Page 7 of Jewel of the Sea

Was that the key? When he looked upon his creations, he held them against unattainable perfection and saw all the little flaws — the very flaws that drew the eye and instilled uniqueness in a piece.

What would Aymee see in these walls? What might she make them with some of her paint and adequate time?

Though he’d only spoken to her once, Arkon had no doubt she’d breathe life into this impersonal structure; Macy had managed as much by her mere presence in the Facility. What wonders might be wrought by Aymee’s talent?

Arkon sought thewhat-ifsin the unadorned walls as he passed them, but he could not do her imagination justice; anything he might dream up was inadequate, unimportant, unworthy of her.

He crossed into the building markedCABINS, where the Facility’s human inhabitants had once dwelled, and his thoughts again shifted. The design here was softer — abundant curves muted the harshness present in the main building’s perfect angles. It was an illusion, of sorts; everything in this living space was arranged with equal precision, and the repeating patterns were just as obvious.

Macy and Jax used one of these chambers as their den. No kraken had denned in this building before them, and few had reason or desire to do so even now — kraken could breathe and function adequately on land but were more comfortable in the water. The other buildings — either partially or fully flooded — suited Arkon’s people better.

And yet, Arkon had chosen to claim a chamber of his own here, in the air, as Macy’s pregnancy had advanced and his supply exchanges with Aymee continued.

Since the first such exchange, he’d taken to placing carved stones in the containers he left for Aymee. Macy had never mentioned whether Aymee asked after the stones in her letters, but none of them had been returned…and Aymee had begun including gifts for Arkon in her canisters.

He took the long way through the looping corridors to reach his den without passing Jax and Macy’s. Once inside, he closed the door and took the supply canister in his tentacles. His hearts thumped, and his hands trembled as he removed the lid and placed it on the nearby bed.

Arkon peered into the canister. It was laden with the usual fare — soap, medicine, food, and clothing for Macy, along with the letters sent by her friends and family from The Watch. Tucked to one side was a large paper rolled into a neat tube.

He reached in and grasped the paper between forefinger and thumb, drawing it out of the container. It was secured around the middle by a bit of brown string, attached to which was a thick paper tag.ARK,it said in big, flowing writing; she demonstrated her artistry even in the mundane.

Arkon longed to hear his name from Aymee’s lips again.

He gently worked the tip of a claw into the knot and loosened the string, sliding it off the paper. Then, mindful of his claws, he unrolled the tube.

The subject of the painting was immediately apparent — the jungle. Arkon had been in the jungle several times to help Jax gather plants for Macy to eat, but he’d never seen it as Aymee depicted it here. This was the jungle beneath the stars — deep, dark purples and blues contrasted by the shining silver and muted gold of the stars and moons, illuminated from within by strange, glowing plants.

Closer inspection revealed the strokes of paint that comprised the image; they were loose, almost haphazard, and meaningless on their own or in small clusters. But, somehow, they came together to form a vibrant, detailed whole.

He crossed the room and used a metal clip to hang the painting on the wall alongside the others she’d sent. The sea during a storm; sunlight shining through the window of a small room with a narrow bed cast in somehow sorrowful shadow; an unfamiliar, hair-covered beast in a grassy field; and his favorite, a painting that was nothing but a jumble of rich, expressive color, which belied an underlying method despite its chaos.

Backing away, he studied each painting. They were so varied in subject and approach, in colors, form, and emotion, and yet each bore a certain quality that marked them ashers.

And she’d given them to him.

Before he could get lost in thought again, he forced himself back to the bed. He replaced the lid on the canister and exited the room, making his way toward Jax and Macy’s den.

The exchanges were for Macy, after all, and it wasn’t right to make her wait any longer for news from her loved ones.

The door of their den was open, and the soft sounds of Macy’s laughter drifted into the hall as Arkon approached. Stopping outside the doorway, he glanced inside.

Macy sat, leaning against the head of the bed, with Jax laid across it. One of his tentacles was raised, tip curled down to tickle the youngling between them.

Such simple, innocent joy had been a rarity before Macy came to stay at The Facility. Kraken had typically found satisfaction in solitude — Jax and Arkon’s friendship was an oddity in its depth and sincerity, but each had still spent most of his time alone. What Macy and Jax had built here, their little family, had changed everything the kraken knew, and that sense of family, of community, was spreading to the others.

Macy and Jax had received visitors so frequently as of late that they’d taken to keeping their door closed more often than not to ensure their youngling, Sarina, received adequate rest. She was a wonder — the child of a human and a kraken. Potentially the future of their race when kraken females were so few and offspring so rare.

The connection between Macy and Jax was something Arkon couldn’t have imagined possible, were it not before his eyes. That she considered Arkon a friend was humbling. He enjoyed his time with her; she appreciated his art, offered unique insights, and was even teaching him to read and write.

Arkon couldn’t help feeling a hint of jealousy. He wanted a mate of his own, someone to share his den with. Someone he could talk to as often and openly as Jax to Macy. Someone who understood what drove him, even when he did not, who shared his interests and passions, and didn’t view him as strange.

“Arkon?”

Jax’s voice startled Arkon from his thoughts. Macy smiled at him from across the room, as welcoming and warm as she’d always been with him.

“Why are you just standing there? Come in, Uncle Arkon!” she said, motioning him closer.

Swallowing his embarrassment, he entered the chamber. Jax regarded him with a furrowed brow as he approached.

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