Page 50 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“It was a mistake!” she pleaded. “I didn’t know. I promise!”

The smoke mirrored her, and the citizens ran as it raised her arms. Kora hissed as talons dug into her skin and a pair of sharp purple eyes glowed in the darkness. Her water beast growled, growing louder, and screams echoed around her. The ocean roared in the distance, and Kora bellowed as she tried to push forward to it.

She shouldn’t be here. Galenites feared her. She had killed their families, their friends. She had to leave.

“Kora!”

Aryn darted through the shadows, his eyes burning as bright as the lanterns. The darkness peeled back, parting for him like he was the prince of the night. The talons disappeared, those purple eyes shooting up into the sky.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured, revealing a cloak from a satchel slung across his shoulder, replacing his usual longbow. She shivered as he covered her hair, tugging her back towards him.

“Agatha . . .” Kora whimpered. “I saw her.”

“You were probably dreaming.” He spoke dryly as he pulled her towards the gate. “You can’t be seen right now. Word has spread of what you did in the empire.”

“They fear me. They hate me.”

Her gut hollowed, as Aryn guided her into the shadows of the forest, helping her walk back up the hill to Windspire Castle. Her breathing became wet and laboured, her own darkness coating her chest in ichor.

“This has Hector written all over,” Aryn growled, and Kora was unnerved to hear him speak such a way. “He must’ve leaked the information.”

Pale-stone mercenaries stormed the entrance of the castle, swords glinting in the faint moonlight, and Aryn waved them down as he escorted Kora inside. Before the iron doors slammed shut, she glanced back to the city. Fear smothered her again as screams echoed up the hill and into the forest.

22

Kora

The healers scurried from Kora’s chambers. It’d been their sixth visit in six days, always at midday, like a well-oiled shipping port. A female healer with billowing pale blonde hair turned her nose up as Kora twirled an envelope knife in one hand and munched on another chocolate tart with the other. She darted from the room as the knife glinted at her, whilst scribbling notes in a leather folio.

Good riddance.

Kora was sick of them watching her like she would combust at any second. They’d refused to divulge any updates on Erick’s condition, and Kora was still reluctant to leave the safety of her room. The only good thing the healers had done was leave copious amounts of arnica salve. It was nothing on Koji’s special remedies though.

Koji. Kora hoped he was safe and well. Although, knowing him, he’d have a lavish contract somewhere else by now.

Her gut silenced as she swallowed the remainder of the sweet treat. Kora had lost count of how many tarts she’d consumed. Someone had been leaving mouthwatering pastries outside of her door for days now. Delectable dishes from across the lands, plus a few she didn’t recognise but were equally delicious. Far better than the meals at the start. The boar stew had nearly made her vomit, conjuring unwanted flashes of the Silent Tundra, and branded exiles dressed in animal hides.

She made a mental note to thank the castle chef as she browsed the armoire, her arms sore as she arranged the space. The healers had inspected and prodded her for hours this time, asking her weird questions like ‘what would you choose between a forest, a mountain, or a beach.’ Kora snorted. The most bizarre experience she’d ever encountered with healers. It almost made her miss Koji’s efficient, cold manner. Her fingers brushed over the premium fabric of her newly stocked attire, an assortment of breeches, shirts, leathers, and sparring gear.

Skylar had stopped by on day three, after the healers advised Kora to remain within the west wing of the castle, away from potential ‘emotional triggers.’ She assumed Aryn had told them of her sleepwalking to the city.

Skylar had granted Kora more comfortable attire as per her wishes. Skirts weren’t ideal if she needed to fight within a moment’s notice, and her nerves were fried since this haunting dark presence visited her every night. Plus, there was something about breeches and trousers that felt more . . . her. It felt odd to wear the clothing of Kordelia, who was a stranger to Kora. Almost as if they were two separate beings.

Kora scoffed as she shut the armoire, glancing at the previous items discarded in a trunk to the right, by the door leading to her own bathing chamber. She had once thought her clothing had been too manly, too undesirable in the perception of society. Gods, she had wanted to dress like Bree of all people.

She would never doubt herself again.

A breeze circled Kora from the open balcony doors and she flicked her growing hair, savouring the intermittent current. The cream blanket was now draped across the bed, tousled from nights Kora spent pouring all her grief into the plush pillows. The large bed dominated the space, and it was like sleeping on a cloud.

A pile of books had joined the wooden chair, becoming Kora’s new reading nook that she’d moved to beneath the mezzanine. A mix of Galenite history books, traditional fighting techniques, and ancient lore of Devania. These had been a gift from Aerion, who’d stopped by the first night in a desperate state to reassure Kora she wasn’t going to end up in a dungeon as per Hector’s wishes.

Thank the gods for that. Her mind had violently spun that first day after Hector demanded her arrest, vivid hallucinations of the spiral dungeons beneath the boughs of Mossfell Castle haunting her.

Aryn had attempted a visit the following day, checking in on her after discovering her in the city, with an offer to spar. But every time she tried to leave the room, a horrid weight bound her chest so tightly, she’d rush to the bathing chamber to retch her empty stomach. Aryn stroked her back, holding her grown hair up—which was a new sensation—as she sobbed to him about abandoning Samuel, Theron, and Ivar again. They’d reminisced into the early hours, pouring their grief out to each other.

Each day, she felt closer to Aryn, the only familiar face in this foreign land. The anchor in her core heating with the warmth of friendship and stability whenever he was around. He’d promised to be there for her, and every time he showed up, the trust grew between them.

Another reason the healers wanted her confined. This space was healing for her, turning into a haven that was hers. She just wished she could visit Erick.