10
Kora
Apparently, Bree hadn’t known the depth of Kora’s relationship with Blake, and she almost felt a bit sorry for her as she began screaming and crying at Blake.
At how deceitful he was, at the whore Kora supposedly was.
Every insult hurtled her way flew over her head as Kora continuously stared at her plate of food, the steam rapidly fading as it cooled.
She had more important things on her mind.
Erick watched the argument unfurl with wide eyes, interspersed with glares that could kill directed at Blake.
Kora supposed it was a revelation for him, too.
He’d tried so hard to keep them apart, only to find out Blake had burrowed his way into Kora’s heart regardless.
Agatha rolled her eyes, taking her time sipping her water as she repeatedly cased the room as if she could see it, her stare pausing occasionally on the gilded entrance doors.
“Brisella Hydrafort!” a deep voice boomed and Kora jolted in her chair.
Bree’s incessant whining ceased, as Otto and Rashi Hydrafort waltzed into the room.
Long, thick locks hung around his squared face, whilst Rashi’s curls were swept up from her slender, permanently pinched features, smattered with dark freckles.
Distastefully dressed in matching blue and gold attire to Bree, their clothes billowed around their lithe bodies.
The ever-perfect family.
“Brisella?” Kora perked up, throwing a smirk towards Bree.
She hadn’t heard this nickname once when she’d visited Bree’s estate all those years ago after the ballroom incident.
In fairness, Kora had avoided Otto and Rashi as much as possible, their anger at her had been palpable for accidentally breaking their daughter’s arm.
“We’re so sorry about this,” Rashi murmured to Barron. “She’s hard to tame.”
Bree stuttered, her jaw dropping.
“Brisella, what is the meaning of your screeching? Nobles do not act this way, we are refined, we are poised. We can hear your little tantrum across the castle,” Otto reprimanded.
“Stand up straight, we do not slouch,” Rashi added.
“We have a reputation to uphold,” Otto continued. “You do not scream at our king, or his heir.”
This was all familiar. The Hydrafort Estate had been run like a prison. Even when Bree’s arm had been in a cast, she’d been expected to attend her finishing lessons, ensuring she became a proper lady for her re-entry into society.
Kora had laughed through every dance lesson Bree had partaken in with one unbroken arm. The memory soured in Kora’s mind as she stared at the same female, her blue eyes hungry for power. Her smile too stretched, her long nails digging a trench into Blake’s arm, and pure venom directed at Kora.
“King?” Erick mouthed to Kora and she shook her head. That explained the ghastly crown weaving through Barron’s hair. It was simultaneously fascinating and scary to watch the exchange. Since when had Barron established himself as a king? Did that mean Blake was a prince now?
“Apologies, Your Majesty.” Rashi dipped her head to Barron. “We value our union with you deeply. We hope Brisella hasn’t done anything to tarnish it.”
Barron waved a hand and the Hydraforts silenced, their attention raptly glued to his every movement. “Not at all. Please, do sit and join us. We were just about to get Kora to eat, weren’t we?”
The royal nobles slid into the empty seats, with Bree insisting Blake shuffled his chair closer to hers, a smug smile on her face as though it were a victory. Kora rolled her eyes. Only one empty seat remained, between Agatha and Barron.
“She looks awfully thin,” Rashi observed beside Kora. “You best eat something.”
“Yes,” Otto nodded, sat at the opposite head of the table to Barron. “Nourishment is good for the soul.”
Nausea filled Kora’s empty stomach, followed by bile reaching up and closing in on her throat. Five sets of noble eyes keenly watched her, waiting for her to take a bite of food. It smelled delicious, but the pressure forced her stubbornness to take over and she sat back, glaring at Barron.
Gods damn him.
“However, you could do with a diet.” Rashi’s dark eyes flickered to Bree, who shrank in her seat under her mother’s oppressive gaze.
She had filled out over the past month, looking more like a voluptuous goddess rather than whatever Rashi saw her as.
Bree inherited her bright blue eyes from Otto, but everything else was all Rashi.
Kora bit her lip, holding back her remarks as Blake tentatively placed a hand on Bree’s, his smile grim.
Kora’s heart stuttered. The betrayal burrowed its way in like a toxic worm, spreading cold poison until she snapped her gaze away, her sorrow seeping over the boundary into red hot anger.
“It’s a shame to see you here,” Otto remarked, raising his goblet of wine to Erick. “You held such promise under Barron’s mentorship.”
“Always a pleasure, Otto,” Erick smoothly replied as though he didn’t resemble Garvan’s personal punching bag.
Otto’s stare raked over Erick’s beaten and dishevelled state and merely snorted in response. “You had one job, and you couldn’t even do that right. After everything we did to get you on that island. The expenses are still stacked up against my coffers.”
“You were involved in Erick’s infiltration?” Kora piped up, and she scoured the Hydraforts. They were the wealthiest, the most elite, they were distant relatives of the Staghart family. Surely, to protect themselves, they would’ve stayed away from anything that could destroy their royal reputation.
Otto barked a laugh. “Barron needed investors to his cause, and we were more than willing. War makes good money, and we will always be on the winning side.”
Barron saluted his goblet to Otto with a smile. “The Hydraforts are always welcome in my household.”
“Cheers to that, my friend,” Otto replied. “As per our agreement, Erick will fall into my employment starting tomorrow. He is yet to work off his debts from ten years ago.”
“Debts?” Kora echoed, frowning at Erick’s paling complexion.
“Otto, don’t do this,” Erick whispered.
“You knew this day would come,” Otto chimed, his smile lighting up. “Your treason cancels out your protection. Time to pay up.”
“What is he talking about?” Kora floundered. “Erick.”
His warm stare met hers. “There’s a reason I was never promoted past commodore.”
Kora’s world spun. He was a prisoner just like her.
He was owned by the elites—just like her.
All this time, she’d placed Erick upon a pedestal, for his skill, his reverence, his drive to live up to his own beliefs of revenge for Eleanore.
She’d always pushed him to ascend the ranks so she could take his place, but he’d always been reluctant.
When really, he’d been serving the empire as a slave, whilst keeping Kora hidden from her own haunting nightmare.
“Yes, yes,” Barron waved a hand. “Infiltrating Galen resulted in Erick amounting debt to the Hydraforts. I’d let it slip for a while, siphoning his wages as commodore to appease Otto. But now, he must pay his dues. With interest.”
“We’ll take her, too.” Rashi nodded at Agatha. “We need an extra cook in the kitchen.”
No, no, no. Panic seized Kora. They would take them both away and leave her in Barron’s cold clutches.
“With these hands? I think not.” Agatha revealed her arthritis-riddled hands and scoffed at the lady.
“Do not speak back to me, slave,” Rashi snapped, slamming her sparkling hand on the marble table.
“Child, I am far older than you. Do not speak to me like I am less than you. I have witnessed a thousand lives. I have borne a thousand burdens. Your snivelling enslavement is nothing in the far greater plan of the gods. You are simply a dot in the expanding universe of time.” Agatha lifted her chin and then switched to speaking in Devanian. “You will die with no legacy.”
Silence followed, and Kora sharply inhaled the thick air encasing her lungs, the vibration within her core humming louder.
Rashi screeched. “Do not speak that foul language!”
“Honey,” Otto soothed. “Do not fret. We can make use of her another way. I’m sure our king will welcome her removal. He’s a very busy man.”
Barron nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. He leaned over to Agatha and whispered something in her ear and she gaped, whipping her head in his direction.
What had he said to her? Kora leaned forward as much as she could, trying to capture Agatha’s attention with the swing of her foot under the table, but her legs barely reached half-way across.
“Pet, you’ve still not eaten,” Barron mused, glancing down to Kora’s plate. “My threat to kill your companions was always empty. Was only a touch of persuasion.” That sickening smile returned, and horror washed through Kora. “But perhaps someone else can convince you.”
The doors flung open behind Barron, and two reeking guards dragged a limp figure between them to the final empty chair. Hauling his body into it, they pulled his lolling head back, revealing a pair of dark brown eyes, haunted by writhing shadows.
“Theron,” Kora breathed.
“How’s it going . . . Cadell?” Theron wheezed, followed by a cough, as if the simple notion of breathing was difficult. Almighty Thanos.
He looked awful. Tiny curls of dark hair had grown across his head, and his dark face was ashen, coated in a sickly sheen of sweat.
His once captivating eyes held darkness, ringed by black circles that bled into veins wriggling beneath his cheeks.
Theron was thinner, and his usually rippling physique now wan.
Dark patches blemished his skin, with sores oozing an unfamiliar dark liquid.
Ivar’s steps shuffled behind her, his unease coursing through the air. Theron’s gaze clocked him instantly, relief evident for only a second before he focused on Kora instead.
“What have you done to him?” Kora whispered at the pustulous flesh peeking from beneath his thin linen clothing. Loose trousers draped around his waist, clasped by his trembling fingers.