Page 88 of Heart of the Deep

“They are strong,” Ector said. “Much stronger than they look. And your mate…she is a warrior. She rests now, but she will be ready to battle soon. We must ensure that the ones who did this — the real ones — are the only ones who pay for it.”

“What good is my strength if it cannot help them now?” Dracchus looked back at his mate and brushed her hair away from her face, carefully hooking it behind her ear with a claw.

“It’s a different sort of strength they need from you now, Dracchus,” Ector said gently, “but it is one you have in abundance. Be here for them now. Do not yet act upon your anger. That is not what will help them through.”

My anger?

He hadn’t allowed himself to feel his anger, hadn’t allowed the full force of it to rise from the depths and crash over him like a wave. Dracchus believed that Kronus had nothing to do with this. He’d seen the attempts, as of late, to restrain Neo and the others. Just before the humans had fired upon the kraken hunting party, Kronus had attempted to sway Neo from attacking.

Kronus was misguided and hateful, but he had shown no desire to throw away kraken lives needlessly.

This was Neo’s doing. He’d insisted on the hunt, having never led one before. He’d insisted on waiting out the sandseekers rather than using bait. And he’d abandoned his comrades once he realized the danger to himself.

A cry broke the quiet of the room. Though he’d never heard her in such pain and discomfort, he knew it had come from Sarina, and it was as relieving as it was heart-wrenching. Dracchus twisted to look toward them, watching as Macy soothed the youngling, but Larkin’s shivering drew his attention back to his mate.

Her eyes were open, clearer than they’d been the first time. She covered his hand with her own. “Best picnic ever,” she murmured, “apart from the poison. Are you okay?”

“I am fine,” he replied.

“He has a harpoon through a tentacle,” Ector said.

“What?” Larkin raised her head.

Dracchus guided her back down, casting a glare at the elder. “It is nothing.”

“I will join Vasil,” Ector said. He departed quietly.

“Why is there a harpoon in your tentacle?” Larkin asked.

“Rangers,” Randall replied, approaching Larkin’s other side. He placed a hand on her arm and squeezed. “They went a little crazy on the fishing gear.”

“Dad?”

Randall’s face fell, and he dropped his gaze. “Don’t know. Could’ve been.”

Larkin turned her head toward Randall. “He probably thinks we’re dead.”

“If he didn’t think I was dead that whole time, Elle, he’s not going to start thinking it now.”

She glanced past Randall. “How are Melaina and Rhea?”

“They’re getting by. Just got Rhea to finally lie down. She’s almost as stubborn as you sometimes.”

Larkin’s chuckle was cut short; she winced and pressed a hand to her stomach.

Dracchus frowned and leaned over her, covering her hand with his. “You need to rest, female.” He looked at Randall. “No morejokes.”

A pained snarl cut off whatever response Randall might’ve made. Dracchus’s gaze followed the sound to Kronus’s bed.

Arkon handed a blood-smeared harpoon to Brexes, who wrapped it in a cloth and set it aside. “That was the easy part,” Arkon said as he shifted the overhead scanner into place. “It might be best if you don’t attempt to retain consciousness.” He folded another piece of cloth several times and held it to Kronus’s mouth. “Bite down on this. It will help, if only a little.”

“Just do it,” Kronus growled before clamping his teeth over the cloth.

“Think Arkon purposely forgot the anesthetic?” Aymee muttered.

Kronus’s muffled cries of pain might once have brought a twisted sort of satisfaction to Dracchus, but now they only grated on him, vibrating through his bones and constricting his chest. If asked a few days ago, he would’ve said without hesitation that Kronus deserved to suffer.

Here, now, that seemed like the wrong answer.

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