Page 98 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

Kora gasped as John and Circe from The Abandoned Barnacle strode into arena, covered in blood and dirt.

42

Raiden

Raiden blinked rapidly, his fists clenching so hard he drew blood. Kora had been wrapped around him, her scent enthralling him so completely his body cried for violence towards whoever interrupted them.

A hound barrelled past, breaking Raiden’s trance as its drool splashed against the cherry hardwood floor, one of its tails flicking Raiden’s legs as it shoved its face into Kora’s lap. Her gasp returned Raiden to reality as an unfamiliar male followed, his striking blue eyes and black hair a contrast to the female at his side. Her honeyed locks and orange irises caused Raiden to still, and he sensed power lurking beneath.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” the male yelled, and a growl ripped from Raiden’s throat as the Huntress’ eyes narrowed on the male.

“Me? I was looking for you until you disappeared. I thought you were dead,” Kora spoke with familiarity, and it was enough for common sense to ricochet back into Raiden’s mind. He rubbed his forehead, blinking away the primal haze that’d consumed him.

“You had your clan hunt me down!” Kora stood, brushing the hound’s head as she squared up to the mystery male. He did what?

The male froze. “How do you know that?”

“John, she discovered the clan back at the tavern. Digs told me as much.” The fiery female rolled her eyes. “Not exactly the most secret hiding place.”

“The doors are enchanted,” he hissed back. “We can choose who we let in.”

“Well, she still managed to get in and nearly destroyed the tavern whilst doing it.”

“John? Circe?” Raiden whipped his head to Skylar as she approached. John’s eyes widened as he dropped to his knees, pulling Circe down with him, causing her to grumble.

“Your Highness,” John spoke with reverence, and Raiden’s attention shifted to his sister. Skylar waved him off, helping him to his feet. “I haven’t seen you in over ten years.”

“Skylar . . .” Raiden stepped forward. “What’s going on?”

“You know each other?” Kora followed. Her chest visibly heaved, her brow furrowing as those astute eyes flicked between them.

What in Haizea was going on?

Skylar sighed in response, absentmindedly touching the scar on her forehead before puffing her chest.

“I took matters into my own hands before the Mist,” Skylar said quietly, yet her voice echoed in the empty arena. “Barron’s advance was too great, and we needed allies everywhere. In case . . . in case we failed.”

“The Mist was a freak accident,” Raiden replied, confusion clouding his thoughts. The way Skylar’s hooded eyes glanced away, her lips thinning made his gut twist. “There was no way we could’ve prepared for what happened.”

“Perhaps,” she dragged the word out. “But Barron was strategic. I can’t explain it, Rai, I just knew we were going to fail. That our efforts would be for naught. I reached out, using my gift, across the islands. Seeking those who opposed him.”

“You created the clan,” Kora interrupted. Her eyes wide like saucers, her face pale, and she took a step back. “The Skytors. It’s in the name.”

“Aye, and we gladly serve,” John added, anger radiating from him so much, it thickened the atmosphere. “Without us, far more would be dead. We’ve sheltered hundreds of mages and humans alike, away from the corruption of the empire. We’ve become our own army. We continued what Galen couldn’t.”

The last words stung and Raiden internally flinched, pushing down the large wave of memories in revolving darkness, the fear of being trapped once again.

Kora glanced at him curiously, and he internally probed, seeking that thread between them, wondering whether he’d just sent that fear down the bond.

“But you,” John bared his sharp teeth at Kora. “What happened to my husband? Is Finlay truly dead?”

Raiden stumbled in time with Kora, their synchronicity increasing each day, as her breathing quickened, her hands trembling. He distantly recalled the snap of a sailor’s neck, as he’d begged Kora to save him before he’d choked to death. The death in his eyes haunted her, and even now, she sucked in a breath that he suspected disguised a whimper.

“He was murdered,” Kora lifted her chin. “Blake betrayed me, setting two pirate captives loose, knowing Finlay was a spy. They killed dozens.”

“Blake Marwood,” John audibly snarled, his fists clenched. “I’ll kill him. He stole my entire life from me! My ayterni!”

“Get in line,” Aryn snorted.