reason, even if he’s too stubborn to say.” Aerion shook his head fondly. “I’ve not managed to find a way to break the bond. Which is just fucking ironic considering this is the archive of all the islands.” Aerion frowned, his princely stare casing the curved library walls, peering at the shadowy corners. He blinked as he surveyed the ceiling, every stroke hand-painted by Raiden, depicting the gods as he saw them.

Calypso was the most beautiful, a siren of the seas with wild hair that weaved like currents of the wind. Haizea was a gleaming gem among the clouds, watching over Kaiah’s green body frolicking in the iridweed meadow, their face obscured by their hands. Igniso was at the far end, a rising sun dawning on a new day, his flaming hands cupping the light.

The other end was Thanos, his infamous grey veil the barrier between Devania and Umbra, a sea of stars representing passed souls. Raiden grinded his jaw, noticing a black patch in the furthest corner. Was that mould?

“But this time with Aryn has been . . . special,” Aerion tore his attention away. “Something we needed. Our cracks are mending. We’re having a date night before we head home to what I imagine will be a literal shit show, so don’t stay up late.” Aerion winked, before gliding away. His navy trousers flowed around his ankles, a thick burgundy jumper drowning his slender frame.

At least one of them trusted Aryn. Raiden still wasn’t sure on his intentions. Or his magic.

Raiden pored through a book on stones, pausing on malachite to ensure it didn’t possess any magical properties. It was nothing more than an aesthetic according to this book’s bland list of transformation and protection properties. Still not enough to deflect magic. He promptly checked every cross-referenced black-looking rock until he landed on a missing ripped page, its torn edge splashed with darkness, a singular letter visible from the title: B.

“Fuck!” Raiden slammed the book shut.

What was his father up to? What was Barron up to? How was he deflecting magic that fucking well? Some runes on weapons could shield, but not to the extent that magic bounced off the defender. Even Aryn’s magic had snapped upon impact. He’d witnessed Kora’s blade shattering when she’d attempted to attack those guards in the Citadel—before she’d shut him out.

Something was in that disgusting armour they wore. And he would find out what. He rounded on that black patch again, staining his greatest painting. Had someone messed with the archive? Missing pages, lost titles, and now whatever the fuck was on the ceiling.

“Raiden?” Kora appeared in the doorway, still bleary-eyed from sleep.

She hesitantly approached him. A green, simple dress overlaid a crisp white shirt, her white hair damp and brushed back. Jasmine and orange-blossom drifted towards him. Even her posh soaps had made the trip. Her sleeves were rolled up, exposing rows of pink leech marks that hadn’t fully healed yet. Tension rolled off him, his fists clenched as he tried to smother the panic cresting.

“What’s wrong?” Her keen gaze swept over him, and he glanced away. “Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry, coming here was a waste of time,” Raiden clipped his words. “These books have no answers for us. The deadline for the deal is approaching. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

Kora nibbled her cheek. “Is he really going to kill me?”

An uncontrollable snarl ripped from his throat. “I won’t let that happen.” He rounded on Kora, and her eyes flared as he cupped her face. “Stop. Chewing. Your. Cheek.”

Her brows flew high. “It’s called a habit.”

“You could heal it if you wanted to. And the leech bites,” Raiden urged, his stare dropping to her lips. “Use your other power, harness it. I know you can.”

“Because something as simple as healing my cheek will make me strong?” Kora retorted, sarcasm oozing. Gods damn that mouth.

“You tell me.” Raiden lowered his head, unable to deny the attraction pulling him towards her anymore. The room shone with her light, the air thicker and sweeter, granting him the life he desperately sought.

Kora was a goddess. She was blessed, and fantastical in every way.

She was better than he could have ever imagined.

Their breath mingled, and Raiden swallowed as one hand cupped the back of her neck, the other caressing her jaw, his thumb sweeping over her scar. He still wore the bracelet, her magic keeping the ice intact. A sign she was still here, still in control. Her gaze caught it, and Kora shivered. His lips tugged into a lazy smile as their mouths neared.

His heart raced. As though he’d never kissed her before. His head swam with her scent, relentlessly consuming him, purging him into a primal state that drove him mad. He needed her. He needed her now.

Kora’s hands flew to his wrists, her eyes flaring in apprehension. Raiden’s stomach plummeted as she stepped back, shaking her head. “No, Raiden. We can’t.”

His eyes shuttered, the words like ice as Kora retreated until her back hit the table, creating enough space between them as wide as the Black Abyss.

“Tell me why.” His voice was low, feral, and certainly didn’t sound like him.

“I’m not Kordelia anymore,” Kora mumbled through her words. “You’re only interested because I look like your past. But I’m not that person. I’m . . . I’m finally finding my place in this world. Discovering who I am, what I can do. I nearly sacrificed my entire life for Blake. I had put my dreams on hold to ensure I had his love.”

“I would never ask you to do that!” Raiden’s temper flared at the mention of that mutt.

“I’m repenting for my actions still.” Kora looked down at the pristine floor. “I know you feel that I was misled. An innocent captain in Barron’s plan. But I still killed those people. I don’t deserve anything right now. I need to put this world first.”

Raiden’s chest cracked as he realised what she was saying.