Shattered by the Sea Lord - Starla Night Page 0,95

not reward your arrogance, but it has been a long time since anyone has provided a proper entertainment.” The king rested on his trident. “Enlighten me. How will you defeat me?”

“I will not defeat you.”

The king nodded, irritated by the blather.

“But I promise you that in a short time, the attacks on humans will cease. The young fry you have trapped and terrorized will return to their fathers. The Lusca you have created will no longer exist. And you will not rule on the Life Tree dais.”

“Ah. Will the new king be you?”

Ciran shook his head. “The warrior who takes your place and commands the city will be its rightful ruler: Prince Ankena.”

The king jolted with shock.

Prince Lukiyo tore his gaze away from the kraken. “My father is alive?”

“Do not feed his delusion,” the king snapped. “If he manipulates you so easily, perhaps you should share Nuno’s shackles and find out for yourself how he died.”

Prince Lukiyo clenched his trident.

The king turned his attention back to Ciran. “These traitors have fed you just enough information to construct an impressive fantasy. But I do not swallow such trickery. No one will overhear this lie and come to your aid. My warriors have swept the ocean clean. No rebels or exiles remain.”

“Except for the most important ones. And they do not need to hear my words because they already know. Your actions have summoned them. They are coming, and you cannot stop their quest for justice.”

The king frowned and glanced around. A few of his warriors appeared to listen, but most still watched the kraken.

“I am speaking, of course, of the ones you betrayed.” Ciran pointed up, where two more reef squids fluttered past. “The sacred brides.”

Itime and Konomelu looked up and locked eyes with him.

“The sacred brides?” The king shook his head. “Ridiculous.”

“My king.” Warrior Figuara floated forward apologetically. “We should not have entered the sacred church.”

“It is long empty.”

“But, my king, our sacred brides—”

“Lusca has no sacred brides, and Lusca needs no sacred brides. They are a weakness. What do we need of sacred brides when we can steal recruits whenever we want?” The king waved at the young fry who clustered into a tight, defensive ball.

Perfect.

“Yes, my king, but we still have a duty to protect the island. Our ancestors promised, and—”

“Silence, Figuara, or you will join the other traitors.”

Figuara twisted his trident in his hands, worrying the worn metal. He had certainly lost favor with the king. His trident was old and dinged. But it was functional, and the older warriors listened to him.

The king changed tack. “This Atlantis warrior speaks what you most want to hear. But we all know Ankena is dead. The sacred brides are gone. We had to take these young fry for their own protection. How could they be raised by humans? They would become shrimp lurking in holes.”

The Luscans settled. Figuara studied the young fry with pity.

Ciran laughed. “Humans? What humans are you talking about? Humans did not raise these young fry. They were raised by brides. Brides on your sacred island. Brides that my mate taught how to become queens.”

Another murmur spread through the warriors.

He held the king’s gaze, mirth still bubbling in his chest. “Queens that are coming here to reclaim their young fry and their husbands. Reclaim what you took. Right now.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

It was a good speech.

It riveted the Luscans. A deep frown wrinkled Figuara’s brow. He looked back at the older warriors and then at Itime and Konomelu, who were both sharing Ciran’s arch smile. They had to feel their brides coming, too.

But it was a little premature.

There was a long silent pause.

The king cracked a smile. “What a clever Undine joke. ‘The brides are coming and they are mythic queens with unimaginable powers.’ Paugh. There is no such thing as queens, and no brides are coming here because Lusca has none.” He shooed Figuara back. “Do not forget your place. Or the next traitor I sacrifice will be you.”

Figuara kicked away from the dais but he did not return to his former drifting location. He straightened and gestured. The older warriors he had just acknowledged subtly moved behind him.

“Now.” The king gripped the lever. “Witness my might.”

Wong.

A strange vibration filled the city. A low, resonant hum grew and faded on a rhythm.

The mirror stones creaked in their fittings.

The king hesitated.

“What was that?” One of Ciran’s guard whirled, seeking the source of the noise. “Some strange animal?”

“Distance could distort an animal’s call,” the other guard said. “I hear