Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
Learn the vocabulary of silence. Or die.
–An Incomplete Guide to Kraken Survival
Iremained laser focused as Freyja led me through the palace.
Past a series of tall alcoves. Past sculpted coral reliefs depicting kraken of renown who’d done great feats.
Their many shadowy arms entwined with ships and shifters.
What truly captured my attention, however, were the runes.
Lots and lots of runes, etched into the walls.
Though I listened with every fiber of my being, none spoke to me.
“Here we are,” Freyja announced, rapped on the door and fled. Ms. Cool, Calm Clipboard practically raced down the corridor.
Maybe I should take a cue from her and go. But the door slid open, hinges squeaking, and there was no getting out of this.
A narrow, angular man motioned me inside a study, and he did not look happy about it. Mr. Thorson?
The chamber smelled of polished shipwrecked timber and salty sea air.
Heavy curtains covered the dome windows.
Every ray of light came from candles, which scented the air with wax and smoke.
The room itself was curved, bowing inward, and covering every surface was the inlaid script running through the rest of the palace. More runes.
And there, before a roaring, coral fireplace, stood Sebastian. The other student.
Aaah. Now everything made sense. I wasn’t in competition with some other rune whisperer; I was getting my lesson in all things rune after all, as promised.
Unfortunately, my body betrayed me at the first sight of him. My pulse fluttered, and slight tremors set up camp in my limbs. But who could blame me? Beautiful from a distance, devastating up close. His simple leathers and tunic did nothing to diminish his quiet authority.
How was a dragon princess supposed to protect herself from this kind of visual assault?
“Sit,” Mr. Thorson commanded. “I have been given the monumental task of preparing you for all upcoming functions.”
Wait. We were getting a real etiquette lesson, not studying runes as he’d promised?
Sebastian must have read my thoughts. “What I promised comes after,” he said.
Okay. All right. Now, to respond to Mr. Thorson. Up went my chin. “Is adding please not part of kraken etiquette, sir?”
He gave no reaction and no apology. Sebastian, on the other hand, almost smiled, and oh, I wanted to see one. A real toothy one that stretched from ear to ear.
Perhaps Mr. Thorson could give him smiling instructions? Actually, Soley would be the one for that job.
Mr. Thorson motioned toward two low stools facing each other in the center of the room.
Sebastian crossed to me and caught my hand in his. An action that no longer startled but warmed. He escorted me to the stool and helped me sit before lowering himself directly across from me.
“Both of you. Close.” Mr. Thorson clapped his hands. “Knees must touch. This is expected.”
I arched a brow at Sebastian. Never mind that this seemed beyond excessive for a five day courtship. “He commands you, the king?”
“Just do what he says,” he told me, tone as dry as a desert. “It’s easier.”
I swallowed a laugh as we both scooted closer. Our knees brushed, as ordered, and I jolted. Romance novels had plenty to say about the intimacy of a lingering glance, the stroke of skin against skin, a stolen kiss. They omitted the disarming effects of a knee graze.
Mr. Thorson walked a circle around us. “You’ll forgive the informality of my instruction. The convergence ball is our most important event of the season and it kicks off tomorrow. The formal courtship, rushed as it is,” he said with a pointed glance at Sebastian, “will be scrutinized by all.”
The king did not appear the least bit abashed.
Wait. “A ball?” Tomorrow? Where?
“Quiet,” Mr. Thorson interjected and Sebastian’s mouth curved. Just barely. Just enough to steal my breath. “Students should listen. Teachers should speak.”
So. Definitely no smiling instructions necessary. What little the king gave was already too much for my peace of mind.
“There are many gestures.” Mr. Thorson walked around them. “I’ll give you the three that matter most and pray we are not all humiliated. The first gesture is the wrist clasp. Princess, begin.”
A wrist clasp? Was he for real? As if I didn’t know how to clasp a man’s wrist. I reached for Sebastian’s and—
“Nei! Nei!” Mr. Thorson bellowed, and I froze before contact.
My eyes went wide. Sebastian rolled his lips between his teeth.
“We do not manhandle the king. We gently rest our fingers on the inside of his forearm and slide.” Mr. Thorson guided my hand to where he wanted it. “Here, where the pulse runs closest to the surface. This gesture signals trust to all who witness it.”
The kraken king’s skin felt warmer than I’d expected, not coated with the chill of the deep sea. And those runes. So lovely. I traced my fingertips at the edge of his glove.
His next inhalation came a little too hard and a lot too quick, and the knowledge that I affected him sent a tremor through me.
“Firmer.” Mr. Thorson snapped his fingers. “You aren’t doing him a favor, princess. You are claiming him in public.”
Heat crawled up my neck, but I adjusted my grip while Sebastian stared me down, his smolder cranked to high.
“Better. Now then. When you add a tap, it means you sense danger. But I caution you not to use it indiscriminately. We don’t want another lord removing a man’s head simply because a shadow spooked his lover.
” Thorson focused on Sebastian. “For the second, you take her hand and turn it up. Press two fingers to the center of her palm.”
The king followed instructions exactly, his touch light. Still he made my blood sing.
Mr. Thorson watched me and shook his head. “This gesture is answered by stillness, princess, not flinching.”
“Ambassador,” I corrected. Had I flinched? I made myself go statue still.
“In here, you are a princess and royal consort,” Mr. Thorson said after giving me his you dare instruct the instructor?
look. “To anyone watching, this press of the king’s fingers to your palm means he has chosen you above the tide.
At the same time, this provides a wordless communication system.
An alert if something goes wrong, and you cannot voice it. ”
Sebastian stroked his fingers against my palm, very much not conveying an alert.
I made myself hold his gaze, amazed at the thought of needing such a signal for real. Of facing something ancient and deadly and having no way to warn him except through the language of a pretend courtship.
“Your majesty,” Mr. Thorson huffed as if pushed past his limit. “I have been with you all your life. You know my rules. No acting out of turn.”
“I am communicating something to the princess.” The king did not stop his movement. His voice went low and husky. “Can you decipher it, Brona?”
I couldn’t even think! Shivers rained over my spine, every inch of me waking to the languid drag of his fingers. “Interpret for me,” I beseeched.
He merely smiled. A slow lifting of the corners of his mouth, and I lost my breath all over again.
Mr. Thorson clapped, breaking the spell. “All right. Enough of that. Let’s finish so I can excuse myself from your... conversation. Up, up. This will be like a dance.”
Finally. Something I excelled at.
Sebastian rose and helped me to my feet.
“This move doesn’t require touch but proximity.” Mr. Thorson scooted the stools out of the way. “A half-step nearer than etiquette usually permits, held past the count of three.” He moved to my side. “Show me you understand.”
I eased closer to Sebastian, suddenly wrapped in the whirling vortex of him–or so it seemed. “One,” I said, aflutter.
He eased closer still. “Two.”
Neither of us spoke for long, agonizing seconds. I held my stance, and he held his. For an impossible moment, our lesson disappeared. We were in a bubble. Together.
“Three,” Mr. Thorson said and sighed, popping the bubble. “Now for the touch. Sebastian, your hand goes to her forearm. Merely the starting place.”
I braced, teeth clenched tight to prevent any kind of sound from escaping. Good thing. The moment Sebastian’s fingers lightly traced the sensitive skin on my arm, we both inhaled sharply.
“Now,” Mr. Thorson said, “glide down to her wrist.”
Soft leather whispered along my skin to my wrist, and I tamped down a shiver.
“Now the small of her back…”
His hand slid down my spine, heat chasing his path. My thoughts dissolved at the edges.
“Good, good. Now, one press, held, means you are to stay where you are. Two light taps means you should leave.”
Sebastian pressed once in the tender pressure point on my hip and held it. He held my gaze, too.
Held…
Look away. Ja. I should look away.
“Again,” Mr. Thorson demanded. “You have only days left to make your movements look like nothing to any observer, but everything to each other.”
So we went again, and this time, I didn’t have to think. Wrist. Palm.
Half-step. Wait.
Sebastian moved with me as though we’d practiced together for years instead of minutes.
“Better,” Mr. Thorson said. “Keep at this for another hour. Perhaps three.”
A whimper slipped free. I might not survive another minute of this delicious torment, much less hours and hours. Already aches were blooming.
Thankfully, our instructor made his exit, leaving us alone.
Sebastian didn’t continue but eased back little by little, allowing my breathing to slow. To smooth.
He cobbled together his usual expression: untouched, unreadable, unwelcoming. “Ready to study runes?”
“Ja, please,” I rasped, doing my best to steady. Wait. I remembered the earlier threat and his note. “What happened with Jokull?”
He pursed his lips. “He pretended to want a truce. I turned him down.”
My eyes went wide. “He fears the rune.”
“He should.” Sebastian breathed in, as if resetting, then reached for the collar of his shirt.
Candlelight glimmered over the symbols climbing his throat.
With a tug, he lifted the material over his head.
The garment hit the floor, and I gulped.
He’d gone from covered to bare chested in two frantic heartbeats.
A plethora of runes waited, ready for my viewing pleasure. Er, for my study. But I could hardly focus on those. So. Many. Muscles.
The moisture in my mouth both dried and flooded, a sensation I didn’t even try to explain.
He traced a swirling image in the center of his abdomen. He still wore the gloves.
He’d bared his chest without a flicker of hesitation, every rune and scar on display. But the gloves stayed. A man who’d show me that much and not his hands was hiding something.
“Runes are living power,” he said. “The purpose and power of each is different, but this is true for all: the same rune at the same time can be awake to one person and asleep to others. To awaken one for yourself, you must pay its toll. That cost varies from rune to rune. Can be anything from permission, to blood, to a vow. To a life.”
I nodded, my gaze locked on the path of his finger. Payment. Noted. “What is the price to hear that one?” I pointed to the one he still traced.
“My permission.” He paused. “Can you hear it now?”
I listened. Listened so hard. And heard nothing. “Nein,” I admitted, shoulders rolling in.
“Take a guess.”
Very well. “Lick here?” I slapped a hand over my mouth. “I mean… I shouldn’t have said… that was highly inappropriate, majesty, and I’ll never—” Maybe the floor would open up and swallow me.
His chuckle nearly stopped my heart. “It speaks of my binding to the dome around us. And you did not hear it because I did not grant permission. Now, look at this one.” He moved his finger to an image higher on his torso. “It requires the same payment.”
By sheer will alone, I did not drool as I peered at the jagged lines over his pectoral.
“Watch and listen as I grant you permission,” he said.
Heartbeat, heartbeat.
First came pinpricks of light throughout the image, like little blue water droplets peeking through his skin. They spread, becoming cracks. Suddenly, I didn’t need to try to hear. I just did.
I’ll take you anywhere you wish to go, my king.
“I hear it. It’s speaking to you,” I squealed. “It’s like a traveling stone in your skin.”
“Very good.” He lowered his arm. “Do you remember what I told you about the convergence rune?”
“Ja. The rune will call to me as your consort; I will give it permission to transfer to you.” My brows knitted. “Is that my payment? My permission?”
His features hardened; it wasn’t gradual but instant, every hint of softness gone. Even the colors in his eyes went flat and distant. “It is.”
His answer should have reassured me, but dread prickled my nape. “And you? Must you pay a price?”
“I will give it permission to make the transfer as well.”
“That’s all?” It sounded too easy.
His eyes stayed flat. “That is all we need do.”
Hmm. He hadn’t said that was all it would cost, only that it was all we need do. I noticed the difference this time.
Clearly, he was holding back a bit of information.
“And now,” he said, pulling on his shirt, “your lesson is complete. Come. I’ll return you to your room.”
When he offered me his hand, I tucked the dread into a corner and accepted. For now. We walked side by side through the palace, linked. Servants stopped what they were doing to gape. Guards tracked us with their gazes.
At my door, Sebastian held on half a second longer than necessary, with no count behind it, no hidden message. Just his thumb brushing once over my knuckles, reawakening my aches. Then he strode off, a king who belonged to guards, councils and palace mysteries. Not a dragon princess.
My mind raced as I entered the chamber. Runes were as easy as Sebastian had promised. The true complication was the man himself, and whatever information he wasn’t sharing with me.
Maybe, if I knew him better, I could puzzle this out.
What did Adelaide say right before my departure? Create space for information to come to you.
“Welcome back, my lady.” Soley greeted me with her usual excitement and an idea sprouted.
I smiled at her. “Soley, darling, I find I’m in need of tea.” If Sebastian couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me about himself, someone else would. “Lots and lots of tea.”
“Oh, já. I’ll head to the kitchen and—”
“Nein, nein. Verbal tea, steeped piping hot. I’d like to meet with the woman in the know. The one who always knows everything about everyone. Every kingdom has one.” Adelaide was the dragon tea maker, in fact.
“Ah. I understand.” Soley nodded, though not with nearly as much enthusiasm. “Já, we have one. But we’ll have to recruit Freyja to negotiate the meeting.”
“That’s fine.” As long as she didn’t refuse. “Please arrange it as soon as possible.”