Alien Kraken’s Prize (Starlight Brides)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

BORUMOR

It is not an easy thing to rule fairly when those you govern despise you.

Even now, they look on me and my throne with clear distaste, their tentacles stiff with displeasure, the gills of the fishmen practically unmoving.

I sigh, resisting the urge to massage my aching temple.

I am so tired of their shit.

“A commoner,” they whispered as I ascended the throne last year. “A disgrace to all of the Kalamatri.”

Even now, I can hear the echoes of the nobles’ disgust in the way the air bubbles around them.

The difference is, I don’t care.

So, instead of rubbing my temples or clenching my jaw or glaring at them, I simply raise my eyebrows and wait.

“We must discuss your marriage plans. It is high time you produce an heir,” the Duke of Neslina says, looking down his imperious nose at me.

“Is it?” I ask, bored with this conversation.

Ever since I took the throne, this has been the immediate line of the nobles. Produce an heir.

I know why.

I am no fool. Produce an heir, and then they can murder me, poison the most likely weapon of these cowards, and control the heir.

It is much easier to control a baby than a full-grown warrior who bled to sit on the very throne they despise so much.

The duke shares a quick glance with Mistrenti, the head of the advisor’s council.

Mistrenti’s blue rings glow brighter on his slick tentacles, so pleased is he with this development.

Apparently, they think I am warming to the option of taking as a wife one of their miserable daughters.

They would be incorrect.

A commotion stirs at the circular door, and a moment later, it’s clear what’s caused the hubbub.

Zayros, one of the most obnoxious of all the nobles, emerges from the coral-crusted porthole. Various fish scatter as he swims through, his typical smug expression on his face.

I’m used to it.

Behind him, though, is something I’ve never seen.

A creature, of some species I don’t know, curled up tight inside a bubble of air. It is tiny, sleeping, the small mouth open, most of its face hidden by a mop of hair.

“I have brought you a pet,” Zayros croons. “A courting gift from my house to the royal house. Very rare.”

There are no tentacles where there should be. No tail, no fins, nothing.

“A land creature?” I ask, forgetting that I should remain aloof, uncaring.

“Indeed,” Zayros says, his tail slicing through the water behind him. “Do you accept this courting gift?” he asks.

I should not have let him see my interest in this rarity.

A land creature, for a pet. I can’t stop marveling at it, the way its chest rises and falls as it breathes. Air, no less.

Breathes air and only air.

I can hardly comprehend it.

An incredible rarity, clearly from some outlander planet most would not even dream of visiting.

I, like most of my species, can survive out of the oceans for a while, though I can attest the experience is less than ideal. Those species on our planet with gills, however, need to be fully immersed.

“Does the pet satisfy you, my liege?” Zayros asks, a sly smile on his face.

My usual calculated, apathetic responses fail me.

“I want it taken to my chambers and put in a terrarium immediately,” I tell him. The creature’s features are impossibly delicate and fragile, the strange appendages extending from its bottom half fascinating.

Zayros’ smug expression grows triumphant; I’ve erred in accepting this gift of a pet from him.

I can’t bring myself to care much about what he thinks.

“I will bring my daughter to your quarters to begin courtship negotiations?—”

“I said nothing of courtship negotiations,” I interrupt, my tentacles writhing as I position myself at my full height over Zayros. The trident in my hand, a symbol of my power, crackles with energy.

His self-satisfied smile falls, and anger flares in its place.

“I tire of court today.” I make myself sneer at him, and power zips along the razor-sharp tips of the trident. “I will oversee the building of the creature’s habitat myself.” I level a glare at the murmuring lords, who fall silent.

I don’t deign to say another word as I take the shining cord wrapped around the bubble from the servant and storm from the council room, my tentacles changing from purple to a fiery red in accordance with my anger.