Page 48 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“What do you think you’re doing? Go back, go back now!”

“Raiden, I can’t. I can’t keep doing this to him. I’m just causing Aerion more pain.”

“This will break him. You will break him. Don’t make me drag you back.”

“He doesn’t understand. He thinks I don’t love him. He can’t see I have no choice in what I do. I’m sorry.”

Aryn disappeared, his shoulders hunched as Raiden shook off the memory. Perhaps Aryn was right. Skylar and Aerion, too. Living in the past wasn’t healthy, just like how Aryn and Aerion had seemingly moved on together. Raiden’s mind and heart warred, one desperately clinging onto the female he’d loved fiercely, who’d been the beacon in defeating the empire from before. Yet, his mind wondered whether Kordelia truly was buried beneath the hardened shell of the pirate-hunter on the other side of the door.

Raiden needed to accept that he may never gain what he’d already lost. He needed to stop living in the past, to see the soul that was suffering, who felt alone in her present. He needed to see the Huntress for who she truly was. Whether she would be their salvation . . . or their damnation.

Raiden’s wrists ached the following day as he placed the tray before the shimmering moonstone door. He had decorated it the month after Kordelia’s disappearance, as an homage to her memory and her power. He flexed his stiff fingers, a persistent ache lining his taut frame that he’d been unable to shift since escaping Talmon. Even breathing felt difficult today, the air he inhaled thin and raspy.

Leto’s magic pulsed before Raiden had the chance to step back, its familiarity sweeping over him. Kora’s door opened dramatically. Raiden froze as he repeated her favoured name in his mind. A rush of salted vanilla air blasting his face as she inspected the ornate tray by her bare feet. Raiden held his breath, using his magic along with Leto’s as the thinnest of barriers separated him from Kora.

Her eyes widened and she sat cross-legged in front of him, tucking her pearl-white strands behind her round ears. Raiden hovered, transfixed as Kora plucked a chocolate tart from the tray. He’d painstakingly spent hours on the lamination of the pastry, until his wrists could’ve snapped in two. It’d been worse than sparring.

As the first of the Windward siblings, Raiden had fallen in love with cooking at a young age. One of his favourite memories of his mother—Ilma—was in the castle kitchens. The way the sunset walls had bounced off her sweeping blonde hair as her toned arms had kneaded dough to smooth perfection whilst singing. They became his favourite moments throughout childhood, catching her in the big pauses between his siblings slowly filling the castle.

A place where a queen could just be who she was in her heart—a mother.

He’d learnt every recipe she’d shown him. Tried different traditional foods from all the islands—including the continent—and yet nothing had been better than his mother’s cooking. To this day, he still baked the first recipe she’d taught him on her birthday, honouring her memory. A simple apple and cinnamon pie, using the local trees.

A moan broke Raiden’s thoughts and—holy Haizea. Kora ate the chocolate tart in one mouthful. Raiden nearly gods-damned pounced, his breeches tightening, the sound causing his blood to pound. She tore into the spiced seabass covered in a cream sauce on a bed of rich tomato chickpeas. The spice was unique to Galen, an exotic, smoky flavour with a hint of heat. Kordelia had hated it, preferring hearty, simple meals to fuel her endless training for the Galenite War.

But Kora . . . she wolfed it down with impressive speed, with all the manners of a pirate. Her beautiful lips working as she consumed the small feast Raiden had created, not even retreating into her room with the food. Finally, she paused at a lone sea-biscuit on the platter, infused with local flora and a touch of apple. Hesitation crossed her heart-shaped face, her teeth visibly nibbling her cheek, and Raiden resisted the urge to reach out and stop the frequent habit he’d noticed.

Eventually, she cradled it in her hands as though it were a babe. As she turned, a curse tore from Raiden’s lips. Kora donned navy breeches, with a white shirt that was far too big on her. But gods damn, her arse. Beautifully rounded and irresistible.

He knew Kordelia’s wardrobe was full of skirts, so where had Kora found the clothing? His blood simmered at the thought of another male in her chambers, giving her their clothes. The Huntress swivelled, her oceanic eyes staring right at Raiden, and he stilled like prey caught in a trap. Her nostrils flared, and he wondered if she could scent him as easily as he could scent her. He shut down the bond, not daring to probe it, not wanting to fuel her ire towards him.

A moment passed, and Kora closed her door with a pout.

The barrier vanished, and Raiden collected the tray before darting back to Leto, whose iridescent eyes were so wide, they nearly popped like his magic.

“That was close,” he signed as they strolled back to the kitchens. A smile tugged at the corners of Raiden’s mouth, his chest lifting as he glanced down at the empty tray. “Can we go to the Lagoon now? Why are you smiling?”

“I think I’m beginning to figure her out.”

21

Kora

Darkness. It was everywhere. Consuming her, submerging her . . . drowning her.

Kora screamed, writhing as it pooled, reaching like the suckers of a kraken. Their ghastly holes and lines of razor teeth glinted, flashing against the black of the void. Ice spread across her skin every time one slithered by, their slimy exteriors puckering over her emaciated body.

“No! Get away from me!”

Gravity vanished, and she free-fell, suspended in a limitless expanse of fear. Her cries echoed, bouncing around, vibrating down the length of her spine where claws answered in return. Sharp talons, shredding her despair, her grief, allowing the inner rage to emerge.

White light bloomed, blinding her eyes, and she grabbed onto the tentacles, screaming with all her might as their touch seared her palms until they turned purple.

“So, weak,” a voice answered. “So, pathetic.”

Kora yelled in response, grabbing onto every sucker, every slimy, black snake as she descended further away from the light.

“You will fail. You are not blessed.” The mysterious voice laughed, a sinister cackle that pounded Kora’s ears until they bled.