Page 58 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“My father has ordered Hector and Leto to scout the seas for more information on Barron’s army. Now he knows Barron no longer resides in the Citadel, his movements are even more interesting. Leto’s power can only extend to two fleets before it drains him, so Cassidy will remain here. Mostly because Hector can’t bear anyone else to steal the glory from him.”

“Will he share this information?” Kora tapped her foot.

“Unlikely. He will try to disadvantage you where he can.” Raiden winced, pity consuming his stare. “But a deal with Zephyr never normally leads to death, this is unwarranted.”

“Good thing I’m friends with him,” Kora muttered under her breath, but Raiden peered at her curiously. Shit, had he heard that?

“Hector has convinced my father that keeping out of the war is in our best interests. He’s only allowing you to do this to see how far you can get; whether retaliation is worth it . . . especially after last time.” Raiden’s stare didn’t waver. Diamonds pinned Kora in place as a murky memory of watery shadows rose up from the depths . . . and a glimpse of a tattooed male with gleaming white hair.

“So I’m a guinea pig for war, got it.”

“If anyone can, it’s you.” Aryn nudged Kora with a gentle smile. His usual features had returned, appearing as the youthful archer he’d always been. Kora returned his smile nervously, but Aryn’s smile dissipated. Despite the hidden nature, that familiar stone in her chest warmed around him, pulling her to his presence.

She had to trust him.

“It won’t stop me, that’s for sure.” Aerion sauntered up beside Aryn, his cream tunic unbuttoned at his neck. “I’ve been planning our comeback for a decade. I can’t let my organisational chart go to waste.”

“Plans on paper are nothing when faced with an army that repels magic,” Raiden groaned, rubbing his face.

Kora stiffened. She’d forgotten how Raiden’s magic bounced off their armour at Mossfell Castle, how mindless those guards had been, impervious to pain and their surroundings.

“They’re like shades,” she whispered. “Barron has done something to them.” She tapped her scar and Raiden grimly nodded, understanding.

“Until then, you need to train to give yourself the best chance,” Raiden replied. “You need to get stronger here,” he gestured to her body, “but also here.” He pointed to her head. “I’m not letting you charge after Barron until you’re back to your full strength, and your power restored.”

“Not letting me?” Kora’s voice rose.

Aryn cursed under his breath, edging away.

“You heard me.” Raiden stepped closer. “You have six weeks until the full moon after Hallow’s Day. Six weeks to train, eat, and recover. Barron is stronger than all of us combined. His power unpredictable, and not of the gods’. We don’t know what it can do, how far it can reach, or how dangerous it is.”

“I’m sick of males telling me what to do,” Kora snapped, their bodies inches apart so her neck craned to glare up at him.

“Maybe stop getting yourself into situations where we have to.” Raiden was so close she was hit with dizzying waves of fresh, unrelenting air pulsing from him. His scent so close, she could’ve sworn it tasted like pure, unyielding freedom. Of what it would feel like to soar, to be filled with such strength she could wield ten swords.

“I didn’t spend ten years confined to this dark prison, guiding you through horrors, to watch you put yourself in danger right in front of me.”

“I never asked you to do that,” Kora whispered.

“Huntress, you never need to ask.”

His dark lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and Kora’s toes curled at how his eyes sparkled, absorbing the orange tones of the castle and reflecting it back at her. Raiden’s hair shone, the colour of weapons, of forged steel and mighty cannons, and her fingers twitched, curious to know whether it was as coarse as it looked, or like fine silk.

“Erm . . . should we go?” Aerion coughed and Aryn’s cheeks heated. Kora jumped, suddenly aware of how her chest brushed Raiden’s and she stepped back, her face matching Aryn’s.

“Rai!” A voice burst their bubble, and the healer bounced over from Skylar and Cassidy, who remained by the far side of the foyer, their heads close as they giggled, sneaking glances at Kora. Her cheeks heated from an ember to a flame, wondering what was so funny.

The groan from Raiden was so audible that Kora, Aerion, and Aryn all raised their brows.

“Rai Rai,” she repeated, sidling up to Raiden’s side. Aerion cringed as Kora swatted the female’s wild hair from her face.

The heat coiling in Kora evaporated with a cold splash as this female—a healer from the daily check-ups—beamed at Raiden. Her dark eyes sparkled, her grin stretched wide as she flicked her blonde locks over her shoulder, the ends flicking Kora in the fucking face again.

“I heard your father has returned.” Her voice was like honeyed syrup, sickeningly sweet—too sweet for Kora’s tastes. “I had hoped for you to introduce me to him finally.”

“Zephyr is a busy male, being king and all.” Raiden’s tone frosted.

The healer laughed, and Kora’s familiar haze crept in, whispering to her, telling her to silence the annoying female. She was tall, blessed with gracious curves that her beige uniform clung to—skirts, with a waistcoat and white shirt.