The Kraken's Sacrifice (A Deal With a Demon #2)(4)

They stop short and tilt their head to the side. “Well, damn. Duty calls.” They slip their arm from mine and squeeze my shoulder. “It was a delight talking with you, Catalina. Take that door, and it should lead you back to your room.”

“What door?” I turn to look where they point. Wait a minute. I frown. “There wasn’t a door there a few seconds ago.” I’m not the most observant person, but I would have noticed a door. Especially since the damned hallway has been completely free of them for the duration of our walk.

“The castle shifts as it pleases.” They lift their voice. “Please see her back safely.”

A chill runs down my spine. “The castle is sentient?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” They shrug. “Doesn’t hurt to be polite in any case.” They turn and open a door that definitely wasn’t there a second ago. I catch sight of a short hallway ending in a half-open door.

Azazel’s low voice carries down the hall. “Get in here, Ramanu.”

Ramanu holds up a single finger to their lips and closes the door softly, leaving me alone. I look up and down my hallway. It’s much the same as it’s been since we started walking. I turn back to the door they went through and sigh.

It’s gone.

The other door really is the only option. If things are moving tonight, then I guess I should put on my best behavior and play obedient human. I’m honestly not sure what that looks like, but I can try.

I grip the door and inhale slowly. “Thanks for letting me out.” Like Ramanu said, it doesn’t hurt to be polite.

The door doesn’t lead back into my room, though. I step into another hallway. This one feels more official, though I don’t know if that’s the right word. The one Ramanu and I walked in was very nice, but the walls were mostly plain and the stone was uncovered, whereas thick carpet runs the length of this one. There are paintings here too. They’re big and abstract, but the colors draw me in all the same. I could spend hours looking at them.

Best not to.

I keep moving. I have a feeling of being watched, but when I look over my shoulder, there’s no one there. Odd. The hallway takes a turn, and I stop short. Stone steps descend into shadows. “Castle, I was nice to you. Please don’t lead me into a murder basement.”

There’s no answer, but I didn’t really expect one. I give one last look around, but no doors have magically appeared. Apparently it doesn’t matter that I didn’t take stairs to get to this point, because I’m taking stairs now.

“Here goes nothing.”

I descend for a long time. A long time. Until my thighs start to shake and I’m wondering if I should have spent more time in the gym. I don’t hate the gym, but it’s very hard to be surrounded by all those hard and thin bodies when mine is so very average. Not to mention I just flat-out forget to go for weeks—sometimes months—at a time.

“You’re mad at me, Castle. Aren’t you?” I can’t decide if it’s particularly unhinged to be talking to a magical castle or just smart. “You’ve shown me the error of my ways. I’m very sorry for whatever I’ve done and I’ll be good until the auction or whatever is going on. Please take me back to my room.”

There’s no response. Of course there isn’t.

I drag in a breath and keep going. I’m at the point where I’m considering using my dress as a sled and seeing if it’s possible to slide down the damned stairs when I turn a corner and reach the bottom.

It’s only then that I see the tunnel and the canal running through it. Or maybe it’s called something else, but that’s the first word that pops into my head. I take a step closer. Now that I’m not fighting for breath and focusing on my shaking thighs, I recognize the scent in the air.

Salt water.

“Why would you have a canal of salt water?” I murmur. Surely it would make more sense to bring fresh water into the city? But then again, this is a magic realm with a magic castle, so maybe they have some other purpose for this tunnel.

That doesn’t explain why the castle brought me here, though.

I look up at the dark curve of stone overhead and frown. “I’m certain this is not the way back to my room.”

A sound in the water has me turning in time to see ripples on the surface . . . as if something large is swimming toward me. Fast. I stumble back a step. “Oh god, there’s monsters down here, aren’t there? You fed me to monsters after I was nice to you!”

But the being who rises from the water isn’t a monster. Or isn’t entirely a monster. They’re broad with blue-gray skin that is strangely attractive. Also . . . “You have tentacles.”

They stop short. Or their human parts—a well-defined torso and muscled arms and a face with a very cold expression on it—stop short. The tentacles that seem to pass for hair slither around their shoulders, and the bottom half of their body—all tentacles—shifts and lashes out.

“Who are you? A welcome party?” They say it with a sneer of derision. “A single human to meet a king?”

A . . . king.

I’ve never met a king before. Then again, I’ve never met a fish-man made of half tentacles either. The smart thing to do is most likely to run, but when presented with the smart thing and the reckless thing, there’s really only one option for me.