Page 145 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

The Galenite War

63

Raiden

By Haizea’s sweet, blessed air, Raiden Windward’s heart was free-falling. Kora was more than he could have ever imagined. She’d curled up by his side the entire night, her breathing satiating Raiden’s burning need to know she was alive. That she was safe. That she was protected from the nightmares.

The following morning, Kora decided to ditch the books. Their plan to commence the journey home that afternoon, after her discovery about Admiral Darkon, had left her wanting to explore Skybell. It suited her, the pearlescent castle, the coastal cliff face where the sea raged against it. Her pale hair whipped in the winds, pulling a knitted blue fleece tighter around her body as her bare feet wallowed in the ocean.

Raiden waited, watching her from the shore. His heart so full it scared him. Aerion and Aryn had joined, the former dancing around Kora, his bitterness towards the skildaj bond strangely forgotten as she laughed with him. Aryn sat beside Raiden, the smallest of smiles on his youthful face as his hazel eyes never left Aerion.

“Aryn,” Raiden shifted his attention away from his ruhni. “If you ever break my brother’s heart again, just know I will kill you.”

“My love for him will never die. I promise, I won’t leave this time,” Aryn replied smoothly, his fingers trailing along the longbow resting in the sand beside him. Dressed in brown leathers crusted with sand, Aryn’s smile wavered. His hair had grown, straight locks fluttering in the increasing winds. A waft of spiced amber crossed Raiden’s nose and it wrinkled, his brow furrowing.

“Have you claimed each other?”

Aryn’s stare slid to Raiden. “No. Have you?”

Raiden shook his head, the iced bangle around his wrist glinting at him. Last night had been beyond amazing, even if they couldn’t fully unite. Hours spent exploring each other’s bodies, asking stories about how scars were earned, in between the most intense releases Raiden had ever experienced. But there were conversations they needed to have. Kora needed to learn about Galenite customs, about the weight and depth of vows on this magical island.

Because he was so ready. He wanted to keep her, as his little slice of light. Shield her from all the bad in the world. As soon as they returned to Mistros City, he’d get Sirona to cook up a batch of protection tonics.

“Hey!” Aerion’s laugh broke through, as Kora playfully sent a small stream of water at him. Soon, their playfulness developed into tactics, their magic rebounding off one another in a lesson of shielding.

“If you ever feel like the Tvinnr Fyr is forcing you to feel something—” Aryn released a long sigh, cutting off Raiden.

“Windward, stop. Trust me when I tell you this, but I’ve got a very strong sense we will never need to worry about that.” Aryn’s pointed stare whipped between Raiden and Kora.

“Why did you do it? You tricked her. She’s been through enough of that.” Raiden tensed. He would never know why Kordelia had accepted the bond pre-Mist, those memories now lost. Too dangerous to recover.

“I can’t say. Just know, the gods have paths for all of us.” Aryn stood, collecting his longbow as he strolled towards Kora and Aerion.

Raiden frowned. The gods? What would the gods have to do with a skildaj bond? Kora had confirmed they still lingered, somewhere within an unreachable realm. But their influence no longer manifested within this world.

Kora’s smile broke through the cloud in his mind, dazzling against the grey sky. Her hair glowed, her eyes bright and her cheeks blushed from the winds. She was breathtaking, and her enjoyment in his natural element had him raring to take her into his chambers again.

“Easy, you animal,” Kora projected.

“That obvious?” He smirked.

“Your arousal is practically clogging the bond.”

He loved how open it was, how it naturally flowed both ways. The connection burned in the back of his mind, the white lifeline tying them together. He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t going to float away again.

He’d spent the morning flying her around the hills of Skybell, from the edges of the Horrow Mountains, to the northern watchtowers. In the summer, endless bluebells graced the hills, but now they’d faded in the colder months, the sparse trees were a decadent hue of oranges and reds.

Raiden stretched, striding towards the ocean where Aryn instructed Kora how to shield, then follow with a parry. The midnight dagger Raiden had gifted her glinted in her palm, and his veins thrummed at how effortlessly she wielded it, dressed head-to-toe in black leathers beneath his favoured fleece, to protect her from the biting chill settling across the north of the island. Winter would arrive within a month or two.

“Good, now next time try going for Aerion’s—”

A foghorn cut through the air.

Raiden froze, his full heart bursting with fear. Kora balked, pivoting towards the Mist. It lingered so far out, miles of ocean visible before the barrier between Galen and the rest of the world.

It sounded again. Blaring. Louder than before.

“Rai,” Aerion hissed. “We have no army here!”