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“The Ever Kingdom stands against the earth realms.” The sea fae beside Davorin shouted, a wicked sneer on his mouth. “In the name of the king, we have come to claim your land and—”

“We’ve no wish to hear you, Harald,” Valen shouted. “We recall you well enough. If a king declares war on another kingdom, then letthat kingspeak.”

“I speak for the king of the Ever.”

Davorin chuckled, as though the heated words were a bleeding thrill. His smile faded soon enough when a firm voice cut through.

“You do no such thing.” The fae parted again.

“The boy king,” I said, nudging Calista’s ribs. She nodded, and blanched. “What is it?”

“Why is he important?”

I studied the boy as he trudged forward. Young as he was, his people moved aside, almost fearful.

In the new dawn, the boy had removed the hat. A black, silken scarf was tied over his head. Like Harald, the boy had gold rings pierced in his ears, but like me—there were scars written on his skin. One through his lip, more down his throat in cruel gashes of raised, pale flesh. He walked with a slight limp, but the way he clenched his fist, I suspected he fought hard not to.

“Erik.” Stieg moved toward the front of the gates. “Do you remember me?”

The boy king halted. His eyes were like the red of the moon at night. They narrowed. “Warrior.”

“There doesn’t need to be war, Erik. There doesn’t.”

He chuckled. There wasn’t anything friendly about it. With a quick breath the boy king opened his arms and raised his voice. “I am Erik Bloodsinger, King of the Ever. Unlike my uncle, I am not here for petty squabbles of earth fae.”

“Boy, cease this talk,” Harald spat. “We spoke before—”

“Do not address your king with such careless words,Uncle.” Erik practically hissed at the man.

There was hatred between them. Hatred Davorin loved.

“Why are you here, King?” Valen asked, giving the boy a bit of respect.

Erik faced the Night Folk king, drew his sword, and aimed the point at him. “You. For the death of King Thorvald, I am here to challenge you for the power of the Ever.”

“We came for the earth realms,” Harald spat, trying to keep his voice low, but anger drove his tone loud enough the wind carried it.

Erik ignored him. “There is nothing I could ever want from the earth fae but the power you stole.”

“I would give it back, should you wish to speak peacefully,” Valen said.

“Give it back.” Erik chuckled bitterly. “The mantle is bestowed by the blessing and curses of a sea witch. Such a thing cannot begivenback when it was conquered. I’ve given you the honor of my warning, King. When we meet next, it will be with blades in hand.”

“No, it won’t,” Calista whispered, then shook her head like she hadn’t meant to say it.

A burn grew in the back of my throat. The sense of a dormant song. Whatever she was feeling was beginning to carve into my blood.

The Falkyn’s wife, Junius, if I recalled her name, leaned into Valen. “He’s speaking true. This war is not truly brought by him, but he wants revenge for Thorvald.”

Valen sighed with a bit of disappointment. “As you say, Ever King.”

“Willing to meet our demands?” Davorin stepped in front of Erik Bloodsinger.

The boy king shifted aside; he pinned a dark glare on the battle lord.

Valen stretched his palms. By his side, the Shadow King did the same, dark coils of night wrapped around his hands.

“Your demands are rejected.” Valen answered for the lot of us.