The thoughts and questions keep piling up, stealing my focus. The water shifts, and I sense another creature’s presence too late.
“Your Majesty.”
Anger surges through me. Someone dares to keep me from my mate, daresto be so close to my island. My lips peel back with a snarl. A low growl builds in my chest, though not loud enough to be heard above the storm.
A dead weight sinks in my stomach when I spot the kraken emerging from the shadows of a stone structure.
“Counselor Lazell.” Lightning thunders in my veins. He is a snake amongst kraken.
His eyes dart to my dark hair floating around me. His lips twist in distaste.
My mother killed his brother when he campaigned for my execution a few months after I was born, then later attempted to carry it out himself. Since then, Lazell has been a thorned pest, leading the Council in his vision, keeping hatred toward me alive.
It’s a pity my mother didn’t end his entire family line.
I would have long ago if it wouldn’t have resulted in my certain death.
Our interactions are few and far between. The Council has been operating on its own for several years, running the kingdom without my interference. I wanted nothing to do with it, and my subjects were all too happy to take the proverbial crown from me. Their contempt toward me worsened after Yannig died and I refused to marry the first kraken female they sacrificed to me.
Now, for the most part, they leave me alone, acting like I don’t exist, only bothering me every so often to check if I’m any closer to shackling a female to me.
“I see you are still alive,” Lazell observes in relief and disgust. The lines on his face deepen when they land on the two fresh wounds left by my mate.
He tears his stare away at my growl. I don’t like him looking at Cindi’s gifts to me.
The kraken has aged centuries since I last saw him eight moons ago. His cheeks are sunken, and there’s the barest green tinge to his skin—a telltale sign the Waste has reached his body. I have yet to see a kraken without the coloring in recent years.
Lazell’s long, thin tentacles slither over rock and sand before jettisoning close to the surface to mimic the movement of my limbs. It’s the same habit Yannig had.
He uses the webbing between his arm and ribs to keep stationary against the strong currents. The tapered edges of his four fingers ripple. It’s the greatest offense that his coloring is similar to my brother’s—brown and white stripes like a lionfish.
Grief hits me every time I have the misfortune of seeing Lazell, only to be quickly staunched by seething hatred.
Every word out of his mouth is a concealed threat.
I may be the king, but he is the one who holds the power over our people. If he chooses to follow in his brother’s footsteps by rallying krakens to kill me, it will happen. If he knew I was hiding a human in my den, the Council would be demandingCindi’s execution. Our kind’s continued anonymity is one of the most sacred values we hold.
The only reason I’m not dead is because I am their only hope. Lazell and every other kraken who loathes me are losing sleep over having no choice but to place their faith in an abomination.
“It has been many months since you’ve joined our meetings.”
“It has.” Why would I want to be in the presence of those who would sooner poison me than willingly speak to me? My attendance only serves as an opportunity for the Council to berate and pressure me into marrying a kraken.
He raises a brow. “I assume your search for a bride has not been successful, and the people will continue to starve.” My inner beast rears its head at his condescending tone.
I clamp my mouth shut to stop from bragging about finding my mate, from proving to them that I was right. The Goddess deemed me worthy of having a fated mate.
He would insist on seeing her, and then he’d try to have her killed.
Once our bonding settles the blight over my territory, I will parade my beautiful female for all the vile krakens to see so they knowIsaved us with the help of myhumanbride. My people will seethe, recoil from disgust, but it will bring me no greater joy than to know every time they hunt, it is because a human and their monster king permitted it.
Until then, Krokant is all that remains, an hourglass showing how much time remains before all is lost. It has been two years since I last visited. I can only assume it has halved in size. It’s anyone’s guess as to how much time we have left before the Curse wins.
And they come for me.
“My search for my mate remains,” I lie, balling my hands into fists to stop from tearing him apart.
He forgets my human attributes have turned me into a far better hunter and killer than any of them. Their webbing is a weakness—one cut, and they could bleed out. My claws are a weapon in themselves. Thumbs are an advantage in every form. I have yet to find a purpose for my hair. I assume there is one, but thus far, I have not been able to find a reason.
