Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Wait. My eyes narrowed. He hadn’t meant those words as a compliment, had he?
“I might insult you if I mention what I’ve been told of you,” I replied before I could think better of it. At least I’d reverted to Icelandic.
Cinders. I’d taken a crash course in tactful, eloquent diplomacy before leaving home. What I’d just said was a big-time no-no. I’d blame it on my nerves. But an itty-bitty part of me might be secretly hoping I pushed him into proving he wasn’t mine.
I braced for his response. Gracefully, of course.
To my surprise, he chuckled with genuine humor. “I’m happy to tell you the rumors about me are true.”
That laugh. Oh, that laugh. Deep and resonant, reaching parts of me he shouldn’t. Anticipation swelled behind my ribs, reminding me of those brief moments right before the music began, and I started to dance.
Oh nein. That was the worst possible reaction.
I needed out of here, and I needed out now. After dipping into a more subdued curtsy, as if our conversation had reached its natural conclusion, I prepared to turn. “Thank you for welcoming me to Krakenströnd, majesty.”
“Do not, princess.” That, he delivered in German.
The command cracked like a conductor striking his baton against a podium, and I froze.
He settled more comfortably on his scorched coral throne, his features relaxing into an expression of sly determination. “You’ve come at the perfect time. I have a special assignment for you.”
His words threw me for a loop. “I’m not a princess while I’m here, majesty. I’m an ambassador,” I corrected, then inwardly kicked myself. I’d just interrupted a king and stopped him from telling me about that special assignment. I must know!
“Your very being screams royalty, princess. There’s no denying what you are, even with a change of title.”
Before I could respond, a soldier entered from a hidden side door I hadn’t clocked. So much for noting every exit. Sebastian pressed his lips together.
In the ensuing silence, I floundered. What assignment, what assignment, what assignment?
The soldier marched across the dais, bent down, and whispered in the king’s ear. Whatever he said infuriated Sebastian. Oh, not by word or action did he betray it; he remained silent and slightly reclined. Unfortunately for him, the tempest in his eyes spoke for him. What had happened?
That starlit gaze returned to me, catching me in the act of staring. Well, embers. I shouldn’t have studied him so closely.
He didn’t release me from his magnetic hold as he shooed the soldier away.
My heart tripped over itself. I rise. I float. I land. The refrain ebbed and flowed on repeat, a balm to my nerves. I rise. I float. I land.
“All is well, I hope,” I said, opting for Icelandic when the silent staring contest persisted. What a little diplomat I was.
“Seems our meeting must be postponed,” he replied in kind. He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, voice suddenly quiet but carrying, every syllable wrapping around me like tentacles. “Get settled in your quarters, Princess Ambassador. You will join me for dinner tonight. We’ll discuss your duties then.”
Chapter
Two
Kraken smile often. This should not comfort you.
–An Incomplete Guide to Kraken Survival
Pulse skittering, I glided toward the same door I’d entered, doing my best to appear unhurried while King Sebastian’s gaze bore into my back.
One step. Then the next. But dinner? With the king? Just the two of us? Or a welcome banquet for all ambassadors?
Sebastian Mórisi didn’t strike me as the sort to indulge in social niceties, especially those involving rival berserker factions.
I swallowed. And what did he mean by my duties?
As an ambassador, my official responsibilities were clear: relay messages between kraken and dragonkind, attend a monthly meeting, and report kingdom deviltries to my sister. Nothing more, nothing less.
Turning around to ask would require meeting those fathomless, bottomless eyes again. Hearing his sultry voice. Enduring the weight of his attention. Nein, thank you.
The moment I exited the throne room, a woman stepped neatly into my path. Coral-pink hair pulled into a severe braid. Tailored suit with pearl fastenings and fabric that glistened like wet silk. Clipboard in hand.
“Princess Bronwyn, I’m Freyja, your personal assistant,” she said, brisk.
If I had one word to describe this woman, it would be impeccable. “Are personal assistants standard for ambassadors?” They weren’t in Ashmorra. And Henry hadn’t mentioned one.
“Follow me, please,” she said, very obviously choosing not to answer my question. “I will escort you to your room. You’ll be staying in the palace tonight.” She pivoted and marched off.
I hurried after her, forced into an undignified jog to keep up. Forget the personal assistant. Being assigned a room here at the palace? Why? Ambassadors stayed in their embassies.
Freyja led me through corridors with quiet authority. As we walked, the walls curved, spiraled and unfolded like the inside of a seashell, all pale stone and opalescent veins. Still, she explained nothing.