Page 62 of Daughter of the Dark Sea
Kora pulled her dark cloak around her, damning the internal green silk lining highlighting her imperial status. At least her cloak clasp wasn’t the empire insignia. It was a winding leaf made of silver, gifted to her from Blake when they’d survived the trials.
At least fifteen, maybe twenty, peoplerelaxedin the room, their faces shrouded by various coloured sheets of silk, or intricately embossed masks covering their eyes. Clustered in small groups, their heads were close as they spoke in whispered,soothing tones. A glass-and-silver bar, with a select amount of grog, dominated the corner closest to the stairs. Another hostess, dressed in pale-yellow clothing, flitted from the bar to the collective strangers, refilling their crystal glasses.Crystal.
Glass. Crystal. Masks. What was this place?
Kora swallowed at the wealth woven throughout the room. If the citizens outside—or even in the tavern below—knew what affluence lay hidden up here, it would be raided within a heartbeat.
“I don’t recognise you,” the lavender hostess murmured. Her voice had a strange accent Kora couldn’t place, and she considered bolting downstairs. Her palm stung and she shook her wrist, rubbing the oddly warm skin.
“Oh, first time?” The hostess cocked her head.
“How did you know?”
She gestured to Kora’s hand. “It becomes less unpleasant each time. First time I used the door, I thought my palm was going to melt off!” The hostess lowered her voice, “You must be a powerful mage to enter without a burn the first time.”
Mage.
Words evaded Kora as her throat closed. She couldn’t bring herself to admit it. That she was . . .powerful. It was an absurd concept, and she scoured the room, her pulse racing. If she were caught, she would be dead in an instant.
“Don’t worry, we are all the same here.” The hostess’ eyes crinkled beneath her veil.
“Everyone here is a mage?” Kora croaked the words.
“Mage, or ally to mages. The door can read you from your touch, and keeps our enemies out. Pretty handy spell. Say, how did you find us?”
Kora wracked her brains. Her ability to think failing at the overwhelming discovery of a room full of mages and allies to the old ways, hidden behind an enchanted door. A name welled upfrom the entanglement of thoughts. The reason she’d come up here.
“Digs sent me,” Kora lowered her voice, altering her tone to be more husky. “I’m afraid I don’t have a covering.”
She motioned to the lavender silk hiding half of the female’s face, leaving her dark, kohl-lined eyes exposed. A shimmer of sparkling gold brushed down the curves of her face, and her skin sparkled with the powder on her shoulders, arms, and stomach.
“Oh!” The hostess raised her brows as she scanned the room. “I always have a spare. Here.” She fished out a black silk mask, connected to a simple gold chain, and Kora quickly turned away to cover her face beneath her cloak.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sister.” She bobbed in a small curtsey. “Sehwani.”
Kora stopped dead in her tracks at the old language. Seconds passed, and the female’s dark stare grew concerned, the corners pinching in suspicion as Kora remained in stunned silence.
“Sehwani,” she replied.
The hostess visibly relaxed, and gestured for Kora to enter the mysterious room. Entangled thoughts sprouted in her mind. Had Finlay been aware of this place? He knew John, and this was John’s tavern. It wasn’t far-fetched to believe Finlay had been involved with this, too. And who spelled the door? Enchantments were part of witches’ talent, not a mage-bestowed gift from a god.
She quietly walked through, catching snippets of Devanian spoken, and her stomach knotted as she sunk into an empty area of purple and black cushions. She keenly listened, understanding odd sentences in the ancient language.
Business trades.
Family feuds.
Their latestexploitsat brothels.
The search for John and Finlay—there.
Kora shuffled closer to the two males a few cushion-circles away. She couldn’t see their faces, as they sat with their broad backs to most of the room. She was also aware that she didn’t have long before Bree would stride into the latrine to reprimand her for abandonment.
“—it’s growing, is what our spies have heard. The Mist will take over the oceans if we don’t hurry soon,” Digs spoke quietly.
“Agreed. Time is running out. We need to find John,” the other male followed.
