Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
If he offers a boon, there’s always fine print.
–An Incomplete Guide to Kraken Survival
Freyja knocked on my door at veil sharp, exactly as promised. Or at least, I assumed it was veil sharp. The waters had turned dark and murky, heavy currents rippling over the dome. Oh, look. A whale passed overhead.
I am calm. I am light. Head high, I glided to the door and twisted the knob to find her standing at attention, still clutching the clipboard.
Despite the time and the fact that she’d probably worked more than a full day, she greeted me with a formal nod, not a pink strand of hair out of place or wrinkle in her suit.
She gave me a once-over. A slight pursing of her lips said she had an opinion about my choice of wardrobe: the same dress I’d worn before.
“This is how you’d like to go?” she asked, an impeccably arched brow raised. “You’re sure?”
I licked my lips. “I’m sure.” Though not nearly as sure as I’d been two minutes ago.
“Very well. This way, please.” She turned on her heel and led me to the king’s suite. A long haul across the palace, up and down multiple flights of stairs.
Finally, she stopped and waved to a massive solid gold entrance decorated with the same runes on the king’s skin.
I swallowed the lump trying to grow in my throat.
She checked her clipboard. “This dinner will last two hours, and you’re in for a treat. The king’s chosen menu features our finest cuisine. He has requested the honor of returning you to your room, so I won’t see you again until tomorrow at morning shimmer.”
In case I stayed the night? Not gonna happen. Nein.
Ensuring I couldn’t run away, she gave the daunting door two hard raps before striding off, leaving me alone.
In the span of a heartbeat, the door swung open, and King Sebastian filled the doorway. Was there any man more imposing? His height forced me to look up. And up.
Tremors took root in my knees. Even now, part of me wished to run, but I planted my feet. Tonight, I glimpsed his character. For better or worse.
He’d showered, his black, iridescent-streaked hair still damp. But he hadn’t shaved, a dark shadow gracing his firm jaw. A white tunic stretched across his muscular chest and strained well-defined biceps. The open collar revealed a small dagger with a bejeweled hilt hanging from a chain.
“Come,” he said.
Warm shivers danced down my spine. If ever seduction had a voice, it was this man.
A familiar mantra filled my head. Find the rhythm. Keep the count.
Here we go. I glided inside and halted, heart racing. His scent permeated every molecule. Cool night air after rain, with hints of smoky amber and aged driftwood; clean, shadowed and electric. Calm on the surface, dangerously addictive underneath.
Then there was the suite itself. The entry opened into an elegant sitting area, all ice-blue tones and deep shadow, lit by softly glowing orbs that floated overhead with the grace of jellyfish.
Low, sculpted furniture formed an intimate circle atop a woven rug patterned in swirling currents.
Beyond it lay the dining space, subtly separated by a curved arch of polished stone.
Where was the bed? Part of me suspected he slept on a waterbed. A bed I would turn into a steaming kraken stew pot if ever I got angry in a dream. Not that I had any plans to sleep here.
My cheeks burned. Focus. A small dining table waited at the center, set for two.
Platters crowded the surface. Scrumptious cuts of seared fish glazed in dark herbs, jewel-bright fruits split and glistening, bread still warm enough to release curls of steam, bowls of something decadent and fragrant.
I breathed deep. Mmm. Spices I didn’t recognize but instinctively longed to taste.
Two glasses of rich red wine, filled deep, waited.
Nothing felt rushed. Or accidental.
With a light, yet devastating, touch to my hip, King Sebastian escorted me to one of two chairs positioned across from each other at the table. His gloved fingers lingered for the briefest pause before he stepped away. I eased down.
“The dress I selected wasn’t acceptable?” he asked as he took his own seat. He spoke in Icelandic.
“It was—is—lovely, but it’s not mine.”
He frowned. “Your clothing was not available to you. I provided something you needed. Is thanking me not the diplomatic thing to do?”
As the daughter of a king and sister of a queen, I’d navigated my fair share of imperious behaviors. The lesson here was not what he hoped. If I didn’t wish to be walked on, I must show a measure of strength. Diplomatically, of course.
I gave him a sweet smile. “Is it appropriate for a man to give a revealing gown to a woman he’s only just met, majesty?”
“If he is king, everything he does is appropriate.”
Did I detect the barest tinge of amusement? So not the reaction I’d anticipated. “As a guest in your land, I will refrain from disagreeing…out loud.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “You are bolder than I expected.”
What a kind thing to say. The magic formula for any court. “Thank you,” I said, and I meant it.
His brow arched. “No thanks for a dress, but for an observation.”
“When the observation is a treasure, yes.” I might as well be blunt, since I was so bold and all.
“Why did you gift me the dress? Why have you assigned me a personal assistant? Why am I here, in your suite, enjoying a veritable feast with a king who should forget my existence until he wishes to send a message to my queen?”
His gaze dropped to my lips, and my heart skipped a beat.
The moment shattered when he placed a napkin on his lap. “I’d like it if you called me Sebastian.”
“Oh.” It was a courtesy afforded to few, I’d bet, but I wasn’t ready for such familiarity from the man who wreaked havoc on my nervous system. “I’d prefer to use our titles.”
“That is unfortunate, as I’ll be calling you Bronwyn. At least until I decide on your nickname.” He filled both our plates with selections from each dish. He added a second spoonful from the blue bowl. “You will like this one best.”
I blinked. “How do you know?” Wait. “You plan on giving me a nickname?”
“You’re most certainly not a Bronnie. Or a Winnie. Brownie Bites, perhaps?” He said it with such ease, as if we were debating the proper term for today’s weather. I didn’t know whether he was teasing me or disarming me or both.
What even was my life right now? “You may not call me Brownie Bites. If you will not use my title, my name will do.”
He canted his head at me, his attention steady. “Do you not already have a nickname for me? I believe dragons often refer to me as the Beast of the Seas.”
He was all innocence as he took his first bite, watching me, awaiting my response.
Meanwhile, I nearly squirmed in my seat. “A nickname for me would be… fine.”
He almost smiled; I was sure of it.
I forced myself to concentrate on the food rather than him. My mouth watered. Everything looked so buttery and rich, and I hadn’t eaten properly in days, too anxious about our meeting.
I took a tentative bite of the dish he’d thought I would like best, and oh, the exquisite flavors bathed my tongue in perfect harmony. My eyes sank shut as I savored.
When I refocused, eager for my next shovelful, I discovered Sebastian watching me once again. Intently. As if my reaction mattered more than his appetite.
“Good?” he asked, just a little smug.
A flush spread across my skin. I nodded. “Very good.” I reached for a roll from an assortment of breads in a basket. My fingers brushed his. He’d reached, too.
I jerked away. He didn’t. Instead, he held my gaze, refusing to let it go. Refusing to let me go. We peered at each other, seconds stretching, and my breathing quickened. What was happening right now?
“For you.” He offered his roll to me.
Rather than refuse, I snatched it, very much not like a princess. We ate in silence for several minutes, and I used every second to regain my composure.
“Perhaps His Majesty would be so kind as to finally, at long last, explain my assignment,” I said. “Please.”
He leaned back in his chair, the almost smile once more in place. “Já. Let’s get business out of the way, so you can relax, and I can glimpse the promised charm.”
A backhanded compliment, if ever I’d heard one. Rather than take offense, I quipped back, “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”
He chuckled, a warm, deep sound I felt in my bones. “You’re much wittier than reports suggest.”
Ash and embers, he gave good laugh.
Between one heartbeat and the next, however, he grew serious, not a hint of amusement remaining. “What we discuss from this point forward will not be shared with anyone. No one here. Not even with your sisters. Swear it.”
I blinked rapidly. Ambassadors weren’t supposed to make secret promises they couldn’t honor. Besides that, I couldn’t keep this one. “I can’t swear, majesty. Sebastian. My sister is my queen. If you tell me something that jeopardizes dragons, it’s my duty to inform her.”
He studied me. “I appreciate your honesty, and I give you my word. The dragons in Ashmorra will be in no danger by what you learn today.”
Okay then. “Ja. Based on your assurance, I swear to tell no one.” If he’d lied, all bets were off.
His study of me only intensified, as if he were trying to work out a puzzle.
Finally, he reached out, captured his wine glass and sipped, as if bracing for what was to come. “Jokull, the kraken primordial, has returned. He likes to send corpses instead of flowers.”
My back stiffened, and my hand flew to my neck. Was that what had been inside the crate? Corpses? “That’s not good.” The dragon primordial—my father—had returned as well, and he’d wreaked nothing but havoc.
“There have been… problems.”
“I can imagine.” There was one primordial per faction, and each had begun as a human, then transformed into the first berserker of their kind, powerful in a way the berserkers who’d come after them were not.