L ucien Skurk was nothing more than a damn pirate. A crook who’d been raised in the royal city, even convinced me as boys we were like minds
with our love of the sea. My fault rested in that I’d believed him. A mistake which led to a portion of the royal treasury being robbed and a swift vessel commandeered into the deep seas.
I’d warned the bastard. Touch another isle, batter another woman, gut another man unprovoked, and it would be his head under my blade.
By the time I reached the helm, my leg burned in a bite of pain, but a giddy delight sparked in my chest. Lucien duped a boy king once, but his lives were up.
Larsson leaned over the rail of the quarterdeck. “Cel got word it’s a simple raid. Think it’s worth the time and blood to divert? Lucien’s a pest, but he’s hardly a threat to you.”
My grip tightened on the handles of the helm. “The bastard was given a warning, and it was one too many. He’s to be a corpse by sundown.”
“As you say.” Larsson flashed his teeth and tipped the brim of his hat, ducking away onto the main deck.
“What’s going on?”
Dammit. In all my anger, I’d dropped Livia’s hand and left her to weave her way through the bustle of the crew. Cheeks flushed pink from the chill of the breeze, Livia clung to a rope and lifted her gaze to the horizon.
She looked . . . like she belonged here, beside me, an open sea before
us. is.”
I tore my gaze away. “We’re off to make a man much deader than he
“Gods.” She grimaced. “The way you speak, it’s as if killing is nothing.
Does it not change you?”
I’d never forget my first kill. “Better to do the killing than be killed.”
Commands ran down the ranks of the crew, every position sounding off, until I waved one palm and a thick, damp breeze rose from the surf, filling the sails with a loud snap.
The ship hardly made a groan as it yielded to my hold and aimed the bow out of the walls of the white cliffs, reeling back toward the small island village of Skondell. It wasn’t a great distance, and with the seas under my command it would be a swift arrival.
Folk there kept to themselves, lived humble, nearly primitive lives, and sold the rare tide lotus throughout the kingdom. The black satin petals were rife in pain relieving properties, often used during childbirth.
But mishandled, the lotus was vicious.
Stripped of the petals, the lotus stem and leaves became a powerful hallucinogen. One that left the victim wallowing in nightmarish madness for a full day and night with the smallest dose. Traded to the right, ill- intentioned buyers, and the lotuses became a weapon.
The people of Skondell had harvested the lotus blossoms for centuries, a contribution made for the benefit of the kingdom in exchange for the freedom to live apart, unbothered.
To pick Skondell as a raiding point and breach royal amnesty proclamations was Lucien’s way of cock-measuring. A sort of twisted test to see if the king might act against him. He would know soon enough.
With both hands on the helm, I closed my eyes. The hum was low, a bare whisper on the wind, but it was enough to beckon the tides to serve in our favor.
Poison or health lived in my veins, but so did the sea. The honor of each king who sat atop the throne of the Ever came with the command of the tides. The bond was warm, like the swallow of bitter teas, and a bloom of power spread from the centermost place in my chest to my limbs. Thick mists wrapped around the hull. Wind crept from the south and kept our sails taut. The keel, jagged and sharp, sliced through the tides gently.
“Celine,” I called down to the deck. “You and Stormbringer take her in covered.”
Celine gave a lazy salute and went to the rail beside a brutish man with a patch covering an empty eye socket.
Stormbringer churned the seas and thickened the air with his voice. For turns, Celine practiced summoning water to the sky with heavy rains. It took time to develop the talent, long enough folk started to notice how her voice didn’t seem natural, but she managed to connect with Stormbringer’s song, making the task simpler. Together, they could draw out fierce fogs and sheets of rain.
In moments, black clouds rolled in over the horizon and swallowed us in the dampness. Violent flashes of light snaked across the sky. When a grumble sounded overhead, the floorboards rattled beneath my feet.
Livia blinked to the sky at the same moment fat drops of rain splattered over her smooth cheeks.
She didn’t duck away. Didn’t shriek. For a wretched moment, I was lost in my songbird. The harder the rain fell, the more she tilted her face, reaching for the storm. My world intrigued her more than it brought disgust. The more she was near, the less of her presence I ignored.
A boom of thunder sounded, and I barked my commands. “Ready the spears! Move, you bastards!”
No sleep until it’s through. A sailor’s grave is all we crave . . . hums of shanties were the response.
The crew didn’t dally; they rushed to the rails of either side of the deck. With heavy iron hooks, one man snagged a loop staked to a particular floorboard and heaved open a compartment hidden in the deck. The second reached inside and raised thin, iron barrels tucked belowdecks. On the top of the barrel was a hatch for loading, at the end was a gaping mouth.
“What are those?” Livia breathed out the question.
“Called ember spears. Steer clear of them.” I called to Tait to take the helm. The moment he took the handle, I gripped Livia’s elbow. “You can’t be up here, Songbird.”
“Wait, why?”
I led her to the hatch. “Erik,” she protested.
“I do enjoy my name said with such passion from your tongue,” I said. “But afraid it won’t be enough for this.”
“You’re not trapping me down here if you’re going to fight. I have no way to defend myself and—”
“You’re right.” I shouldered the loose hinges of the galley door open. “Sewell!”
The cook didn’t startle, even had a knife in hand. With a hooded glare, Sewell spun the blade in his hand. “Going for a swim?”
I grinned. “Sounds that way. Keep watch on her.”
Sewell eyes brightened at the sight of Livia. “Get lost, little fox?”
“I didn’t.” She lifted her chin and went to Sewell’s side. “The king is under the belief I need to be holed away.”
Sewell nodded. “Into the den, let the eels swim.”
“Well, foxes can swim too.” She leveled me in a glare, but hugged her middle, as if shielding herself. Whether from me or the racket on the upper deck, I wasn’t certain.
“Don’t leave the galley,” I said. “No matter what you hear.” “No promises, Bloodsinger,” she whispered.
“Make it a promise.” I slammed the door before she could argue. Lucien was a sick bastard. He’d take Livia, possibly Celine too, for a prize, ravish them, brutalize them, and the thought of it added one or two clever ways to how I’d make him suffer today.
Tait turned over the helm when I returned.
“What’s the word, King?” a man who went by the simple name of Bones shouted beside one of the ember spears.
Against the distant horizon, black smoke burned against the sky. Lucien was a delay, but one I’d gladly take.
I drew a long breath into my lungs. Wind whipped through the sails. The sea thrashed around the keel. “All hands, man your bleeding posts! Take her down!”
Roars of agreement boomed on the deck. The bow dipped, a diving creature in the tides, and water crashed over the deck, swallowing us whole.
