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)
I stopped resisting the pull, letting it suck me and Harpa through. The manor vanished and a palace vault appeared around us. A space with stone walls and a dirt floor, empty save for the man standing in the center of it.
Sebastian. He didn’t move or speak. Just breathed and looked blankly. But I… I couldn’t feel him anymore.
I frowned and extended the stone, a peace offering. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“The rune is letting me taste its power.” His tone was flat. Emotionless. “It’s already fading, but slowly.”
Air snagged in my lungs. It had gone through me and stayed in him. Desperate, I scrabbled deeper for our tether, the way I had a hundred times since the cave.
Nothing.
“This is who you will soon be married to,” he said, his expression blank. Then he walked out.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
The kraken does not break his word. He breaks you and keeps the pieces.
–An Incomplete Guide to Kraken Survival
Six Hours Until Convergence
That shell of the man I loved was just a taste of the runestone’s deadness? Was this what it would be like for him? With him?
Sebastian had lived through a tragic childhood. Became king too soon. Bore heavy burdens that would have sunk any other man. He deserved a future full of joy and laughter. That was what I’d wanted for him from the beginning.
He could not go out this way.
“Well?” Harpa said, holding her tray of cupcakes. “Are you going to stand here lamenting what’s happened, or go fix it?”
Argh. Royal kraken were worse than royal dragons by miles. But still I hurried after my husband, following him into his office.
He sat at the desk and opened a book as if I wasn’t present.
Stomach churning, I set the runestone to his left and perched in front of him. “Hey,” I said gently, tracing my fingertips over his cheek.
He leaned back in his chair, peering at me as if I had no business being here.
I shook with horror and shock. No warning, no explanation, no amount of preparation could have readied me for the reality of this. The rune had reached out to him.
How dare the rune touch him without my permission?
“I. Say. Nein. No permission!” I growled at the ancient artifact, switching from gentle caresses to absolute action in an instant.
I slammed my hand over my brand and his chest. Once. Twice. My palm burned through his clothing and seared his chest, leaving a print behind. My mark and a clear message to the rune: Leave.
It obeyed, not even trying to fight, and the block between us opened, allowing fury, relief, and love to pour into me.
Sebastian yanked me onto his lap. I curled into him, clinging. He enfolded me in his arms and released a heavy breath. “I know we both wanted there to be another option, but I think we suspected deep down there wasn’t.”
“Ja.” A whimper lodged in my throat. How effortlessly Jokull had come back to life after his beheading. “I understand the rune is the only way. I felt its power, too. But I can’t release your heart. I just can’t. So. We will give mine. Because it is now yours.”
He stroked my cheek. “Nei, love. I’m not strong enough for that. So you must be stronger and give it the one I’ve given you.”
I was shaking my head, ready to fight this out, when the whispers hit me. Not my ears, but my being. The rune, with a message of its own: I’ll take one or the other, but either way, I’ll take.
Our gazes met, both of us forgetting how to breathe. He’d heard it too.
One Minute Thirty Seconds Until Convergence
Time was running out. The convergence was coming, and neither of us was willing to bend on who must give up whom.
We stood in the center of the Singing Reefs, where we’d once played, the rune set between our feet.
As minutes counted down, the sky over Krakenströnd turned the color of an old bruise. I felt the storm in my teeth, in the mark on my chest. Stirring and brewing.
Beyond the dome, the outer tide dragged one direction, the dome tide dragged another, and above them both, the moon leaned down, enormous. Three things bending toward each other like conspirators.
Sebastian’s warriors ringed us in silent ranks. Harpa perched on a reef arm, in her battle leathers, hair scraped back, chin high, and she did not look at her grandson. She could not. I understood.
Gunnar waited near us, his blades already out.
Sebastian took my hands in his. “The clock starts when the rune speaks,” he said, grave.
Cracks of light spread over the entire stone. Splintered. The stone’s edges softened, blackness bleeding into the ground. With a final ripple, it slipped under our feet and churned around us. Then…
“I’m ready,” he told the rune, and light climbed his boots, his calves, his spine, claiming him. I watched it happen, hating every second. But I had my plan. One I would not break.