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)
Though I’d only escaped his presence minutes ago, my body reacted, cells buzzing and bones vibrating.
Please be attraction, not fate. Please.
He stood flanked by two soldiers. One was the man who’d whispered in his ear during my formal greeting, and the other was as tall as a mountain. The three of them were examining whatever filled the crate, all of them on edge, retractable tridents drawn.
What in the world could be inside to cause such aggression? One of those nightmare-inducing deepwater eels Henry had warned me about?
Whatever occupied those wooden planks was bad enough to unsettle the realm’s most powerful man.
I shuddered.
Dangerous things crammed in a crate were decidedly none of my business. I’d chosen to be a ballerina, not a master-at-arms like my sister Adelaide, and certainly not a ruler like Queen Olyssa. But I was an ambassador now, charged to observe and report back to the dragon court. So, I searched for markings burned into the wood.
Shipping seals. Blood. Anything.
Nothing.
My focus shifted to Sebastian himself, and I went soft all over. Not my fault. Dragons loved admiring lovely things, and the king was beyond beautiful. Something I could soak in now that he was so distracted.
A smile curved the corners of my mouth as I rested my elbows on the rail and propped my chin in my palm. He had shed his tunic, though not his gloves. Muscle stacked upon muscle.
Despite the distance, I had no trouble tracing the images tattooed on his chest. A lattice of ancient sea-runes etched across his skin, forming a shield-like pattern. I couldn’t look away. Could only watch as a bead of sweat trickled between his pectorals, down the ridges of his abdomen, disappearing into the waist of his leathers. My pulse spiked.
What did the runes signify? Obviously, they weren’t doorways that circulated air like the ones on the dome and palace walls.
The scrape of wood against stone rose as he closed the crate’s lid. The muscles lining his forearms flexed as he worked, every movement controlled.
A sound suspiciously like a purr vibrated in my throat.
Bad Bronwyn. Bad. I returned to my list.
Cons
Possibly murderous
Invited me to his suite
Pros
Beautiful irises that don’t make me sick
Powerful
Multilingual
What did he enjoy doing in his free time? Other than building his strength and making women question their life choices?
What kind of heart lurked beneath his smug confidence?
He wasn’t careless. He wore responsibility and expectations with ease. A definite pro.
But what kind of women did he prefer? Bold beauties, I’d bet. Kraken were the most savage of berserkers and didn’t appreciate delicacy in any form. As a dancer, I must land squarely in the con column for him.
Could he be trusted? Unknown. Pending review.
I’d need a lot more information gained through observation. Preferably with his shirt on.
He said something to the non-mountainous soldier, who responded with what might have been a curse. Though I strained, I couldn’t detect their words, only the soft murmur of their voices.
The man stalked off.
King Sebastian flicked his eyes up and locked onto mine, that fractured light at their centers catching me mid-stare, as if he’d sensed me from the beginning.
I straightened with a gasp, cheeks blazing.
He arched his brow, and I had no trouble deciphering his unspoken question: See something you like, princess?
I couldn’t say what came over me. Instead of being timid, as usual, I fully embraced the character my current costume represented: a bold queen assured of her power.
Tipping back my chin, I silently responded. Wouldn’t you like to know, majesty?
His mouth curved. Not a smile but a challenge, and heat coiled through my veins, unwelcome and undeniable. If that was the pull of a firebrand…
I pressed my hands to my belly and backtracked, escaping his view. But I couldn’t escape my traitorous body.
This wasn’t good. Not good at all.
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.