Page 77 of The Kraken Bride

“Invite me in,” I said and gave the primordial my best smile. He’d claimed he was lonely. “Let’s have a dinner do-over. Just know, I intend to help Sebastian defeat you. So. Be prepared for that.”

He brightened, as if I’d suggested we play a fun new game. On his feet, he crossed to the wall and carved a rune into the stone with a claw. Slow. Unhurried. Letting me watch every line of it, because a creature who cannot die can afford to be generous.

“Come alone,” he instructed. “Come unarmed. Come as a guest and leave when I’m finished with you. If you can.”

Every condition revolved around me. Not one about his house or Sebastian. Exactly as I’d hoped.

“Ja,” I agreed. “All of that.”

When the rune found me and pulled, I let it…

Chapter

Twenty-Five

Never accept a kraken’s hospitality. Never refuse it, either.

–An Incomplete Guide to Kraken Survival

Jokull had just made one very big mistake “inviting” me to his manor. After six days in the mineral-heavy damp air of the cave, bombarded by Sebastian’s chill, I exited the warmth. In the seconds of my travel, Jokull had lit the space like a wedding. Candles by the hundred filled the dining room with dancing shadow while roasted fruit, clove and citrus mingled with the candle smoke.

The table stretched the length of the hall, and at the far end, past the wine and the silver and the meal, stood a cage, only a little bigger than a dog crate. And folded into it with her knees drawn up and her spine straight, sat Lady Harpa.

She was filing her claws. “Oh, good,” she said, without looking up. “The second guest has arrived. Do try the figs, dear.”

Jokull rose from his chair, every inch the gentleman, and drew out the seat at his right. “Little lizard.” His ash-and-gold eyes crinkled. “Welcome to our home. You honor us with your presence.”

Our home? My gaze shot to Harpa. Still filing those claws.

I moved forward. “As if I could pass up an opportunity to help my husband kill you once and for all.”

The primordial smiled as I eased onto the cushioned seat. “He’s certainly trying his best.” He motioned to the walls. Around us, dulled to a red smear by the dome, the sea was being taken apart. “The rune hasn’t drained Sebastian even the slightest bit.”

That should have relieved me. Instead, unease crawled down my spine. If the rune wasn’t draining Sebastian, what was it doing to him?

Jokull returned to his chair and poured wine. “He has killed a truly extraordinary number of my mers and shifters, and he is currently attempting to persuade my dome to admit him.” He slid the glass toward me. “It will, of course. Eventually. After I’ve tired him out.”

My veins flash-froze. More unease swamped me. What did Jokull know that I didn’t? Why be so confident that he could exhaust Sebastian? I played along to placate him. “That’s a good strategy.” But I’d thought of it first.

The compliment puffed up his chest with pride. “Isn’t it? When he comes through that wall, he does not leave it. Not ever. I won’t be dying today. He will. And with his death, I’ll contain the rune. Afterward, if you are still alive, you may go or stay. Your choice.”

“No longer eager to be friends with him?” I asked, sipping the wine.

“One must sacrifice for dreams.” He turned to blow Harpa a kiss. “An eternity with her is the dream.”

“My future is already crammed,” she replied, brushing a piece of invisible lint from her shoulder. “No reason to pencil you in.”

I looked past them both, at the red roiling sea. And there he was. Sebastian. My heart slammed against my ribs.

Cloaked in seething shadow, white light bleeding out of the cracks of him, hammering the dome with blows that would’ve flattened a mountain. His face remained perfectly calm. His shirt was gone and his chest a wreck of runes and the handprint I had burned into him in his office. His eyes were flat, gray and empty.

Agony tore at me. He was ten feet away, on the other side of a wall, and I was sitting at a table with the man who had killed his parents, but the one I loved didn’t look at me even once. His gaze remained past me. Over my shoulder, locked on Jokull.

I didn’t have to wonder what thoughts rolled through his mind. He was measuring the dome’s failure point, the angle of his strikes, and the distribution of his own weight.

“He doesn’t see you at all, does he?” Jokull asked, so polite.

“Nein,” I said, not letting myself wallow in hurt. This was only temporary. Soon, I would punch through that stone with my love. Remind him how good we were together. But first. Jokull must be handled. “You don’t see me either. Not really.” Otherwise, he wouldn’t have let me come.