Page 45 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

Pirate-killer.

Murderer.

Soul reaper.

She gasped, her hand flying to her chest in a feeble attempt to soothe her thundering heart. Her knees quaked as she gulped down the cool air, but her skin flushed with shameful heat, her mind ricocheting. Jack Flint had been right from the beginning. Who knew the scrawny pirate had as much insight as a witch seer?

Kora stumbled forward, her left hand flying out to grip the nearest surface for stability. Her fingers closed around parchment and her head whipped up.

A bedroom. Long in width, with the same, dusky, orange-painted walls, meeting a curved ceiling with a pointed centre. Large, glass double doors lined the mezzanine on the left, the glass stained in multi-coloured squares of blues, oranges and purples. Wooden floorboards replaced the overly dazzling tiles from the rest of the castle and matched the dark furniture. Plain cream bedding was tucked in so tightly to the bedframe it’d require multiple sailors to rip it from its restraint.

Kora glanced down to her left. A desk, with stacks of parchment, leather-bound books, and ink quills lined the surface symmetrically, perfectly proportional from one another. And on the far side, were two, gleaming, beautiful letter openers.

Sweet Calypso.

She lunged, clasping the metal between her shaking fingers. It wasn’t the same, the weight unbalanced, the edges dull, the silver embellishment plain. But it was something similar to before. To the Kora that could fight.

Two raps sounded at the door. “It’s me. I’m coming in.”

Kora whirled as Raiden’s large form shouldered through the door. His eyes were bright, their evolving sparkle lighting up the room. He quickly shut the door behind him as Kora rushed to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

She was sick of crying.

“I wanted to be alone,” she remarked. How had he found her?

Raiden’s stare cased the room as though he hadn’t heard her, pausing at every little bland detail, before lingering on the bed. He remained by the door, his hands twitching before meeting Kora’s gaze. Her stomach flipped.

“How did you know to come here?”

She frowned. “I was trying to get away as far as possible.”

“You . . . you don’t know what this room is?”

Kora glanced around again, her hands gripping the knives behind her lower back. It was an ordinary room, the furnishings simple, the floor bare except for a simple red rug between the bed and the armoire. No drawings, no books, not even a piece of discarded clothing. A single candle donned the bedside on the left, its wick untouched. Before the balcony doors was an empty space except for a lone wooden chair with a cream blanket draped over the plush white upholstery.

Trunks lined the space beneath the mezzanine, which was shrouded in darkness and looked as equally cold as Kora felt.

“This is your room,” Raiden’s voice held so much weight Kora nearly dropped her knives. “You slept here every night for years.”

This . . . this was her past? Kora frowned. There was nothing here. No personality, no evidence of a life lived. A lump formed in her throat. This didn’t feel like her, compared to colourful chaos of her chambers in Cadell Manor. Books, weapons, clothes covering every surface. Nothing like what she could only describe as sterile and minimalist. She inhaled, missing the eucalyptus candles, the winding wisteria, the warm terracotta tiles.

She glanced back down at the desk, only just noticing the subtle ‘K.J.’ etched into the bottom right corner.

Out of everything, she’d claimed a damned desk.

“It’s just . . . coincidence,” Kora whispered, edging closer to Raiden, needing his warmth to combat the chill of the darkness lurking within.

“Maybe it’s a sign.” Painful hope lined his features, which Kora knew she couldn’t fulfil. She looked away, unable to face it a second longer.

“I’m sorry, Raiden. It’s been ten years, my memory won’t be coming back.”

“Ah, you didn’t have me before,” he winked. “We’ll get you back to normal in no time.”

Normal.

She flinched and Raiden’s hope vanished, replaced with shock. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that . . .” He exhaled, running both hands through his platinum locks. “There’s so much history you need to remember. So many things about Windspire, about Galen, all the islands, everything.”

There was something unsaid within his words and Kora studied him. His frame was taut, all harsh lines and rounded muscles. His jaw continuously ticked, as though he were biting his tongue.