Chapter 182
The guard arrives with a curt knock, the door creaking open just enough for his head to peer through. He says nothing, just gestures for me to follow. Cora gives me a pointed look—one that says, Stay sharp. I nod and stand, smoothing the silk of my dress even though the motion makes me feel like I’m preparing for a pageant I never agreed to enter.
The journey through the palace feels endless. The guard leads me through winding corridors of dark stone illuminated by bioluminescent fixtures embedded into the walls. The walls seem to pulse faintly, the glow of the lights reflected in the veins of some mineral embedded deep within the stone.
I feel the weight of the ocean pressing down, suffocating in its vastness, as though the palace itself knows I don’t belong here. By the time we reach the meeting place, my nerves are frayed, my breath shallow.
Kota is already waiting. He’s leaning casually against the entrance to what appears to be an undersea garden, a smirk playing on his lips. His indigo hair floats lazily around his sharp features, and his toned physique is on full display beneath a light cloak of ferns and beads. He straightens when he sees me, his eyes raking over me with unabashed interest, making no attempt to hide his approval.
“You look exquisite,” he says smoothly, stepping forward. His voice is soft but carries a weight of expectation. He doesn’t wait for me to respond before he takes my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles in a manner that feels more predatory than respectful.
“Thank you,” I say stiffly, withdrawing my hand as soon as I can without being obvious. I keep my gaze level, unwilling to give him any sense of power over me.
“Come,” he says, gesturing to the garden. “I’ve prepared something special for you.”
The garden is… breathtaking. It’s a sprawling collection of sunken debris that the ocean has reclaimed. Coral blooms across the skeletal remains of ships, fish dart through the hollowed-out frames of planes, and seaweed sways in the current, creating an otherworldly forest. The remnants of humanity’s creations, consumed and transformed by the ocean, feel both beautiful and haunting. Alive and eerily still.
But it’s the veins of Darklite running through the rocks that catch my attention. They pulse faintly, their unnatural glow casting an eerie light over everything. The sight of them sets my teeth on edge, a primal instinct warning me of their corruption.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Kota says, his voice full of pride. He gestures widely, as though he’s presenting a gift he’s confident will win me over.
“It’s certainly something,” I reply, my voice carefully neutral. My gaze lingers on the Darklite, unease curling in my gut.
Kota doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy talking about himself. He launches into a litany of his accolades, detailing his victories in the Pit, his contributions to Ao’s expansion, and his role in solidifying their position among the Clans. His words go in one ear and out the other, a tide of arrogance that I let roll past without comment. He’s clearly practiced at this, weaving his narrative of self-importance to batter his audience into submission.
Me Prince. You inferior.
Then we come to the statue garden.
It’s a collection of stone figures, so lifelike they seem as though they might breathe if only given the chance. Men, women, children—all frozen in various poses of fear, sorrow, or defiance. The sight sends a chill down my spine, the raw emotion captured in the stone almost too real to bear. I force myself to keep my face neutral, though every instinct screams at me to leave.
Kota’s tone shifts as he turns to me. “Tell me, Phoebe,” he says, his voice low and intimate. “Do you have a man?”
I think of Rhea’s and Cora’s warnings, the subtle hints they’d dropped about how precarious my position here truly is. But the thought of denying Wake—of erasing him from this conversation—makes me sick.
“I am mated,” I say firmly, meeting his gaze.
For a moment, Kota’s expression goes blank. It’s as though I’ve spoken a language he doesn’t understand. Then his usual smarmy demeanor returns, and he smiles. “A minor setback,” he says lightly.
“My mate isn’t a setback,” I snap. “And I’m not entertaining this ego trip of yours any longer.”
Kota’s smile doesn’t falter. Instead, he reaches for something wrapped around his wrist—a glowing necklace of intricate design. He holds it out to me, his eyes glittering with something I can’t quite place.
“Humor me one last time,” he says. “Wear it.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I reply, taking a step back. “I’d like to return to my chamber.”
Kota’s smile tightens, but his tone remains smooth. “Please. Indulge me. It’s my final fancy.”
Reluctantly, I sigh and lift my hair, allowing him to clasp the necklace around my throat. The moment the clasp clicks into place, an icy void spreads from the pendant, seeping into my skin. The cold moves through muscle and bone, sinking into the very core of me.
My breath becomes labored, each inhale a struggle. “What…what have you done to me?” I pant, my hands clawing at the necklace. But my movements are sluggish, my muscles refusing to obey.
I look down at myself and see the horror unfolding. Grey stone is spreading from the pendant, consuming my skin, enveloping me inch by inch. My heart pounds as I glance around the garden, the realization slamming into me with sickening clarity.
The statues. They’re people.
“Why…are you…doing this?” I gasp, my voice barely audible.
Kota’s calm demeanor remains unshaken. “My father’s work is important,” he says matter-of-factly. “As Tangaroa’s future Heir, I am invested in seeing it come to fruition.”
“Why…me?” I manage, though the effort to speak feels monumental.
Kota’s smirk deepens. “What other reason than politics? Heir to Twilight or not, your blood is clearly strong. If you are not Electra’s Heir, then you and I will make the Heir together. Either way, I get what I want.”
I blink, the action nearly impossible as the stone covers two-thirds of my body. “I can’t…give you an Heir…while mated,” I rasp.
Kota’s smile is slow and smug. “On the contrary,” he says. “You couldn’t give me an Heir until you were mated. The connection opens your womb…to anyone. Did your mate not tell you this?”
I remain silent, horrified beyond words.
Kota sighs dramatically. “What an unrefined male,” he says. “To not even know the ways of a woman’s body.”
He runs his hands over my stone ribs, hips, and breasts, his touch revolting. “I was born to be a warrior King,” he murmurs. “Not a barbarian like that Abyssinian mongrel. I will treat you with all the dignity and grace a woman of your status deserves.”
He leans down and presses a long, slow kiss to my stone lips. I want to claw his throat out, to tear him apart, but I’m trapped, my body betraying me.
Kota abruptly steps back, observing me with a smug expression. “You’ve maybe five minutes left,” he says casually. “When you’re finished, the Abyssinian is next. So, what is your answer?”
I want to scream for Wake, to warn him about these maniacs, but the stone is choking me, silencing me. With the last of my strength, I give the barest nod.
Kota’s smirk widens as he removes the necklace from my throat. Instantly, the pressure eases and warmth floods back into my body. I collapse, gasping for air, but I refuse to show weakness.
Kota crouches, tipping my chin up with a finger. “I’m very glad we were able to come to an arrangement,” he says teasingly.
I growl through gritted teeth. “I am not the one you’ll have to answer to for this.”
His smile grows sharper. “The Abyssinian will be dealt with in the only way savages understand.”
Then he presses a hard, possessive kiss to my lips, stands, and walks away, leaving me reeling among the almost-dead.
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