The subject of Ksenia was a difficult one for the inky brute to manage. In spite of his composure, there was a torrid anger that sat like an ember in his gut. The leviathan was nearly grateful that his youngest sibling was nearly incapable of speaking, or he would have found himself throwing hateful words at the pallid boy instead of to their witch of a sister. It was she who deserved his rage; she had earned enough of it, and yet there was a substantial amount that waged war inside of him. The leviathan would not look kindly on her, should she arrive at his borders. Something spoke to him and settled as a warning for what was to come. He knew that he could not rely on all of the Cairn children to stand beside him, but having one was more than he would have hoped for.
 
Skellige did not possess the same charisma and skilled manipulation that Ksenia did. He could not hope to speak as eloquently as she, or walk with the grace of a true queen. But the colorless woman had been groomed for her role, and so he could attribute many of her skills to this alone. Nevertheless, there did not seem to be a day that passed where the wraith did not question his true fate. Were he to have simply allowed their games unfold and taken his seat as a pawn, the sea king would have found himself among the fellow dredge of the islands. He would have been able to live there and prosper on their lands, fending off the surrounding wolves so that his family would maintain the honor of holding Warsaw. If only he had been as obedient as the others, there would have been no strife. But Skellige could not hold back the hatred he felt for his littermate. His wishes were to see her to an end. He would gift her skull to the Witch Doctor and would wear her pelt atop his head like a pale crown.
 
Seeing Szymon react in a manner that spoke of abuse, the brute frowned at him. It was wise to shy away from the leviathan when he found himself troubled by his moods. The great inky beast was capable of bringing himself to a calmer state of being. Instead of lashing out at the younger Cairn, he swallowed the bile that had risen in the back of his throat and forced himself to center on their tasks. With the support that he had found and the growth of their small group, Skellige was prepared to make his claim. Deirdre had found a way to accept his alliance, and the coalition brought a strange sense of pleasure to the brute.
 
Drawing his dark gaze toward his pallid sibling, the leviathan breathed steadily. “We have much to do, Szymon,” he reflected aloud. “I will ask that in the coming days, you assist in marking the borders of the bay. Seek the Witch Doctor for assistance, or to find out if she may need you to gather herbs. She’s… peculiar, but the sea has already spoken their intentions for her.” The instructions were simple and there were no doubts about Szymon’s capabilities in performing the tasks. Skellige knew that his role there would be monumental if they were to succeed.