Page 24 of Taken By the Leviathan King

“You are... magnificent,” he rumbles from across the room, where he studies tactical maps with Zorath. The deep timbre of his voice sends an involuntary shiver down my spine.

“Save the flattery,” I reply, though warmth spreads across my cheeks. “We have more pressing concerns.”

Zorath clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with our charged exchanges. The loyal advisor has been on edge since our return from the Heart, alternating between reverent bows in my direction and worried glances at the war table.

“Rynor’s forces have taken the eastern ridge,” he reports, gesturing to a three-dimensional projection of underwater territories. “His corruption spreads. Three more warrior pods have fallen under his influence.”

I approach the table, studying the map. Something nags at me—a pattern in Rynor’s movements that seems oddly familiar. “These attacks aren’t random. He’s systematically cutting off access points to the Heart while gathering resources.” I trace a finger along a deep trench. “But why take this outpost? It holds no strategic value for an assault on the Heart.”

Nira, who has been silently mixing healing salves in the corner, looks up sharply. “That’s where they took Bethra. My sister.”

The healer’s hands tremble slightly as all eyes turn to her. In the days I’ve known her, I’ve never seen the composed healer show such vulnerability.

“Your sister?” Krak’zol’s brow furrows. “You never mentioned she was captured.”

“Because I was told not to burden the king with personal matters during wartime,” Nira replies, her eyes downcast. “Bethra was studying ancient healing techniques in the eastern sanctuaries when Rynor’s forces took the ridge. She’s been his prisoner for three cycles now.”

The implications hit me immediately. “That’s why you’ve been helping me so readily. You’re hoping we’ll rescue her.”

Nira meets my gaze, unashamed. “She’s my only family. And now she’s held by a monster who twists minds to his will.”

I turn to Krak’zol, whose expression has hardened into something unreadable. I don’t need our bond to know what he’s thinking—a rescue mission is too risky, too personal, when the fate of kingdoms hangs in the balance.

“We need to get her out,” I say before he can object.

“Imoogeen.” His voice carries a warning. “Rynor would expect such sentiment. It could be a trap.”

“It’s not just sentiment.” I step closer to him, lowering my voice. “Think strategically. Nira and Zorath are your most loyal advisors. Rescuing Bethra secures their complete devotion. Plus, a prisoner from Rynor’s inner sanctum could provide critical intelligence about his plans for the Heart.”

I watch the calculations play out behind his silver eyes. He’s weighing risks against potential rewards, the soldier in him battling with the protective instinct that’s grown stronger since our bonding.

“You’ve been queen for less than a day,” he finally says, “and already you’re commanding rescue missions into enemy territory.”

“Is that a yes?” I raise an eyebrow.

A low rumble emanates from his chest—something between a growl and a laugh. “It’s an acknowledgment that arguing with you would waste valuable time.”

Zorath looks between us, clearly trying to hide his surprise at Krak’zol’s acquiescence. “The fortress is heavily guarded, my king. Rynor’s corrupted warriors patrol in overlapping patterns, and the waters surrounding it are laced with toxic elements that would weaken even your royal guard.”

“Then we don’t take the royal guard,” I say. “Just us. Krak’zol and I.”

“Absolutely not,” Zorath protests. “The king cannot risk—”

“The king,” Krak’zol interrupts, “will decide what risks are acceptable.” His eyes haven’t left mine. “You believe we can infiltrate undetected?”

I nod. “Our bond gives us an advantage. We can communicate silently, coordinate without signals that might alert his guards.” I turn back to the map. “Besides, two can move more quietly than an army.”

The plan comes together quickly. Nira provides detailed information about the fortress layout—she’d been there many times to visit her sister before Rynor’s betrayal. Zorath reluctantly offers intelligence on patrol patterns and guard rotations.

As we prepare to depart, Krak’zol draws me aside. From a ceremonial chest, he retrieves a small blade unlike any I’ve seen—its edge glimmers with an otherworldly blue light that intensifies as I reach for it.

“It’s made from heartstone,” he explains, placing it in my palm. “Rare, even among my kind. It responds to your energy signature now that you’re bonded to the Heart.”

I test its weight, feeling an odd resonance as I grip the hilt. “It feels... alive.”

“In a way, it is. It will always find its way back to you.” His massive hand closes over mine. “Like I would.”

The raw honesty in his voice catches me off guard. Before I can respond, he leans down, pressing his forehead against mine in a gesture that feels more intimate than any kiss.

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