Page 144 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

Blurred shapes came into focus in Samuel’s good eye. A fireplace. A castle. A navy and silver bedspread littered with fruits and dips. Samuel’s stomach convulsed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. The suit of death kept him alive without the need for nourishment.

On the bed, two bodies, writhing, grinding as a head of white hair flung back, ecstasy spilling from her lips before a stranger’s hidden face.

Kora.

His captain. His friend. Samuel groaned as Theron’s vision vanished in a second, and he slumped against the mast, wheezing as his blood pooled by his knees.

“Kora,” Samuel moaned. “Hide . . . they’ll . . . find . . . you, Captain.” Vivian whirled, slapping him across the face.

“You will forget her!” she snapped. “She left you, Samuel. She doesn’t care about you. She will never care about you. Your place is here, with us. With me.”

Within moments, Samuel’s pain vanished, numbness embracing him once again. Callan sniggered, laughing as Samuel slumped back, resting on the back of his legs.

“I can’t wait to see that bitch again,” Callan jeered. “She owes me.”

“None of us care for your shrivelled phallus,” Vivian remarked.

“Kora!” Blake stormed past Samuel, his second shadow following a step behind. He knelt before Theron, pushing his head up. “Where was that? Who the fuck was she with?”

His shadow leaked into the air, the wisps of darkness dancing along Blake’s shoulders, winding around his arms and pressing into Theron’s skin. A gut-wrenching scream followed, Samuel’s skin chilling further than he thought possible in his icy cage.

“She’s not in Mistros City.” Theron’s voice was faint, the whites of his eyes slowly returning. His cracked lips chafed as he spoke. “She’s with him.”

Blake’s hand slammed into the mast, cracking it up its centre. He rounded, facing Callan. His shadows lashed out, wrenching the sword from Callan’s grip.

“Oi! That’s mine!”

“And Kora was mine, but someone took her. Just like you tried to.” Blake flicked the sword, and it flew towards Callan. It rebounded, the intensity ricocheting from the black and malachite armour, soaring across the deck.

It impaled a sailor, spearing them through the chest, sending them overboard into the increasingly choppy seas. Blake stilled, his throat bobbing as darkness exploded upon the quarterdeck. His father’s fury evident at his son’s actions. Footsteps thudded, stomping across the weathered deck, the shadows fading with each approaching step.

“Marwood!” Rough and hoarse, a towering male dressed in blue-steel armour grabbed Blake by the cuff of his shirt.

“Stop fucking about, lad,” he growled. “We’re on the precipice of war, and you need to be ready.” His bald head shone with sweat, his brown eyes narrowed upon them all, and his lips curled.

“Callan is a rapist. He should walk the plank.” Blake glared towards the snickering male leering behind Samuel.

“We need as many bodies as possible to defeat the Windwards. Now get below deck. My son, Egon, is waiting for you.”

Blake growled, and removed the male’s thick grasp around his shirt. As he stomped away, disappearing down the hatch, Vivian sighed.

“Thank you, Garvan.” She placed her hand on his arm, her vixen eyes fluttering. Garvan visibly relaxed, his brown eyes crinkling with a small smile. “I fear he’s distracted. He doesn’t wish to marry, so much so he’s left his bride behind. Or so I’ve led him to believe.”

“The Hydraforts have no place here. Otto will cower before the first droplet of blood is spilled. It’s a blessing he’s confined to the Citadel,” Garvan huffed, peering down at Samuel. His forehead crimpled, his shaven eyebrows pulling together.

“It took some convincing for Rashi to remain behind in Talmon. She won’t notice Bree’s absence whilst remaining at Ironwharf Outpost.”

“I’ll marry a princess for you,” Callan laughed. “Bet she’s got a loudmouth on her.”

Vivian waved her hand, dismissing him without a word. Callan slunk away, waggling his gloved hands around as he barked orders at sailors. Samuel remained in silence, whilst Theron’s head drooped, the exertion of magic claiming his consciousness.

“Remember our plan, Garvan. My husband has lost sight of the future. Of the real prophecy. Once we secure Galen, we can perform the true ritual within the rift. None of this highland nonsense.” Vivian’s smile was terrifying, her voice taking on a sultry tone as her hand slid up Garvan’s arm, her fingers flexing in a way Samuel knew to be enticing.

Shadows still lingered on the quarterdeck, the master’s sight obscured. The crew yelled, pointing ahead to the south. Samuel squinted, as the air rippled, a glimmer of purple and green cracking down the middle of the horizon.

“You better hope Bree Hydrafort doesn’t back out now.” Garvan removed Vivian’s slender hand from his armour. “Otherwise, your dark god will kill us all.”

Part Four