Jewel of the Sea
The Kraken #2
Tiffany Roberts
Copyright © 2018 by Tiffany Freund and Robert Freund Jr.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means, including scanning, photocopying, uploading, and distribution of this book via any other electronic means without the permission of the author and is illegal, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the publishers at the address below.
Tiffany Roberts
[email protected]
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Illustration © 2018 by Cameron Kamenicky
Proofread by Amy Cissell
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Also by Tiffany Roberts
Collaboration
About the Author
Dedicated to my true love. You are the wind in my sails, and the seagull screeching in my ear.
Thanks to Cameron Kamenicky and Naomi Lucas for creating our beautiful cover. You two are the best! And Amy Cissell who, despite feeling under the weather, pushed through to help us get this book edited in time for release.
Special thanks to all our readers who took a chance on us!
Chapter 1
361 Years After Landing
Aymee smiled as she walked along the beach. The sunlight warmed her skin, sand squished between her toes, and she knew he was watching.
Arkon.
Her mysterious, otherworldly admirer was out there, hidden in the undulating cerulean water.
She shifted the weight of the metal canister to her left arm and picked her way through a patch of rocky ground to the lower beach. It was a familiar place, little changed by the passage of time. The place she and Macy, her best friend since childhood, had called their own — before a tragic accident had taken the life of Macy’s sister.
After that, Macy refused to go near the water. Aymee had little reason to go to the sea without her friend.
Now, the ocean sang to her, and she counted the days between these exchanges. It was worth the wait just to get little glimpses of him.
She’d met Arkon only once, three months earlier. Their encounter had been hurried, and Arkon remained hidden throughout — except for the fleeting moment during which he’d shown her his face. She’d painted his violet eyes, with their alien pupils, many times since, had seen them in her dreams, but it wasn’t enough. She longed for him, not his memory.
The wind flipped her hair into her face. She tucked it back and glanced up at the rock formation ahead. As a child, it had reminded Aymee of a krull, an animal native to the nearby jungle. They were tall, powerful beasts with long necks, slender horns, and purple fur. Stone stretched from the seaside cliffs here and dipped into the water, resembling a krull with its head lowered to drink.
Few townsfolk came to this beach, and fewer still to this part of it. That made it an ideal location for these supply exchanges.
A metallic glint caught Aymee’s eye as she approached the cliffs. A second container sat nestled amidst the rocks. With anticipation thrumming through her limbs, she quickened her steps.
Settling onto her knees, she stood her canister in the sand beside her, and lifted Arkon’s container from the recess in the cliffside. Something rattled inside.
Warmth blossomed across her chest.
She tucked her canister in the empty space, gathered the container Arkon had left, and stood.
The loose material of her blouse and skirt fluttered around her as she dragged her gaze over the restless, sparkling waves. He was out there, waiting, but she’d never spot him unless he wanted to be seen.
Why didn’t he approach her? Why did he hide from her?
Releasing a wistful sigh, she went inland, giving the ocean — and Arkon — her back. She paused near a rock and slipped her sandals on before resuming her walk. Soon, soft sand gave way to dirt and vegetation. The briny scent of the sea mingled with the smell of plants and earth.
She followed the footpath leading back to town for fifteen or twenty meters before stepping off. Weaving through tall, vibrant indigo capeweed flowers, large, green-and-violet-leafed bushes, and tangled vines of crimson creeper, she placed her container down and knelt near the edge of the cliff.
Her heart raced as she reached forward and parted the vegetation in front of her.
The beach stretched out in either direction below her; to the right, it snaked along the coastline, narrowing into a pale ribbon with distance. To her left, it widened until it hit the bulge in the cliffs that ended in the krull-rock, where the strand passed beneath the hollow in the formation.
While the beach was finite, the ocean stretched into infinity, incomprehensibly large. The water darkened to navy blue and then to midnight as it neared the horizon. The evening sun would be swallowed by the sea within a few hours. Its soft orange glow met the blue of the sky in the beginning of a nightly struggle against encroaching darkness.
It was beautiful, and that beauty would only intensify as sunset neared. But it couldn’t hold her attention now.
“I know you’re there, Arkon,” Aymee mumbled, sweeping her eyes over the rolling surf. Beads of sweat trickled between her breasts and down her back, the humid air made more suffocating by the vegetation around her.
Finally, her waiting paid off.
The incoming waves broke around a vague shape. A moment later, the form gained definition — Arkon’s leanly-muscled arms and broad shoulders emerged, followed by his tapering torso, and finally…his tentacles.
“There you are,” she whispered.
He grew more distinct as the water retreated and he moved inland. His skin changed to match the sand, but his camouflage was imperfect in open air and direct sunlight. She wished he’d revert to his natural color — the loveliest blue-gray she’d ever seen — but understood why he didn’t.
There was no telling how the people of The Watch would react if they knew a kraken came ashore so close to their town once a week. The townsfolk gossiped incessantly about the night Jax — one of Arkon’s kind — had broken free of a holding tank in the warehouse and escaped into the darkness of the sea with Macy. That only a handful of people truly knew what’d happened didn’t stop anyone from talking.
Most were unable or unwilling to understand that Macy had chosen to go with Jax. All they’d seen was a monster. If only they knew of the intelligence, beauty, and prowess Aymee had witnessed. Would it have changed their minds, or instilled more fear in them?
It didn’t matter. There was no reason to call unnecessary attention to the current arrangement.
Arkon stopped at the cliffside. He twisted, checking his surroundings.
She eased back, all
owing the vegetation to close slightly, but she couldn’t look away from him. Though they were impossible to see from this distance, her imagination filled in the rich violet of his eyes.
He turned back to the cliff and pulled the canister from the recess. Removing the lid, he reached inside the container and withdrew a rolled-up piece of paper, dangling it by the string around its middle.
It was a painting she’d done for him of the nighttime jungle.
Her heart thudded; she’d never cared much about what people thought of her art one way or another, though she couldn’t deny her satisfaction at bringing smiles to people’s faces. Her friends’ opinions mattered, but Macy and Camrin were always kind.
She found herself wanting Arkon to like her painting with all her heart. She’d wanted to give him a little piece of the land to call his own, but she couldn’t deny that she’d given a tiny bit of herself in the process.
Smiling broadly, Arkon returned the painting and resealed the container.
Aymee watched him return to the sea. Though it should have appeared awkward or unsteady, there was a strange grace to the way he moved on land. Within a few seconds, he disappeared in the waves.
Sitting back on her heels, Aymee dropped her hands, allowing the vegetation to close. She twisted around, dragged over the nearby canister, and removed the lid.
Within were three folded pieces of paper — one addressed to Aymee, one to Camrin, and one to Macy’s parents. She reached inside and shifted the papers. Her fingers brushed over something small, hard, and smooth.
Aymee picked up the rock and held it in her palm. It was dark gray, the edges rounded. Thin, wavy lines, flowing like ocean waves, had been carved over its entirety.
She grinned and closed her fingers around it, pressing her hand to her chest. When she’d received the first such stone in their first exchange, weeks ago, she’d thought it a gift from Macy. But Macy said she hadn’t sent it when Aymee asked in their following correspondence.
The stones were from Arkon.
Aymee’s first glimpse of a kraken — Jax in his holding tank — had been breathtaking. The kraken were part human and part other, and wholly fascinating. She hadn’t feared him, especially after Macy had spoken about her relationship with Jax.
Aymee had been intrigued. She hadn’t thought it possible to be more enraptured…until Arkon.
One look into his entrancing, alien eyes, and her fascination had deepened into something more like obsession.
For the first time in her life, Aymee had been envious of her friend. Macy deserved happiness, but Aymee wanted that same happiness, that freedom, that…love. The guilt that followed her jealousy hadn’t assuaged her desires.
Lowering her hand, she examined the stone again. They were gifts, perhaps even courting gifts, but why hadn’t he come to her? Why did he always hide until she was out of sight?
“Stop being so mopey.” She sighed, set the rock in the canister, and replaced the lid.
Rising, she brushed off her legs and skirt, tucked the container under her arm, and returned to the footpath. She followed it through a dense swath of shady, cloying jungle, grateful for the wider dirt road it led to when she emerged.
Sheep and cattle grazed in the fields and pastures on either side of the road, feeding on a purple and green mix of Earth and Halorian grass. She walked toward town without paying much attention to the animals; their lowing and bleating was part of the ambience, mingling with the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind and the ocean crashing ceaselessly against the shore.
She didn’t give in to the brief but powerful urge to return to the beach.
The first part of The Watch to come into view — as always — was the lighthouse perched high on the promontory. Now that the wet season had come, the light was on more frequently, alerting townsfolk and fishermen of the sudden storms that were so common this time of year.
As she crested the final rise leading into town, the other buildings became visible — dwellings crafted of metal, concrete, and wood, many of them having stood since the first colonists touched down on Halora.
This was home.
And yet…
With Macy gone, Aymee felt disconnected from the people here — even from her parents and her only other close friend, Camrin. They encouraged her well enough when it came to her art, but none of them truly understood the compulsion to create, the joy of expression. The townsfolk appreciated her works, but most seemed to think her time would be better spent on more practical pursuits.
As though spending the majority of her days tending to their ailments wasn’t contribution enough.
She huffed, blowing her curls out of her face.
She wouldn’t give it up.
The smell of bread drifted to Aymee on the breeze as she approached her house. Unlike many of the other buildings, this one was adorned with brightly-colored paint — flowers of all shades, animals and birds, even a simplified portrait of Aymee and her parents she’d painted when she was young.
They hadn’t minded her using the house as a canvas. Her mother, Jeanette, had even encouraged her to decorate the interior walls.
Opening the door, Aymee stepped inside and inhaled the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread.
“Mom?”
“In here!” Jeanette called from the kitchen.
“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” Aymee hurried to her room, which had been added as an extension to the original building sometime in the past.
The room wasn’t large — her single bed was shoved into one corner, leaving room for a small nightstand, a dresser, and a table cluttered with brushes, papers, bottles of paint, and an easel.
Setting the canister on her bed, she opened it and plucked out the stone. She ran her fingertips over its tiny carvings before adding it to the jar on her nightstand, which held the other gifts he’d given her — each stone a different size, shape, and color, and each with a unique pattern etched into it.
After removing the folded letters from within, she sealed the container and stood it on the floor against the wall to await the next exchange.
Seven long days to go.
“From Macy?” Jeanette asked from the doorway.
Aymee turned toward her mother. Jeanette’s hair, skin, and eyes were darker than Aymee’s, but the resemblance between them was clear; her youthful spark and natural beauty made them look more like sisters than mother and daughter.
In that moment, Aymee was overcome with thankfulness — her parents’ easy demeanors meant she didn’t have to keep these secrets from them. She’d always been close to her mother, and she’d adored her father since her earliest memories. He’d never pushed her into the family business; his work as the town’s doctor had fascinated her from a young age, and she’d been the one to start following him and her brother to the clinic every day to learn all she could.
When their medical scans had revealed Macy was pregnant with Jax’s child, it had been Aymee’s father, Kent, who made sure there’d be no record of it for the other townsfolk to find. Somehow, though it seemed impossible, Aymee loved him a little more that day.
“Yeah.” Aymee smiled. “She didn’t write back last week, which isn’t like her.”
“I’m sure her parents are eager to hear from her then, too.” Jeanette’s returned smile quickly faded. “There are some strangers here from Fort Culver. They’ve asked the town council to hold a meeting this evening.”
Aymee’s stomach knotted with unease. “Why?”
“They haven’t said anything yet. I was waiting for you to get home, so we could go together. Your father’s already there waiting for us.” Jeanette dipped her chin, indicating the letters in Aymee’s hand. “You can bring those. I’m sure Camrin and the Sinclairs will be there.”
“How long have these strangers been here? I hadn’t heard anything about it until now.” Aymee removed the letter with her name and tucked it beneath the jar of rocks.
“They came into town when you were on your wa
lk.”
“And they’ve already got a meeting set up?”
“You know as much as I do at this point.”
“Okay.” Aymee took a deep, steadying breath. There was no reason to be anxious. Strangers came into town from time to time; it was just a little variety sprinkled into the everyday routine. “Let’s go.”
They went outside and walked toward the town hall side-by-side. Many more townsfolk were emerging from their homes and heading the same direction.
“Evening Jeanette. Hi Aymee!” Maris Everett called as she approached. She was a few years older than Aymee, and, though they’d lived next door to one another all their lives, they’d never been more than acquaintances.
“Hello, Maris,” Jeanette said. “Thank you again for the muffins this morning. I had to chase Kent out the kitchen when he tried to come back for a third within ten minutes of you dropping them off.”
Maris laughed. “It was the least I could do after what he and Aymee did for my James.”
“How is he?” Aymee asked.
“Better. He’s still in a lot of pain, and he won’t be back to work for a while, but thanks to you two he still has both feet — even if he’s short a few toes.” The woman’s smile was at once grateful and sorrowful as she shook her head. “I don’t know what we would’ve done otherwise, and if he hadn’t…”
“I’m glad they got him to us in time. Vorix have fast-working venom,” Aymee said. James had been extremely lucky. Vorix — long-bodied, rough-skinned creatures that used several sets of short, clawed legs to climb trees — injected deadly venom with their breakaway fangs. Had it not been for James’s heavy-duty footwear, the fang would have been embedded in his foot and continued pumping poison into his bloodstream.
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