Page 3 of The Kraken Bride

The kraken are never unarmed, especially when they appear unarmed.

–An Incomplete Guide to Kraken Survival

Ten council members entered the kraken king’s throne room.

Ten council members emerged pale and silent.

By the time the doors slammed shut behind the last, leaving only a line of new ambassadors, I shook badly enough to rattle the bone-and-crystal crown perched atop my head. I didn’t want to be here. I’d let impulsive determination, an unfamiliar recklessness, and an ache to be more like the plucky romance heroines I so admired lead me here. To leave behind my prized coin collection, bringing only the music box I took everywhere, and sign on as an ambassador myself.

Now I saw the truth. Determination and recklessness were terrible guides. Nothing but pretty descriptions for what I’d done: doomed myself, all for a chance to change one king’s vote. And maybe, hopefully, answer a single question. Was he or wasn’t he my firebrand?

Again and again, I’d told myself he couldn’t be. That I must have reacted to his raw intensity and only his raw intensity. The magic of the stones. Something. Anything but him. I still told myself all of that, every time I changed my mind. But what if he… was?

I closed my eyes and imagined standing on a stage rather than the edge of a war court in Krakenströnd, surrounded by a glass dome and dark, pressurized water, about to face a ruler rumored to feed on fear and leave broken immortals in his wake.

Ja. Only a stage. Pretending I existed inside a fragile bubble, separate from the rest of the world, I smoothed my damp palms over the finest gown I owned. A relic from my first performance for the Dragon Court. Silk and organza whispered beneath my touch, layers changing as I moved. Coal. Bloodred. Rosegold. The colors of my homeland. The colors of flame.

With every breath, the fabric pulsed like a living ember. An obsidian bodice of dragon scales caged my torso, veined with ruby dust that caught the light. Sharp, elegantly curved shoulder guards gave the illusion of wings. My back lay bare, save for thin, crisscrossing chains that kissed my skin.

A costume meant to turn a ballet dancer into my favorite character to ever dance, the Ember Sovereign.

Costumes, my version of armor, had always given me courage. On stage, I could be anything. Even brave. Yet, I couldn’t stop the sinking suspicion that this time, I’d let myself mistake longing for bravery.

Perhaps I should’ve foregone the costume’s crown. And maybe the steel-tipped combat boots, too. Total overkill for an ambassador. But I’d needed my armor more than ever. In minutes, I would come face to face with Sebastian Mórisi for the first time since the referendum.

Nerves buzzing, I rocked back on my heels and peeked at the world beyond my bubble. The line ahead of me stretched toward massive double doors carved with a kraken’s tentacles twisting in shadow. Every other ambassador was a male built for war. Once again, I was the lone female. The fire-breathing ballerina known across realms as the Pirouette Princess, wrapped in silk and scales, fighting the urge to faint before the curtain could even rise, despite all the retraining Olyssa insisted I undergo after I’d asked to become her envoy to this land.

“I’m tired of waiting,” the adder hissed, his forked tongue flicking in agitation.

Tension as thick as smoke rippled through the line. He was eager; I wasn’t ready. But I had a mission. Change Sebastian Mórisi’s nei to a já, allowing berserkers from different factions to wed. Everything else was… a complication.

My invisible bubble popped. Breathe.

It must be fascination. An odd one at that. He wasn’t even my type. I preferred soft, soulful men who spent time in libraries rather than battlefields. Always had, always would.

The massive doors creaked open at last. Air scraped past my teeth when a stern-faced servant stepped into the corridor, his eyes sharp and his posture rigid. “The king will see you now, one at a time.”

Muttering curses, the adder stalked forward. Guards shut the doors behind him with a resounding boom.

My pulse skidded. This was really happening.

Though math wasn’t my favorite, I worked a quick calculation based solely on the amount of time Olyssa spent with her meet-and-greets. Half an hour. With eight ambassadors ahead of me, including the adder, I would be seeing the king in…

Argh! I didn’t know. My brain refused to make sense of the numbers. But whatever the length, surely I’d be calm by the end.

Only three minutes later, the doors opened. Two guards dragged the groaning adder back into the hall, his eyes unfocused, his head lolling. His boots scraped against the stone, useless as the men dragged him away.

“So it’s true,” the wolf ambassador stated. He sighed. “Looking into the kraken king’s eyes causes seasickness.”

“Next,” the servant announced, gaze sweeping over the remaining ambassadors.

I pressed my hands to my fluttering belly, hopeful. Maybe I’d only reacted to King Sebastian’s eyes at the vote. Maybe every immortal in these halls felt that same lurch and mistook it for something more. Ja, ja. That must be it. Just the eyes. No bond, no complication, only a diplomat and the king I’d come to sway.

Rather than rebuilding my bubble, I forced myself to observe what would be my new workplace for the next three years. The palace walls rippled with ice-blue coral, faintly alive despite the absence of water. Sea-glass lanterns dangled from a domed glass ceiling, shedding blue-green light that shimmered across polished floors like waves.

If I were the decorator, I would have softened the lighting near the entrances. Reduced the intimidation factor. Intimidation was rarely productive long-term⁠—

The doors opened, and another ambassador exited, pale and waxen, looking ready to vomit.