Page 38

38

Claira

W hen we came out of the teleport, I had no idea where we were. But there was Jagati, his eyes blazing like hot coals in the dark water, searing us with the force of his rage from across the debris-strewn path.

“Puppet!” The knight’s roar had me jolting in Abyssal’s steady arms. Jagati lifted his spears high, veins bulging, fury lining each drawn muscle bunched around his neck.

“Ah, there you are.” Abyssal, in contrast, was all calm and confidence. With a sweep of tentacles, he drew us closer to the threat of Jagati’s spears.

“You dare to show your face to me?” The growl snapped through the water, making me flinch again.

Now that Jagati had lost his composure, he sure looked a lot like his sister. I had no trouble believing he’d earned every one of his battle scars.

“Indeed. My apologies for borrowing the princess for such an extended period.” It was hardly an apology. Abyssal sounded more disinterested than anything else, not remorseful in the slightest. “The queen has requested her assistance with locating the merfolk’s trident, you see.”

Wait… was that true? I tried to catch his gaze, silently asking just that, but all Abyssal offered was a small, secretive smirk before he turned his attention back to Jagati.

“As you can see, we were unsuccessful.” He shrugged. “But perhaps the two of you will have better luck.”

… What? Oh, absolutely not.

Abyssal drew us even closer— freaking sea wizard! —while I pressed against his neck, hissing into his ear. “ What the heck, Abyssal? You expect me to ? — ”

“The two of you appear to be quite familiar with one another.” Jagati’s voice cut over my panic, each word heavy with displeasure. He set his warrior’s gaze on Abyssal, the tips of the tentacles wielding his spears twitching, eager to lash. “You will return the princess to me at once, puppet .”

But instead of complying, Abyssal pulled me closer to him, his arms firm around my waist. “Patience, knight .” He spun us around, positioning himself as a shield between me and Jagati’s mounting rage.

He leaned in, his lips brushing tenderly against my ear. “I wish you all the luck in the seas, my dear little captive.” The words rippled softly between us. “Even if I’m not there to see it.”

Confusion washed through me, my brows knitting together. “Luck with what exactly?” Jagati? Finding the trident? I was going to need a lot of luck to handle both, but why had he said it like that?

He didn’t answer. Abyssal’s thumb grazed the shell hanging at my neck, a final, fleeting contact before he pulled away. My frown deepened as his tentacles swept me toward Hari’s brother, depositing me into his awaiting grasp.

Ugh . The difference was jarring. Jagati’s tentacles were rougher and heavier, wrapping around me like a tightening net from shoulders to tail.

My eyes stayed on Abyssal as he withdrew slowly, drifting back like a shadow. I imagined for a moment that he was lingering here for the same reason I couldn’t take my eyes off him when a sleek, sinuous creature shot out from the debris, sliding a smooth coil around the back of his neck.

Aracos .

So that was how he’d known exactly where to find Jagati.

“Traitors,” I whispered, even as everything inside me seemed to contradict the word. One look at Abyssal’s stark white eyes on mine had my lips tingling, my emotions stirring with a deep, undeniable affection.

“Hey, Abyssal,” I called out, desperate for one more moment before he disappeared. “If I find your chamber later, will you strike another?—”

He was gone before I could finish. Both Abyssal and Aracos vanished, leaving me with an emptiness that felt like it reached deep into my soul.

“Dammit,” I muttered. “Do you think he heard me?” The words had barely left my lips before I remembered Jagati and immediately wished I’d kept my mouth shut.

“Princess Just Claira .” Unwieldy arms drew around my waist, clamping like vengeful serpents. Yikes . The knight’s arms were so stiff. Had he never learned how to hold anything other than a weapon?

Was he holding me like this because he’d just seen Abyssal do the same? Whatever the reason, I wasn’t a fan.

Looking at Jagati, I could still see his fury simmering, but he managed to keep it in check as he asked, “You were searching for the trident with him?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said, deflecting my gaze. “We were.” Trident searching. Absolutely zero kissing involved. Definitely none of that.

A chill ran through me, and I forced myself not to flinch. Even without looking at Jagati’s eyes directly, I could sense it—he hadn’t believed a word.

“What about you?” I asked, my voice matching the clumsiness of his grip around my waist. I lifted my chin. “Find any cool spoils of war?”

For a moment, Jagati appeared engrossed in his thoughts, barely registering my question. “You know,” he said at last, his tone defensively sharp, “my shoulders are wider than his.”

Uh, what? I blinked, completely caught off guard. It was such a random comment, especially coming from a towering, battle-scarred knight.

He squared those broad shoulders like he was daring me to notice, to compare, to say something that would tip the scale in his favor.

“Okay?” I arched an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure even your sister has him beat there.”

“So, you have noticed.” There was a flicker of relief, a fleeting moment before the knight’s expression turned serious again. “If you are aware of all that he is lacking, then I cannot fathom why you would bother seeking out that shadow puppet in his chamber.”

Lacking? First, he’d called me lacking, and now Abyssal?

“You sure have a knack for deciding everyone else’s flaws,” I shot back, shoving against him to put some space between us. “I’m not seeking him out for his shoulders, Jagati. And, just to be clear, his shoulders are perfectly fine. Abyssal isn’t lacking anything.”

Except his freedom might have been slightly lacking. But he wasn’t the only one trapped by a fate he didn’t choose.

Jagati’s jaw clenched, that scarred lip coiling into the faintest snarl before he forced it away. “You call him by name. Defend him. Why?” His voice grated like gravel. “Princess, you must know that a man who cannot choose his battles is no true man—certainly not one worthy of a princess’s attention.”

A princess’s attention—because that’s all I was to him. To all the cecaelia, except for Abyssal. Just a title, my only value apparently tied to the damn crown on my head .

“And you think you’re a man who gets to choose his own battles?” Magic crackled at my fingertips, barely contained. I tilted my head, letting a smirk curl at the corner of my lips. “Funny, because I just saw how much you were holding back. He gave you every chance to drive a spear into his back—to try it, at least—but I noticed you didn’t. Why’s that? Because we both know damn well you were dying to.”

Jagati’s face hardened, those stern, battle-worn eyes narrowing. “Do you think I would have hesitated if it were anyone else?” His frustration was obvious in every syllable. “That puppet belongs to our queen. Her Majesty sent him here to find you. I can do many things, but I cannot defy her will.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my ocean silks. “So, a man who can’t choose his own battles. Got it.”

Score one for me. Jagati: zero.

Jagati’s teeth ground together with a sharp, displeased sound before he took off without warning, dragging us through the winding alleys of Malkeevo. A true sore loser.

Were we heading back toward the central palace? If we were searching for the Indian Ocean’s trident, it would make sense to look there first. But if Barren was right about his sister keeping her trident on land, this was going to be a complete waste of time.

The thought of returning to my chamber was becoming increasingly more appealing by the second. Because even as we moved, Jagati’s excessively muscular arms stayed securely around me. Even a glorified cage was better than being trapped with him.

“For the record,” I said, trying to pry his arms off of me to no avail. “ I am the only one who gets to decide who’s worthy of my attention.”

We came to an abrupt halt. “Then tell me,” Jagati said, eyes boring into mine, as dark as they were desperate. “What must I do to earn your favor?”

I blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sudden shift. “U-uh, well…”

He didn’t give me a chance to answer. One of his arms finally released me, pounding his chest with a resolute thump. “I am Jagati, bane of kings, a warrior of great renown. My skill with a spear is unmatched in these waters, and my loyalty to the crown is unwavering.”

He spoke with such fierce certainty, almost like he was trying to do more than just convince me but also reassure himself of his worthiness.

Apparently, he wasn’t yet done.

“It is because of me that the Undersea is victorious on this day.” His nearly translucent tentacle lifted, the wiry end curling just inches from my face. “ I weakened this kingdom. Paved the way for everything you see before you now.”

He gestured widely, drawing attention to the wreckage around us.

This was his doing? I studied him, his proud chest, his hunger for recognition, struggling to suppress my revulsion. “You weakened this kingdom? How?”

True to form, he was eager to tell me. That roguish smirk returned as he boasted, “It surprises me that after all your time in the Undersea, you have yet to hear the tale.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You have heard of the merfolk’s pampered queen, yes? If it were not for me, this kingdom would have fallen under the rule of a much more formidable leader—an even greater threat to the Undersea than the king who came before him.”

My eyes locked on that frail tentacle, its end curling proudly. Jagati followed suit, looking at the tentacle as if he believed it to be the mightiest force in the sea.

“Y-you…” I choked out, but my voice faltered, my stomach twisting into knots. All I could hear was the heavy sound of Barren’s voice playing in my mind, recounting the reason his kingdom had rejected him.

Dark spawn. One caught me by my right arm, wound around it. I cut myself free, but I’d already lost more in that moment than a young merfry could imagine.

“Yes,” Jagati said, his scarred grin stretching wider. “I took down Malkeevo’s most promising heir with the might of a single tentacle.”

Barren.

My thoughts whirled, struggling to align Jagati’s boast with the profound pain it had caused someone so dear to me.

The might of a single tentacle?

The might?

“How dare you?” My voice cracked with an anger I no longer cared to contain. “ Bane of kings? You are delusional, Jagati. Despicable. ”

For a moment, Jagati’s face went slack, his eyes rounding like he’d never encountered such a reaction to the story he’d so proudly told. “Princess?”

“And you think you’re some great warrior?” My nails dung into the sides of his beefed-up arms, teetering on the edge of releasing a surge of magic I wasn’t sure he couldn’t already feel. “What exactly are you so proud of? You touched him, that’s all. He was the one who cut himself free, wasn’t he? That’s why your tentacle grew back like this.”

I hadn’t even been sure if cecaelia could regrow a lost tentacle, but the haunted look on Jagati’s face when I mentioned it all but confirmed it.

“He fought back, and you have the nerve to claim it as your victory?” My voice was caught in a struggle between bitter mockery and seething anger. “‘Warrior of great renown’? Please . You are so utterly full of shit, Jagati. It could have been any cecaelia, any tentacle—the outcome would’ve been the same,” I spat. “It just happened to be yours.”

Jagati hissed in a sharp breath, his eyes darting between mine with a wide, unblinking stare. He looked almost lost, like a man who’d never been spoken to in such a way, and now he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Good.

Honestly, I’d fully expected him to lash out or defend his precious pride, but he just drifted, entirely still.

Did that make point number two for me? Suddenly, this felt like a game I didn’t even want to be playing, because the first part of him to move was the corner of his scarred lip.

It twitched in a way that wasn’t quite a smile but was close enough to make my skin crawl.

“No one…” His voice was low, almost reverent. “No one has ever spoken to me the way you just have.”

The way he was looking at me, it was like he wanted me to keep going, to keep tearing into him.

Oh, shit.

He was suddenly watching me like I was the most captivating thing he’d ever encountered, those clumsy arms around my waist becoming considerably more awkward. But they also grew more deliberate, more forceful.

“No one’s ever called you out on your bullshit? Not even Hari?” I glared at him, hoping the burning hatred in my eyes would be enough to scorch whatever delusional fantasy he was weaving in that twisted head of his. “I find that hard to believe.”

But Jagati kept leaning in closer. He was drawn to my defiance like my fury was some kind of intoxicating perfume he couldn’t get enough of.

“I have misjudged you,” he murmured, that rough burr in his voice going disturbingly soft. “I see now that you have not inherited your mother’s temperament.”

Was that supposed to be a compliment?

My magic flared in response, a wild, unpredictable surge. And for a moment, I considered it—considered showing him exactly how different from his expectations I could be.

“Don’t think for a second that I care about your opinion,” I snapped, my tone unforgivingly cold. “And since you think you have some sort of claim on me, let me make this perfectly clear—if I’m given a choice, Jagati, you will never become my rook.”

Jagati’s proud shoulders, which he thought were so impressive, flinched.

There. Now, he knew with one hundred percent certainty that I was not and never would be interested.

Then he breathed out, “Such spirit.” A low, awed whisper.

Freaking seriously?

“Even if I don’t have any say in it,” I continued, although my intensity was somewhat subdued, “just know that this venture, right here, is going to be the first and last time I ever let you touch me.”

“Your words are very bold,” Jagati murmured, swiping the back of his hand under his broad chin as if in thought. His tentacles shifted, maneuvering us underneath a narrow archway. “I look forward to testing them.”

The absolute gall of this man.

“You know what?” I shot back, glaring. “I’m so done with— whoa .”

We turned a corner, and my breath hitched. “Uh…” My mouth hung open. Above us, a school of abnormally large, bloated fish was descending upon the kingdom.

Scratch that. There was nothing school-ish about these fish. They were a freaking army.

I could see the other cecaelia around us had noticed as well. They poured out of every crevice, abandoning their spoils and scrambling to pick up their weapons.

“What is this?” Jagati’s tentacles flared, halting us to raise his spears.

What did he mean, ‘What is this?’ Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to know?

We definitely didn’t have fish like these in the Atlantic. They were so fast despite their size. I’d never seen anything like them, even on nature documentaries back on land.

Without warning, Jagati dropped to the seafloor. In one swift motion, he had shoved me behind a nearby pillar, his expression going fierce. “Stay here, princess,” he commanded, although his eyes never left the threat above. “Do not move.”

Where the heck did he think I was going to go?

Feeling suddenly vulnerable with my useless tail, I pressed my back against the stone, its cold surface sharpening my alertness even more.

“Wait, Jagati—” My eyes traced the knight’s movements as he turned back to the army above. “You’re leaving me? ”

My sea wizard would never.

“Do not worry. I will cover you.” In a swift, fluid motion, Jagati’s tentacles surged. A cloud of thick, viscous darkness exploded over me, blotting out all of my surroundings in an instant.

My pulse pounded as I tried to make sense of it.

“Oh—” A sharp, briny scent filled my nose, stinging my eyes. My mouth— holy crap —it was in my mouth.

Was it… ink?

I coughed, gagging on the slimy texture coating my throat. “What the fuck, Jagati?”

This was his idea of ‘covering me’?

His ink was everywhere, clinging to me, hanging in the water like tendrils of smoke. I lifted my arms through the haze, squinting in disbelief as strands of it stretched between my fingers, settling on my skin in sticky black ropes.

Annoyance buzzed through me, my magic flaring. It tingled over my skin as I thought about teleporting somewhere just to get rid of all of this ink.

Before I could, something poked my shoulder. At least half of my hearts jumped into my throat as I whipped around, coming face-to-face with one of the fat fish, its puffy face striped with strings of ink.

My hands clamped around the pillar behind me, but the fish just stared at me with unblinking eyes, holding a jumble of fabric in its mouth—a shirt, maybe?

Hold on—hadn’t I just seen a similar fish carrying a bra?

Then the fish’s bloated body started bobbing in place, and all I could do was stare at it, utterly bewildered.

“Claira.”

My entire world tilted. No—it couldn’t be. It was impossible.

“Close your eyes.”

Every muscle in my body locked up. That voice… I’d longed for it, dreamed of it, and now, against all reason, here it was.

Barren’s voice. My Barren.

He was close enough to reach my thoughts with his mind.