A sudden, weak snort echoed through the crystalline hall.
It didn't come from the merfolk warriors, nor from the terrified refugees hovering in their aquatic bubbles. It came from Marcus's arms.
Elara had finally stirred. Her golden eyes were still heavy with exhaustion, her skin pale and streaked with dried blood, but as she took in the scene—Kyle kneeling on the pearl floor, wrapped in liquid cuffs, with an aquatic queen leaning inches from his mouth—a ragged, breathless laugh burst out of her chest.
"Oh... oh, wow," Elara rasped, her voice raspy as she coughed, leaning heavily against Marcus's shoulder while a weak, teasing grin spread across her lips. "I take a nap for an hour, Conner... and you've already found yourself a royal fiancee? Is this part of your grand strategy? Marrying every high-tier entity on Planet Kraken?"
Kyle shot her a flat, deadly glare sideways. "Elara. Shut up."
