Page 126 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“Ha.” She sat down at the table. “You don’t tell me what to do, Rai.”

He froze, his nickname uttered from her lips almost undoing him. She also stilled, her stare rising to meet his, her mouth opening and closing as if she’d just realised. Her cheeks heated as Aerion halted a few feet away, his brows raising.

“Are we interrupting?” Aryn stumbled into Aerion’s back, his attention snapping to the hand-painted ceiling of the gods.

It’d taken Raiden years to complete.

“Just in time to do a lot of reading.” Kora opened the first tome.

“I’m here to study the skildaj bond. No offence, K, but I don’t want my boyfriend to suddenly turn straight on me.” Aerion wriggled his tattooed fingers, and shelves creaked as endless stacks of books pulled from shelves, piling effortlessly at his feet. Now that was showing off. Kora studied him for a moment, her stare flickering between a warm spark, and a glacial crevasse.

Aryn rubbed the back of his neck, wincing slightly.

“I’m willing to discuss terms if it means a safe separation.” Kora’s cheeks dimpled, her sign she was nibbling them. “Aryn, I’m still mad at you. I still don’t understand why you did it.”

“Likewise,” Raiden added.

But Aryn remained silent, his mouth thinning as his hooded stare darted between all three of them. After a moment of awkward silence, Aerion grabbed his cheek, squeezing lightly. “It’s hard to stay mad at your lovable face.”

“Brother, please. I’ll get you all something to eat,” Raiden replied, quickly exiting the library before he did—or said—something stupid. Kora’s gaze tracked him across the grey-and-white floor as he rushed through the large doors, a simmering heat permanently coiled within. He brushed the iced bracelet still intact around his wrist. Tiny beads, smaller than a pea, in a simple circlet. It wasn’t cold to the touch, and the way the light reflected off it reminded him of Galen.

Fuck.

So help him, Haizea.

He was in deep, tantalising trouble.

55

Kora

The first day had been a waste. The books Kora had chosen were so decrepit their information was illegible. She sighed as she snapped another book shut the following morning, leaning back to stare up at the stunning ceiling. She kept gravitating to Thanos’ grey veil and soul stars—what she wouldn’t give to tell the painter how accurate they’d been. She peered at a dark spot that followed, the stars fading into nothing in the furthest corner, away from the sweeping windows.

A distracting bowl of berried porridge floated towards her, with a spoon shortly following it. She laughed as Raiden sat opposite her with a lopsided smile, practically inhaling his coffee.

“As an archive, you’d think there’d be librarians or scholars here that could point me in the right direction.” Kora pointed at Raiden with her spoon. His smile instantly faded.

“There were . . . the Mist it . . . it was so dark. Skybell had been cut off from Mistros, and many had perished. The first few years the Mist was so thick you couldn’t see farther than a few feet ahead. It eventually settled, levelling out across the island. But those who lived here, either died off, or tried to make the journey to Mistros City . . . and it didn’t make it.” Raiden’s stare fractured and Kora dipped her head.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, guilt scratching her insides. “I spent years grateful for the Mist. Wishing for your destruction. Believing your island was soulless, dark, and full of death.”

“What do you think of us now?”

“I think you’re beautiful,” the words slipped from her mouth and her cheeks heated. “The island, I mean.”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Raiden lifted his mug. “About the island, of course.”

Tension hung thick in the area to the point Kora struggled to swallow her porridge. Aryn was out on one of his many perimeter checks. Despite Raiden advocating for Galen’s safety, the archer still believed threats were imminent, and he was casing the northern coastline for signs of Barron’s ships. Aerion had grumbled something about not waking up before midday, and was yet to grace them with his slowly darkening mood.

Apparently, there weren’t many scriptures on skildaj bonds. Kora wasn’t sure how she felt about it all. Aryn’s presence strengthened her along with the iridweed boost, allowing her to wield without her nose gushing blood, but Aerion was determined to find a way to break the bond—safely.

“There’s one person who could help,” Raiden sighed rubbing his face. He raised his hand, his eyes crinkling with concentration. With a flick of his fingers, three books flew down from a mid-level shelf, landing with a sudden thud by Kora’s elbow.

“Is that your way of saying you?”

He shrugged. “I spent a lot of time in here during my personal exile from the family.”

“Exile? Your father sent you here?” Rage blinded Kora momentarily, the red haze surging with ferocity and she sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, counting the seconds until it passed.