Keenan didn’t flinch. He didn’t struggle against Caspian’s iron grip, nor did he attempt to break the hold.
The exiled prince simply looked down at the furious King, his eyes completely devoid of fear. A terrifying, predatory calm settled over Keenan’s face.
"Brother," Keenan murmured, his gravelly voice dropping into a deadly, chilling octave that vibrated against the freezing currents. "You clearly don’t want to fight ."
It was a silent, absolute warning.
Caspian’s jaw locked. His fangs remained bared, his chest heaving as the boiling water swirled around them. Every draconic, territorial instinct scread at him to tear the exile apart for daring to cross paths with his mate.
But as Caspian stared into the bottomless red abyss of his brother’s eyes, a cold, brutal wave of logic finally pierced through his red-hot jealousy.
They were both undeniably powerful. Caspian was the reigning King, fueled by the ancient magic of the Deep Spires and the absolute authority of the crown. But Keenan... Keenan had been stripped of everything. He had spent an entire century banished to the Outer Wastes, surviving in a pitch-black, freezing graveyard filled with the most nightmarish, colossal leviathans the ocean had ever birthed.
Keenan’s body was a tapestry of horrific scars. His obsidian scales were thicker, harder, and entirely adapted to a life of perpetual, rciless slaughter. If they engaged in a bloody, no-holds-barred battle to the death right here in the dark, Caspian was very, very sure he could not survive it. Keenan had absolutely nothing to lose; Caspian had a son to raise and a mate to win back. He could not afford to die in the Wastes.
With agonizing effort of sheer willpower, Caspian forced his feral beast to stand down.
He gritted his teeth so hard they ached, slowly, deliberately uncurling his webbed fingers from his brother’s neck. He pushed himself back just a fraction, the boiling water around them beginning to cool.
"What do you want with her?" Caspian demanded, his voice trembling with the sheer force of his suppressed rage. "Tell the truth, Keenan. What do you want to do with my mate?"
Keenan looked at Caspian’s white-knuckled fists and let out a soft, amused huff. Slowly, the exiled prince raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"I want absolutely nothing to do with her, Caspian," Keenan stated truthfully, his eyes locking onto his brother’s to convey his absolute sincerity. "I have no designs on your little Surface-dweller. She was almost eaten by Leviathans. I saved her twice because it amused to see a fragile land creature surviving the abyss. That is all. I didn’t steal her, and I certainly don’t want to keep her."
Caspian stared at him for a long, agonizing second, searching his brother’s face for any trace of deception.
Finding none, Caspian let out a massive, shuddering sigh of relief. His broad shoulders slumped, the oppressive, terrifying tension finally bleeding out of his fra. He ran a trembling hand through his stark white, silvery hair, the thought of Roxy being safe, even if it was by Keenan’s hand, soothing the frantic beast in his chest.
Keenan lowered his hand, the rusted chains clinking softly as he crossed his massive arms over his chest. He tilted his head, studying the exhausted, emotionally shattered rman King before him.
"Now that your panic has subsided," Keenan rasped, his tone shifting from amused to sharply investigative. "Why don’t you tell what really brought you down here to my graveyard? You reek of desperation, little brother. You swam into the Wastes looking like a male who is about to throw himself into a volcanic vent. Why?"
Caspian took a deep, steadying breath. The freezing water filled his lungs, grounding him. He looked at the exiled prince, pushing aside the centuries of bad blood, betrayal, and violence that stood between them.
He cut to the chase imdiately.
"I want you to rule the Spires," Caspian declared, his voice ringing with absolute, unwavering certainty.
He was sure his brother would be leaping in Joy from the proposal, but instead...
The silence that followed was so profound it felt as though the entire ocean had stopped moving. The distant, groaning shifts of the tectonic plates seed to freeze.
Keenan stared at Caspian. The mocking, arrogant smirk completely vanished from his face. For a mont, the exiled prince looked entirely taken aback, as if Caspian had just suggested they drain the ocean.
Then, Keenan let out a short, harsh scoff, shaking his head.
"No," Keenan replied flatly, turning his massive body away. "I am not interested."
Caspian blinked, utterly baffled by the imdiate dismissal.
"Not interested?" Caspian echoed, swimming forward to block his brother’s path. "Keenan, you committed high treason for that throne! You ripped the eastern coral wards apart and started a civil war because you believed the crown was your birthright! I am literally swimming down here to hand it to you on a silver platter, and you say you are not interested?"
"I said what I said," Keenan growled, his eyes darkening. "Take your crown and leave, Caspian."
"Why?!" Caspian pressed, his desperation flaring again. "Give one good reason why you won’t take it! You were bred for the throne, Keenan. You have the raw power to command the leviathans, and you have the absolute ruthlessness required to keep the Spires safe."
Caspian swam closer, his hands pleading. "Mother knows how capable you are. She knows you were ant to rule. And Nimue... Nimue wants you back. She helped sneak out of the royal vaults just so I could find you. The kingdom needs a strong, unyielding King, Keenan."
"The kingdom has a King," Keenan snapped, a low, dangerous warning vibrating in the water around him.
"Not anymore!" Caspian argued fiercely, completely refusing to back down. "I am leaving, Keenan! I cannot stay in the dark. I am taking Zale, and I am finding a way to transmute my biology so I can walk on the Surface with my mate. The Spires will be entirely vulnerable! If you don’t take the throne, the trench lords will tear the kingdom apart the second I am gone. You are the only one who can hold the abyssal borders!"
He reached out, trying to grab his brother’s shoulder, desperate to nudge him, to force him to see the logic and change his decision. "Please, Keenan. Our family needs—"
"I SAID NO!"
The explosion of raw, abyssal magic was catastrophic.
Keenan didn’t just shout; he unleashed a century of condensed, agonizing trauma directly into the freezing water. The shockwave blasted Caspian backward, sending the rman King tumbling through the dark until he violently collided with the massive ribcage of a dead leviathan.
Caspian groaned, his vision swimming as he looked up.
Keenan was a terrifying sight. The exiled prince had surged forward, his obsidian scales flared outward like jagged blades.
His hands were curled into massive, lethal fists, and he bared his long, razor-sharp claws, entirely prepared to shred anything that ca within his reach. His eyes were wide, manic, and haunted by ghosts that Caspian could not even begin to comprehend.
The throne wasn’t a prize to Keenan anymore.
Keenan snarled, his fangs bared, his chest heaving violently.
"If you don’t want to kill you like I killed father," Keenan roared, his chest heaving with bated breaths, "then you will get out of my sight this instant!"
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