Page 24 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“Always a pleasure, Otto,” Erick smoothly replied as though he didn’t resemble Garvan’s personal punching bag.

Otto’s stare raked over Erick’s beaten and dishevelled state and merely snorted in response. “You had one job, and you couldn’t even do that right. After everything we did to get you on that island. The expenses are still stacked up against my coffers.”

“You were involved in Erick’s infiltration?” Kora piped up, and she scoured the Hydraforts. They were the wealthiest, the most elite, they were distant relatives of the Staghart family. Surely, to protect themselves, they would’ve stayed away from anything that could destroy their royal reputation.

Otto barked a laugh. “Barron needed investors to his cause, and we were more than willing. War makes good money, and we will always be on the winning side.”

Barron saluted his goblet to Otto with a smile. “The Hydraforts are always welcome in my household.”

“Cheers to that, my friend,” Otto replied. “As per our agreement, Erick will fall into my employment starting tomorrow. He is yet to work off his debts from ten years ago.”

“Debts?” Kora echoed, frowning at Erick’s paling complexion.

“Otto, don’t do this,” Erick whispered.

“You knew this day would come,” Otto chimed, his smile lighting up. “Your treason cancels out your protection. Time to pay up.”

“What is he talking about?” Kora floundered. “Erick.”

His warm stare met hers. “There’s a reason I was never promoted past commodore.”

Kora’s world spun. He was a prisoner just like her. He was owned by the elites—just like her. All this time, she’d placed Erick upon a pedestal, for his skill, his reverence, his drive to live up to his own beliefs of revenge for Eleanore. She’d always pushed him to ascend the ranks so she could take his place, but he’d always been reluctant. When really, he’d been serving the empire as a slave, whilst keeping Kora hidden from her own haunting nightmare.

“Yes, yes,” Barron waved a hand. “Infiltrating Galen resulted in Erick amounting debt to the Hydraforts. I’d let it slip for a while, siphoning his wages as commodore to appease Otto. But now, he must pay his dues. With interest.”

“We’ll take her, too.” Rashi nodded at Agatha. “We need an extra cook in the kitchen.”

No, no, no. Panic seized Kora. They would take them both away and leave her in Barron’s cold clutches.

“With these hands? I think not.” Agatha revealed her arthritis-riddled hands and scoffed at the lady.

“Do not speak back to me, slave,” Rashi snapped, slamming her sparkling hand on the marble table.

“Child, I am far older than you. Do not speak to me like I am less than you. I have witnessed a thousand lives. I have borne a thousand burdens. Your snivelling enslavement is nothing in the far greater plan of the gods. You are simply a dot in the expanding universe of time.” Agatha lifted her chin and then switched to speaking in Devanian. “You will die with no legacy.”

Silence followed, and Kora sharply inhaled the thick air encasing her lungs, the vibration within her core humming louder.

Rashi screeched. “Do not speak that foul language!”

“Honey,” Otto soothed. “Do not fret. We can make use of her another way. I’m sure our king will welcome her removal. He’s a very busy man.”

Barron nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. He leaned over to Agatha and whispered something in her ear and she gaped, whipping her head in his direction. What had he said to her? Kora leaned forward as much as she could, trying to capture Agatha’s attention with the swing of her foot under the table, but her legs barely reached half-way across.

“Pet, you’ve still not eaten,” Barron mused, glancing down to Kora’s plate. “My threat to kill your companions was always empty. Was only a touch of persuasion.” That sickening smile returned, and horror washed through Kora. “But perhaps someone else can convince you.”

The doors flung open behind Barron, and two reeking guards dragged a limp figure between them to the final empty chair. Hauling his body into it, they pulled his lolling head back, revealing a pair of dark brown eyes, haunted by writhing shadows.

“Theron,” Kora breathed.

“How’s it going . . . Cadell?” Theron wheezed, followed by a cough, as if the simple notion of breathing was difficult. Almighty Thanos.

He looked awful. Tiny curls of dark hair had grown across his head, and his dark face was ashen, coated in a sickly sheen of sweat. His once captivating eyes held darkness, ringed by black circles that bled into veins wriggling beneath his cheeks. Theron was thinner, and his usually rippling physique now wan. Dark patches blemished his skin, with sores oozing an unfamiliar dark liquid.

Ivar’s steps shuffled behind her, his unease coursing through the air. Theron’s gaze clocked him instantly, relief evident for only a second before he focused on Kora instead.

“What have you done to him?” Kora whispered at the pustulous flesh peeking from beneath his thin linen clothing. Loose trousers draped around his waist, clasped by his trembling fingers.

“Just a little training, to ensure devout submission to me.” Barron surveyed Theron, his attention gleeful. “Wait until your father sees what you’ll become.”