Page 72 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“The forest reaches the top of the Mist, it can pull sunlight from there. As for the gardens,” Raiden smiled, “magic does wonderful things.”

It was so . . . insightful, seeing it from the other side. Raiden’s nearness ricocheted from delightful warmth to a damning inferno, and Kora carried forward. “What about Skylar’s powers?”

“She’s always been more interested in combat than wielding. She can project her voice if needed, which is handy when you need to lead an army.” As they stopped outside her door, Kora suddenly realised she didn’t want this conversation to end.

“So . . . you’re the most powerful?” She glanced up at him through lowered lashes and Raiden audibly swallowed.

“My father is the most gifted. You need to be careful around him. He may have disappeared for now, but he’s always watching. Hunters forget to watch their own backs.” Raiden’s gaze darkened, and Kora couldn’t resist the squeeze of her thighs. What was this male doing to her?

Zephyr hadn’t shown his face since their agreed parley, and Kora assumed he’d possessed some lavish quarters somewhere in this spiralling castle. She was all too aware of her looming deadline, of every second that passed whilst Erick still slept in his coma. Every sunset and sunrise Samuel, Theron, and Ivar spent in Barron’s clutches.

“My daggers protect my back.” Kora opened the door. “What were my previous powers like?”

A sad smile tugged at Raiden’s lips and Kora’s chest panged.

“Honestly? Something similar to a kraken. Your preferred technique was tentacles of water from your back. It was . . . unusual.”

Kora stilled, the connection to the kraken in the Black Abyss ringing at her. She’d resigned herself to believing Davy Jones was dead. Erick had assumed the same. She’d implored with Aerion her first night here about it; whether he knew of any history in his collection of surviving the trench and the creatures within. He’d assured her Barron was taunting her, that Davy had passed away that day, sent to his death by Erick.

It was a confusing conundrum, fiercely protecting someone who’d caused so much loss.

“Where do you go, little Huntress?” Raiden’s head was cocked as he studied her, with his hands casually shoved in his pockets. His jaw was slightly clenched, and a small sheen of sweat glistened from his forehead. In fact, he was a little pale.

Kora shook her head, ignoring how the nickname no longer irritated her, but caused her skin to pimple. A small caress of wind brushed the shell of her ear. “It’s been a long day. And once again, no answers on my past.”

“Well, once you have me pinned under you, you’ll find out,” Raiden murmured, leaning forward slightly. Kora’s breath caught as the inferno in her core ignited, consuming her entirely. She could hardly breathe.

“Or you could just tell me something.” She did her best impression of Conan’s sad eyes, pouting her bottom lip.

Raiden’s stare trailed to her lips, then back to her eyes as he rested one arm against the doorframe. His entire presence slammed into her, and Kora inhaled his scent like a drug. She wobbled as imaginary bands of wind clenched tighter around her thighs, her hips, even her waist.

Raiden raised his other hand, flexing his fingers. Another moment later, a single stemmed hydrangea floated down the hall from nowhere. He held the white flower between them, spinning the stem between two fingers.

“This was your favourite flower,” he spoke softly. “Your favourite colour was the darkest of blues, as dark as the deep of Shaurock Sea. You feared heights, and never ventured higher than half-mast. Davy was your favourite person in the world, and no one ever came close to him. Not even me. You look so much like him.”

Kora gasped, taking the flower from Raiden. An offering. A token of truth. She bit her lip harder and his other hand cupped her jaw, his thumb dragging her bottom lip from between her teeth.

“Some of those things are still true.” She smiled with gratitude, and Raiden’s thumb swept across her cheek, leaving a blazing trail of embers before pulling away. “Thank you, Raiden.” Her heart filled as her fantasies of family members with her sea-foam hair and blue eyes now possessed a tinge of truth.

As Raiden bid her goodnight, Kora staggered over to the bed, collapsing on top without the support of his phantom winds. Hands brushed over her thighs that felt strangely warm and she closed her eyes, inhaling a scent that reminded her of fortitude.

32

Raiden

10 years ago

Raiden never admitted that the darkness brought him comfort at times. He sat, unpeeling a starfruit grown in the fields by Haizea’s Rift, as the moon rose in the sky. Windspire Castle was rife with life, bustling with their growing army and an endless sea of pirates.

The empire was coming for them. They didn’t know when, or where, but the Galenite War was almost over. Sooner or later, the final move was about to be made. Outrage from the gods hung thick in the air. Stormy seas, biting winds, dying crops, and a burning sun punished them daily. No one else could see it, but Raiden . . . he felt it in his bones. Sometimes, he thought he could hear a female gently weeping, the husky sound wrapping around his skull like an oddly soothing blanket he didn’t realise he needed.

Erick strode past, clad in his favoured burgundy tunic as he stormed downhill towards Mistros City to prepare the ships. Davy strolled beside him, sticking out like a sore thumb with his dazzling hair, endless tattoos, and bewitching blue eyes. Kordelia looked so much like him, and Raiden’s chest tightened.

Death was coming once again. He could lose them all. It would be his fault all over again.

Haunting memories of the Devanian Conquest shuddered through his body, rolling waves of horror, a battlefield of bodies as Admiral Darkon reigned supreme. Only to be replaced by Barron, a replica in every dark way.

“Shouldn’t you be going with them?” An intoxicating scent pulled Raiden’s attention as she sat beside him on the stone steps of the castle entrance.