Page 1 of The Kraken Bride

Prologue

Ican do this.

Drawing a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and stepped into a doorway between worlds—a massive slab of ancient rock with a flat top and twin pillars.

Dizziness surged and vanished in a single heartbeat. Ashmorra, the realm of dragons, fell away.

I blinked and suddenly mist drifted through a clearing older than time. Though I still stood within a traveling stone, I had crossed onto neutral ground. Here, all reigned equally. Even me, a ballet dancer who preferred spotlights only when paired with music, costumes and choreography. Not this. Never this.

Ten traveling stones set in a circle, power humming from each. Every king but one had already arrived, all berserkers who had spent centuries conquering kingdoms and it showed. Even now, they radiated aggression and authority. Griffin. Bear. Turul. Wolf. Lynx. Adder. Gargoyle.

Kraken.

Only the manticore king was missing, his traveling stone empty.

He would come. And I would not falter. My eldest sister, Olyssa, sent me in her stead, trusting me to cast a vote on her behalf.

I am Princess Bronwyn Drachenveil. I can do this. I can do anything.

The turul king, newly bonded to his firebrand, had demanded a referendum: peace through union. Allowing marriage between factions. Progress through entwined bloodlines. A way to end the friction between the various kingdoms.

I’d agreed to attend for two reasons. I loved my sister–all nine of my sisters–but also, if the vote passed, performers like me, all the artists, dancers, entertainers, would be allowed into realms long closed to outsiders. Marriages led to family visits. Visits led to tourism. Tourism led to shows, programs and concerts.

Olyssa understood how important this issue was to me. That she trusted me to carry out this mission, well, it left me both proud and determined to prove her faith in me had merit. I refused to let her down.

I knew we had the manticore on board. His ambassador had assured me of it only this morning. So where was he? Surely he would not miss this.

Nervousness prickled, and I fixed my gaze on a lone flower blooming at the center of the ring. Pink. Delicate. A small echo of home that reminded me of the gown I’d chosen for this event. A costume I’d worn to portray Flameborn, a warrior queen. Layers of blush silk whispered around my legs, while tiny crystals stitched into the bodice caught the moonlight and scattered it like fallen stars.

Ash and embers, why had I chosen a gown that bared my shoulders beneath an open midnight sky that felt far too close?

“If the manticore king cannot bring himself to attend, he forfeits the right to vote.” Malachi, the griffin king, tipped up his chin and dared anyone to disagree. “Let’s get this done.”

Nein! We needed the manticore’s support. “Why don’t we postpone—” I began.

But it was too late. I was too soft-spoken, and Callen, the wolf sovereign, spoke before I could. “I say aye.”

Viktor, the turul king, offered a rough “igen.” Hungarian for yes.

I hoped the others would agree. “I speak on behalf of Queen Olyssa and all dragons,” I said, my voice steady despite pressure against my ribs. “We say ja.” Yes. Three now.

One by one, the others announced their decisions.

No.

No.

Yes.

No.

No.

My breath snagged. A tie, with one verdict remaining. The kraken king. A legend of seduction and terror, good for a night and gone before dawn. Rumored to feed on fear.

In Ashmorra, he was known as the Beast of the Seas.

He stood opposite me, framed by monolithic rock darkened by salt and age. Taller than the others, broad-shouldered, and as still as the sea before a storm. Black hair streaked with iridescent strands hung loose around his shoulders, catching the light like oil on water.