I clung to Celine’s arm like I’d clung to Mira. Truth be told, she held to me much the same. A wash of fright filled her bright eyes when we reached
two wide doors.
The clatter of silver on fine platters, rolls of voices in low tones, and a few brisk laughs flowed into our corridor like an ebbing tide.
Celine swallowed with effort. “Don’t you go anywhere without me or the king, understand?”
“What frightens you about your own people?”
Celine blinked, a shimmer of wet glass coated her eyes. “I’ve never . . . agreed to attend a return feast.”
“Why?”
“Reasons.” She blew out a long breath. “King asks me every time but lets me refuse. Aboard the ship is one thing. There, I’m a blade. I’m of use. Here, I’m a weak thing who slept her way into the king’s good graces.”
My stomach cinched. It didn’t matter who Erik Bloodsinger bedded, but he was set to claim me. If Celine held a place for him in her heart, I did not wish this to hurt her. Against my best efforts, I liked her.
She glanced at me. “If you’re thinking I bedded the king, I didn’t. I’m just saying that’s what people say. I earned my high rank by proving I was of use.”
The relief was potent, and I had no time—or desire—to unravel why. From a side door, Erik emerged, flanked by Larsson and Tait. The king dressed in all black, from the coat over his shoulders to the boots on his feet. Where had he gone to prepare for the feast? Did he have another room? Did he go to that woman he insisted was not his mate?
I lifted my chin, refusing to care until my heart almost believed it.
The lack of contrast of his attire only brightened the tangle of red and cold in his eyes. On the ship Erik never had his head uncovered, but here the thick waves of his hair reminded me of damp soil after a rainstorm.
The absence of weapons and his hat emphasized how lithe and tall he was, how beautifully vicious he could be.
Erik’s gaze roved over me, unashamed, as though he were soaking up every surface of my body. To be viewed in such a way was strangely intimate, and even more strange, I didn’t despise it.
Men back home looked at me, but most saw me as Valen Ferus’s daughter, a royal ambition to earn the eye of the earth bender king.
It was almost laughable how the man who robbed me from my home for a clear purpose of catching my father’s attention for drearier reasons, was the one who looked at me like a woman. Like he saw every fissure of weakness, every strength and imperfection, and wanted them anyway. Not because I was my father’s daughter. He wanted them because they were mine.
“Celine?” Larsson studied his shipmate and laughed. “By the gods, woman, I’ve never seen you not buried in oversized clothes. You’ve been hiding from us.”
The trance locking my gaze with the king shattered. Celine reached beneath her skirt and had a knife in hand, spinning it with a glare. “Taunt me, and it will be your last mistake.”
Larsson took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “No taunts, Tidecaller. Merely impressed you’ve managed to steal my heart in one night. How will I ever sail with you now?”
She elbowed him in the chest, drawing out a laugh, but accepted his outstretched hand. Tait was sullen and looked as though he’d swallowed something sour. There was an unease about the man, and I could not puzzle if he despised his king or was in a constant state of fearing for him.
Erik approached until our chests nearly touched. For a tense, drawn out pause he studied me, then slowly, took hold of my hand, and kissed my knuckles the same as Larsson did with Celine.
“Songbird.” His voice was soft as an approaching storm. “Serpent.”
His eyes brightened. “This reminds me of another ball I attended not too long ago.”
My lips pinched. “Well, I hope you’re not expecting the same results. I assure you it will not be happening.”
An empty threat. Erik Bloodsinger could do anything to me, should he desire it, and no one here would ever stop him. I wasn’t certain I’d stop him.
“I’ve no need to take you,” he whispered. “You’re already mine.”
The king threaded my arm through his elbow. Despite his snide insinuations, I held to him as though he were the only thing keeping me upright.
Two guards opened the doors to the savory scents and riotous company of the feast. My stomach churned when Erik led us inside. Silence choked off the undertones of conversation, and all eyes seemed to dig into my flesh. Blades adorned most belts, sometimes more than one. There were more men than women, but it didn’t matter. Everyone stared at me with confused rage. Sneers, glowers, sometimes muttered words under their breath
followed me as Erik led us to the high table.
My blood chilled once I was seated. I dared lift my gaze, only to be met with the same sharp stares, bemusement, and no doubt murderous intrigue.
The air grew hot, like falling sparks bit into my skin. Walls were too near, too tight, too confined. A heavy hand fell to my knee. I startled, unaware my leg had been bouncing enough the silver clinked against the plates.
“You are Livia Ferus,” he whispered. The way his head tilted into me, no mistake, it would appear the king had his mouth all over my throat. I didn’t move away; I soaked up his every word as he went on. “Daughter of warriors, blood of the Night Folk fae, painter of windows, challenger of the Ever King. These people can do nothing to you.”
Our noses touched as he shifted away from me. A thousand words tumbled through my mind at what I could say, but none of it seemed right.
My heart rate slowed, and my breaths grew even again. The way he looked at me wasn’t rife with pity or annoyance that my skin grew flushed, or irrational fears attacked from behind too often. Erik gave me a subtle nod as if to tell me I was stronger than all that. I could take the attack, but still rise the victor.
Without much thought, my palm covered his hand on my knee and squeezed.
The scar on his lip twitched when his expression turned smug. “Changed a few pieces of your impossibly long title, but I thought they suited.”
He sat back, eyes forward, pulling away.
Dueling emotions collided in my chest. Erik was cruel, he slaughtered men and strung them up by their innards. The man didn’t coddle, I wasn’t certain he knew how, yet his simple reminder of who I was left me sitting straighter, more empowered than before.
Now, he wouldn’t look at me. He buried the moment of tenderness beneath smug grins and indifference.
The feast was uneventful. Most folk kept a healthy distance from the lead table. Few came to wish Erik congratulations on the successful journey through the Chasm. They’d pause to sneer at me until the king shouted for them to keep moving.
I managed to eat a few bites of a strange, gray fish with a sweet glaze that reminded me of heated honey. Celine peered around Larsson more than once, as if to ensure I hadn’t trembled myself into a puddle of tears.
The twitch of concern on her face meant something. It meant a great deal.
At long last, Erik stood. The scrape of his chair over the polished stones on the floor silenced the hall. He studied his people with a narrowed look for a few breaths before he spoke. “For ten turns we’ve been locked away, prisoners in our own kingdom. Those days are at an end.”
Cheers echoed through the hall. Folk raised their goblets and shouted Erik’s name until he raised a hand.
“We have gone to the land of our enemies.” He looked back at me, a dark gleam in his eyes. “And returned with a way to heal our kingdom.”
I didn’t waver under his stare. He wanted a challenge, and I wouldn’t be the first to break.
“Fate is interesting in her games,” Erik went on. “Livia of House Ferus is no mere prize. I have witnessed the use of her ability to heal poisoned soil.” A few gasps followed. My pulse pounded in my skull. Erik silenced everyone once more. “Her worth to me and this kingdom is unmatched. She has become the mantle of the Ever King.”
Voices rose in a bit of stun and chaos. Chatter echoed over the long tables, gasps and murmurs pummeled against us in a frenzy.
Erik allowed it for a dozen heartbeats before lifting a palm to draw back the silence. “It is for this reason I make a deeper claim beyond the power in her veins. Tonight, I claim her as mine.”
I was spinning. “Songbird.”
I startled. Erik took my hand and tilted his head toward a wizened man with milky eyes, and two black ribbons draped over his hands. Without a spare glance my way, the old man wrapped our clasped hands in the ribbon and hummed.
Sharp prickles of pain shot through the tips of my fingers, burning up my arm, until it reached my heart. I clenched my jaw to keep from doubling over. Erik’s eyes nearly looked black, and a muscle twitched in his jaw.
For a fleeting moment, I felt as though the king pulled me into an embrace. His smoke and rain scent surrounded me. The heat of his skin kissed mine even though we hadn’t moved any closer. As quickly as it began, the sensation faded.
The moment the ribbons were removed from our hands, Erik released me, and hurried to put distance between us.
He faced his people again, a new grit to his voice. “The woman is not to be touched, threatened, or harmed in any way. Those who try will die. You will be known to me through the mark of the claim, and you will be granted no mercy. As the claimed and mantle of your king, she will have your respect. Nothing less.”
Erik didn’t say more before returning to his seat. For the first time since he tore me from my land, I didn’t want to flee. I didn’t care if a hundred eyes were locked on me, I wanted the king to face me. I wanted to understand why the unease in my heart didn’t belong to me. The pressure, the burden of the unknowns, belonged wholly to him.
 |
“Celine will take you back to my chambers,” Erik said after the feast had transformed into dancing and celebration. Tunes that reminded me of falling rain flowed through the room, but at the king’s movement, people came to a halt.
“You’re leaving?”
“Upset I won’t be beside you, love?”
I scoffed. “Not at all. I wondered how long I might be able to enjoy myself before I’m burdened by the sight of you again.”
Erik’s eyes brightened. “Afraid it won’t be long. Whenever we return from the land realms, we record the interactions. I’ll be aggravating you soon enough.”
Then he was gone. Swallowed up in a crowd of sea fae who wanted to speak to the king.
“Hurry.” Celine appeared at my side. “I’ve had all I can take of this damn dress.”
I followed her back toward the corridors, but when we slipped through the doors, we ran into a broad man with dark hair slicked back.
“Lord Gavyn,” Celine said, voice soft. The breathlessness of it was unnerving. The woman wore shaved teeth and attacked enemy ships. She was brisk and formidable, not meek and soft.
A lord. Younger than I’d expect. Dressed in a blue tunic threaded in gold and polished boots. He stood straight and proud like a noble. I clung tighter to Celine’s arm. Erik hadn’t wanted me to cross paths with any of the lords, but Gavyn wasn’t looking at me. He was locked on Celine.
His brow furrowed. “Tidecaller. Why are you here?”
“I volunteered to watch the king’s . . . mantle.” She paused a moment before going on. “We breasts stick together.”
Gavyn flicked his confusion to me, then back to Celine. “Keep your head down.”
“And you, My Lord.”
I watched him storm away without a word. Celine tugged on my arm, urging me forward.
“Who was that?” I asked, halfway down the opposite corridor. “Lord Gavyn.”
“Why did it look like you both were going to . . . wait—are you lovers?”
“I think I just vomited in my mouth.” She glared at me, but less out of anger and more like she was trying to determine if I truly could be trustworthy.
“Celine, what is it?” “Why should I tell you?”
“Well, the fact that you asked makes me think you might want to.” Angry heat prickled up the back of my neck. “He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”
“I don’t understand you. You’re supposed to be a bitch and I should want to pull your hair out.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” The secrets she harbored seemed poised to tear Celine apart. Her body was tense, and it struck me—she had no one, just like me. I took her hand. “You’re the only person besides the king who really talks to me. At the very least, just assure me Gavyn isn’t hurting you.”
After a moment, her shoulders slumped. “Gavyn is my brother.”
“Your brother? But… he’s one of the house lords and you’re—”
“A nobody on the Ever King’s ship?”
“The ranks do seem uneven.”
“It’s the way it has to be.”
The shock on Gavyn’s face when he saw her made a bit more sense. “He seemed uneasy about you being here, and you mentioned you never come to the feasts. Why?”
“Because no one knows what I mean to him. It has to be this way.” Her hand moved to the scar on her neck, rubbing the puckered flesh. “If anyone discovered my true name, it could get both of us killed.”
“Your true name?” My eyes widened. “You are a siren, aren’t you? Why is it secret? Why do you claim the House of Tides when your voice is from the House of Mists?”
“Because it was cut out,” Celine gritted through her teeth. In the next breath, she clapped a hand over her mouth, tears in her eyes. “Don’t . . . don’t say anything.”
“Celine.” I placed a hand on her shoulder. “I won’t say a word, but how can your voice be cut out?”
Her chin quivered. “Not my voice, my song. The siren’s call is kept here.” She patted the scar. “It can be removed. Painfully.”
Bleeding hells. “But you still have a song.”
She lifted her eyes, a tear on her cheek. “Most sea folk have a connection to the water. I had help, but I practiced my call to the tides. Eventually they answered, but it is not my natural gift. I was renamed Tidecaller and forgot the past. Please, you cannot say anything. You don’t understand how the mere breath in my lungs is treasonous.”
“But why?”
“I told you, sometimes females are expendable in the Ever.”
This was damn madness. Was Celine truly nearly killed, was she truly stripped of her voice, all because she was a woman?
“Gavyn doesn’t acknowledge you because—”
“Because I should not exist.” Celine glanced over her shoulder. “Please, I can’t tell you more. It isn’t a matter of wanting, I truly can’t for the sake of more than just me. But know this—you might detest what my king did to you, but Gavyn and I, we owe Erik Bloodsinger everything.”
