40
Raiden
Kora’s beauty was captivating. Her waves of moonlight hair swished around her shoulders as she laughed.
And fuck, wasn’t that a delightful sound.
So delightful, Raiden fidgeted across the booth, his restraint thinning every passing second.
Every smile, every twinkle in her lapis lazuli eyes, every lilt of her voice brightened the longer she rejoiced with Skylar and Cassidy.
Raiden’s mouth thinned at his sister and her closest companion.
He’d taken them to the side recently after Sirona’s revelation.
He’d never been more furious with Skylar, and a surprise art stencil set had appeared outside his door the following day, wrapped in a yellow patchwork ribbon.
He’d noticed the book in Kora’s full satchel—a book Raiden had recommended to Skylar if she wished to start anew with Kora.
It warmed him to see his sister take that first step.
Kora belonged here. She had to stay here.
In that very moment, he knew he couldn’t let her leave.
Couldn’t let her vengeance consume her. The fiery passion driving her to destroy Barron would consume her soon, like it had once before.
And that could never happen again. He would find a way to break her deal with Zephyr.
Night had settled in, the white sconces lighting up the tavern like stars filtering through the ocean’s surface.
Sirona had talked his ear off the past hour, warbling about gods-knew-what.
All Raiden could do was watch Kora. The way the navy corset hugged her muscled frame, swirls of silver glistening in the light.
The shirt had fallen just off her shoulders, exposing planes of freckled and scarred skin. He ached to touch it. To kiss it.
She deserved the world bowing at her feet. She was a goddess, her power mighty, her gifts beyond comprehension of this realm.
“You’re not listening to me,” Sirona sighed, leaning back.
Raiden glanced at her, aware that Aerion had slipped Aryn a few more drinks, loosening his usual tense demeanour. Their hands were now entwined under the table, their foreheads pressed together as Aerion whispered sweet nothings to Aryn.
“Sorry, Sirona. I’m just . . . distracted.”
“I understand that now. You’ve been staring at her all night.” Sirona gently placed her hand on Raiden’s forearm. “War will be upon us at some point, Rai. Don’t let the good times pass you by. I certainly wished I hadn’t.” Her dark eyes dipped to Raiden’s mouth, blinking before turning away.
“I never wanted to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt people.”
“I’m fine.” Her strained smile said otherwise. “Recent events have made me . . . reevaluate a few things. I need to focus on my studies. I want to become Altha someday. If we win this war, I can travel far and wide, spreading my gift to all. I can heal as many as I can, and share my wisdom.”
Raiden smiled, but a punch slammed into his gut. He’d never considered a life after the war. It’d always been train, fight, survive. And never . . . win. Even during the Mist, it’d been one, dark, cold day after another.
With a sharp inhale, light bloomed to his mind.
After the war he wanted . . . love. He wanted family.
He wanted freedom. He wanted to expand his tavern, maybe even curate art on the island.
Embrace Galen’s cultures and lost artistry.
After all, before the Devanian Conquest, Galenites had been the philosophers of the world.
The scholars. The dancers and the painters.
Sirona’s smiled widened, noticing the shift in his expression, her fingers pressing into his forearm. “Sehwani, Raiden Windward.”
He jolted, Sirona’s rare sincerity bleeding through, the coldness in her dark eyes clearing and for once, a wise, fierce healer stared back at him. “Sehwani, Sirona Silvermaid.”
“Skylar, stop scratching it!” Aerion half-heartedly lifted his arm to swat Skylar as she continuously rubbed the scar across her forehead. His heavy-lidded stare blinked as Aryn wrapped his arms around Aerion’s torso, pulling him back down into their shadowy love pit.
“It fucking hurts!” she hissed. “It’s all this grog.”
“Oh, I have a salve that works wonders,” Kora replied, a finger running down her neck.
Everyone had shuffled away from the males, Raiden too, teetering on the edge.
Sirona had fled the tavern, hustling to return to the castle and check on Erick.
Kora had even taken her hand briefly, thanking Sirona.
When Sirona had decided to hug Kora in return, Raiden had nearly landed on his arse, the Huntress looking so shocked she’d tensed up, her hands awkwardly flapping behind Sirona’s back.
Raiden’s heart was so hopeful, so warm, that fear quickly circled, waiting to attack. An ever-present knife in his back, threatening to stab him if he ventured too close to his dreams.
“That . . . is so . . . badass,” Cassidy slurred, her stein sloshing.
The group had run a tab as long as his arms, and he’d make sure Aerion would foot the bill in the morning.
Not that Raiden needed the money. He paid his staff handsomely, he kept some for himself for the day his father well and truly decided to cut him out, and the rest he invested locally in artists and museums.
“If we’re swapping skincare routines, there’s a spa in town we should go to,” Aerion hummed.
“I’d rather die,” Skylar muttered.
“I don’t recommend,” Kora whispered, but Raiden had leant far enough forward to hear it. He’d been slowly inching closer to her, like a moth drawn to a flame. A singularity in his universe, his future, past, and present would always flow through Kora.
“Come, sit with me,” he offered, patting the small space beside him as Cassidy and Skylar spoke with the loved-up males. It calmed Raiden, seeing his brother at ease with Aryn, their dynamic finally settled. The archer even placed a kiss along Aerion’s stubbled jaw, and Raiden hid his own smile.
Not even a second passed as Kora rounded the table, nestling next to him with such confidence his air evaporated, wholly consumed by her presence alone. Her lashes were long, beckoning him to fall hard, her nibbled lip demanding he run his thumb across it.
“Are you and Sirona a thing?” she asked, followed by a hiccup.
Raiden smiled fondly. “No. We once . . . there was a time where we thought the Mist would never end. That the cold darkness was our eternity. It was a night of desperation, to feel something. To be touched by warmth. We’d been good friends, and I hope we will be again.”
Kora’s eyes flashed, then lowered. His heart thudded unpleasantly as she remained in silence. “I understand that.” Her fingers splayed on the teal booth beside his, her fingertip gracing him the tiniest ember of her warmth. “Do you own this bar?”
“Yes.”
“It reminds me of the ocean,” Kora mumbled, glancing around with delight. Her voice was all over the place, her cheeks flushed with grog, her eyes wide and glassy.
“It reminds me of you.”
She exhaled, her scent wrapping around him fiercely, the bond snapping wide open. An array of emotions hit him, a mix of hope, of joy, but also worry. A tangled mess that swirled together from the grog, confusing him.
“Please,” Kora breathed. “Tell me of something from my past. Anything. I want the connection.”
Her desperation pushed through the mess of emotions, clogging Raiden’s throat until he cleared it. “Barron’s magic could use it against you.”
“Please. I need something.”
Gods damn, he loved her begging.
“Your father is Davy Jones—” he started.
“I know that,” Kora interrupted, her bottom lip pouting as she finished her drink. “And don’t you mean was? Everyone says he’s dead.” He didn’t miss the flash of sorrow in the bond, entwined with curiosity.
“Hush, Huntress. As I was saying, your father was Davy Jones. He was the keeper of the Locker, a legend amongst pirates. A formidable sailor, a terrifying opponent. All feared when he neared, especially when marked with the black spot. It was told, once marked, Davy would hunt you down and drag you to the depths.”
“A hunter? Like me?” Kora’s full hand brushed his on the booth as she shuffled closer.
Raiden nodded. “Davy was a lone hunter. No one knew how these black spots came about, whether he truly possessed any power from the gods. The only telltale sign were the tattoos on his body, covered from neck to foot. Strange, sharp markings, all except on his heart.”
Kora was so close now, he could count every individual precious freckle.
“His heart had supposedly been given to the ocean, meaning no ink may ever mark his flesh there. Until one day he stepped foot on Galen, gracing the king with his presence. A woman stood by his side, his mirror image, eyes of pure ice. He tore his shirt open, baring his truth to the court, and marked on his heart was not the space for the ocean, but the name of his daughter. The true heart of his ocean.” Raiden swallowed, his fingers brushing over the back of her hand, his other hand trailing up one of her arms gently.
Kora’s skin visibly prickled under his touch, a palpable shiver running through her. She blinked rapidly, her teeth gnawing the inside of her cheek as the story settled in.
“When was this?”
“Five years before the Mist. You both appeared offering your aid in the middle of the Galenite War. My father didn’t believe it was Davy until he stripped down, his tattoos the legend that carried truth.
” Her warmth intoxicated him, the desire to pull her into his arms and fly away was driving him fucking crazy.
Especially with Aerion’s giggles cutting through the conversation.
“How do you know Aryn?” The archer glanced their way, his heavy eyes flaring slightly. Raiden waved him down, letting Aerion drag Aryn back into his arms.
“Aryn also has a long lifespan like us. How? I don’t know. He refuses to talk about it, and Aerion has mentioned to me before his past is something not to be probed.”
Kora’s eyes widened as she peered at her friend, concern lining her face. Aryn was a mysterious male, and his solid determination to keep his life from before Galen separate had always resulted in trust issues from Raiden.
“I met him briefly prior to the Galenite War, during the lull between Admiral Darkon’s and Barron’s exchange.
He was a neat shot at the time, and I deemed him useful for our armies.
He clicked immediately, as you can tell, with everyone.
Even my father preferred him.” Kora’s hand clenched around his at the mention of Zephyr.
“So much,” she murmured. “So much I don’t remember.”
Kora sat back, her warmth disappearing as quickly as it came, Raiden’s hand falling away from her skin as she exhaled slowly.
“Don’t look to the past,” Raiden thought out, capturing her attention. “You can choose your family, and they’re here, waiting for you.”