Page 43 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

Raiden followed the group a few steps behind, his stare trained on Kordelia’s back, pretending she was the same person. But her swagger had vanished, her steps tentative and meek, and her thumbs gently rubbed her arms, as her head swivelled in every direction.

A grunt sounded by Raiden, and his stare flickered to Erick on a stretcher, carried by two pirates leading him to the castle’s infirmary up the hill behind the city. A growl tore from his throat at the unconscious traitor. Erick Cadell had ruined everything, he’d become an infection, a parasite in their paradise. He’d torn apart Raiden’s family, taking a piece of his soul with him as he’d fled with Kordelia.

And she’d chosen to save his life.

He rolled his shoulders, an ache appearing between them as Erick’s body swerved through the crowds, disappearing through the market.

A swath of mercenaries interspersed the jovial crowd, welcoming their return, dressed head to toe in pale armour reminding Raiden of sunsets at the Aurora Gap. Hues of orange, pink, and white coming together in an armour designed for battle. Kordelia instantly stiffened, and instinct consumed Raiden to protect her, but Aryn stepped in, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

As Aerion led the group back through the winding city, following the pebbled path uphill to the castle Raiden had called home for years, the influx of guards increased. Spilling from pine trees lining the steep hill. A secret wave silently prowling behind Raiden’s hunched shoulders, their stares glued on Kordelia’s every movement, whilst he protected her back from behind.

Windspire Castle dazzled in the faint mid-afternoon sun, its orange-toned walls resembling the deepest of sunsets. Warmth and relief filled Raiden the closer he neared his home. Kordelia’s neck looked ready to snap in two as she surveyed the grounds, her devastating eyes widening so much they could’ve absorbed the sky whole.

Citrine walls met spiralling turrets dusted with sparkling flecks of moonstone embedded into the stone. Sweeping panes of glass framed by dark iron flooded the castle with light, and bountiful gardens surrounded the grounds, lined by pale stone paths and towering apple trees. The Mist settled across the hill, cooling the climate, but could never dull Windspire’s gleam.

“It’s beautiful,” Kordelia whispered, and Raiden nearly stumbled. It shocked him to witness her experiencing everything for the first time again. As if she hadn’t spent most of her life here . . . with him.

“Don’t worry, K, you’ll remember this old place in no time.” Aerion grinned over his shoulder as he pushed open the grand metal doors. Small chunks of moonstone glimmered in each bolt and ringed handles, charmed with deflection from enemies.

“K?” Raiden asked as they filed into the ballroom to the right, now the all-purpose room since the Mist. Erick’s unconscious body veered left and down the stairs towards their infirmary. Kordelia hesitated, her mouth parting as she watched Erick disappear. Aryn gently nudged her, gesturing to follow Aerion, whispering that Erick was safe.

“I thought a new nickname would be fun.” Aerion stood at the head of the opal table littered with his notes and reports on the war. On the far side of the large, tiled, pearlescent floor were multiple cots and blankets left over from when citizens slept in here last winter.

“It’s fine,” Kordelia spoke quickly, her voice thick. Her stare slid to the cots, her brow furrowing as she stood on the far side of the table away from Raiden. The space between them felt like miles stretching into eternity, and Raiden mentally probed their bond.

Kordelia’s gaze snapped to his in an instant, a glare replacing its curiosity, and he immediately retreated from the bond.

Fuck. Too soon.

“I wonder how much trouble we’ll be in,” Skylar hummed, her foot tapping on the tiles.

Raiden huffed. He couldn’t give a fuck right now about what Zephyr thought. The only thing he cared about stood so far from him and could barely look him in the eye. The ache in his back duplicated in his chest as Kordelia fidgeted, a nervous energy consuming her as her eyes continuously blinked.

“Trouble?” Kordelia asked, her hands tightening around her spindly arms.

“Trouble doesn’t even begin to cover it!”

Raiden’s gaze shuttered as Hector Read strode in, his pinstripe longcoat flapping behind his aged form. Leto stood to attention, his spine snapping straight as Hector stood at the opposite end of the table, surrounded by his most trusted pirates.

“Uh oh,” Mara called, fleeing from Leto’s shoulder to settle on the crystal chandeliers above. Cassidy followed shortly afterwards; her lasso looped around her curving hips.

“Ye directly disobeyed me,” Hector snapped, his beady stare sliding to Raiden. A faint whiff of grog tainted his breath and Raiden crossed his arms.

“We follow my father, and he’s not here right now,” Raiden retorted.

“We follow the code. As King of Pirates, I have every right to—”

A bitter laugh escaped Raiden. “King? Your king died long ago. You split the leadership between the lords.”

Cassidy pursed her lips as her red nails scraped the edge of her lasso. Her yellow shirt billowed around her breeches tucked into knee-high boots. “The code states the next in line takes the mantle. There must always be a king.”

“He’s hardly next in line.” Raiden bared his teeth at Hector. They’d had this conversation enough times to wake the dead.

Cassidy’s brown ringlets bounced as she approached the table. “In these circumstances, we did what we thought best. For the code.”

Hector’s stare narrowed on Kordelia stood between Aerion and Aryn, her eyes wide. His face twisted, his weather-beaten skin scrunching until his wrinkles resembled trenches. Combined with his thinning grey hair, rotting teeth, and threatening falchion sword at his side, he was a true pirate through and through.

“The pirate-killer should be locked up,” Hector switched to Devanian. “She murdered Cannon—a lord—in cold blood.”