“Any troubles, I’ll sort them out.” Samuel winked at her, and Aryn ran a hand over his face as he shuffled further into the corner of the booth.
The barmaid appreciatively nodded and returned to the bar, her hips swishing in the thin dress. Samuel sighed after her, and Kora’s fingers brushed against the stained, wooden table, her metal bits absent.
“I’m going to marry that woman.” Samuel beamed at her from across the room.
Kora suppressed roiling nausea.Calypso spare her.“You want to marry every barmaid.”
“I have a lot of love to give.” He waggled his blonde brows as she gulped her ale, wishing she could melt into the hazy, amber liquid. Aryn muttered a curse, rolling his eyes at his comrade.
Hours passed, and her steeled gaze on the entrance to the tavern was unwavering as she waited for John to return. As Samuel ordered another round from the watchful barmaid, the door to The Abandoned Barnacle swung open, and Kora rushed to her feet, wide-eyed at the figure before her.
“I should’ve known that you’d be in an establishment such as this. How cliché.”
Kora barked a laugh as the female glided towards her, encircling her long arms around Kora in a tight embrace.
“They have the best ale,” Kora murmured into her friend’s shoulder.
Bree Hydrafort towered over her, and her dark cloak swished around them as they pulled apart, smiling. Her smile dropped as she wrinkled her nose, followed by waving her hand through the air.
“You stink!” Bree clasped her nose dramatically.
A subtle stench of sweat, dirt, and salty ocean encased them. Kora’s fingernails were cracked and filthy, her clothes rumpled with splattering’s of dried blood hidden by her cloak.Her face was coated with grime, and her hair coiled around her ears, crusty from weeks of ocean spray. She supposed shewasa little bit dirty.
“A few weeks at sea will do that,” Kora said bashfully. A pointed cough sounded behind her, and she turned to an equally grimy Samuel staring at Bree in awe.
She was tall, and slender, her skin like deep, rich chocolate, and eyes as piercing blue as the sky. Individual gold loops wove throughout Bree’s long, braided hair, matching the jewellery sweeping across her chest and wrists. She adorned an exquisite billowing purple dress, with subtle gold and black embellishments lining the folds of her skirt and sleeves.
“Lads, this is Bree Hydrafort. Bree, meet Samuel, my sailing master. Aryn, head of archers onHell’s Serpent.”
Aryn stifled a choke on his ale. “Hydrafort?”
“Well . . . I’ll be damned.” Samuel stroked his braided beard. “Don’t see many of you anymore.”
Bree pursed her thick, plump lips. “My family have taken permanent residency in the Citadel. We no longer need to be in Aldara.”
Kora gestured for Bree to settle into the booth, away from the eyes pinned on her voluptuous figure, and the riches that garnished it. Aryn warily marked her, and the scrutinous barmaid returned, placing another stein of ale down on the table. Her tawny eyes tried to capture Samuel’s, whose grey gaze was now enamoured with the royal noble before him.
“A Hydrafort out in the wild.” Samuel let out a low whistle, and Kora glared at him.
Bree shrugged and cringed at the stein of ale. “The lengths I go to see my best friend.”
“Best friend?” Aryn squeaked, and he and Samuel gawked at Kora in astoundment.
“Bree’s been my friend for a long time,” Kora nudged her elbow as Bree sipped the ale, and grimaced. She’d always been more favourable of wine over any grog, since they’d first met ten years ago—shortly after Kora arrived in Aldara with Erick. After heraccident.
They’d met at a gawdy noble’s ball. Kora had been pulling and pinching at the gown Erick’s servants had stuffed her into, scowling at strangers twirling around her on the dancefloor. Many eyes had been trained on her that evening, whispers circling the ballroom about thelost girland her fresh,uglyscar.
Until Kora tripped on her skirts and fell during a dance, bringing down the daughter of the prestigious noble house with her onto the marble floor, and shattering Bree’s elbow in front of the entire noble society. Bree had been grateful for the excuse to leave the ball and hide from society for weeks whilst she recovered, and Kora had visited her every week at Erick’s behest to make amends with the Hydraforts.
They’d been best friends ever since. Bonded over their disdain for balls and uppity nobles.
“Don’t make me sound old,” Bree quipped.
“You mean to say you’re friends—bestfriends—with the heiress of the House ofHydrafort?” Samuel leaned forward curiously.
“I wouldn’t say the heiress . . .” Kora hummed, arching a brow at Bree.
“No, no,” Bree waved her hands. “I’d say I’m governess of the house already.”
