Page 130 of Dance of Kings and Thieves

With narrowed eyes he looked to Valen, Elise, then found me in the darkness. “What did you do?”

“Do?” Valen’s tone took on a bit of the beastly growl. “What the hells do you mean, what did we do? We rescued your son and killed half an army, you bastard.”

“I asked for the heir of the Ever to be returned in one piece.”

Thorvald snapped his fingers. At once, Harald hurried to Stieg and snatched Erik out of the warrior’s arms. The boy winced but didn’t cry out when his leg wiggled too much.

“There he is,” Harald said cheerfully, patting Erik’s back. “Ready for a swim, my boy?”

The hair on my arms lifted when Harald scurried back to the plank, almost desperate to get out of his brother’s wake.

Valen narrowed his eyes at the sea king. “If you don’t want the boy, then hand him back. We will tend to him.”

Thorvald sneered. “He will be marred the rest of his life. Likely, he’ll never walk right. What sort of strength and confidence do you think that will wield for the heir?”

“A great deal, since the little endured torture and did not break,” Valen said, one hand resting on one battle axe. By now, Hagen, Tor, and Sol began crowding behind the king, blocking Elise and Herja.

Gunnar stood by my shoulder. In truth, I’d unknowingly made my way toward Valen and the others, sword in hand.

“Torture.” Thorvald mulled the word around like a rancid bit of meat. “At the hands of your folk.”

“Our enemies,” Valen corrected.

“Land fae, land folk, you are all the same.” Thorvald looked about the ship. “The boy was a perfect heir. A prize to his people, and now he has been ruined. Seems only fair we make one of your beautiful things ugly as penance for our burden.”

The next moves unraveled into a bloody mess. I could hardly follow what sword belonged to whom.

Thorvald had a blade with a crimson hilt in hand, and he lunged forward with wicked speed. He did not aim at Valen, or me. He’d gone for the weakest-looking of us. He’d gone for the one who foolishly remained unarmed.

Eryka screamed when Thorvald’s blade aimed for her eye.

“No!” Gunnar shouted.

I did not know if it was his mesmer, or if the roar of his voice startled Thorvald, but the blade swerved off course just enough that instead of impaling Eryka’s face, the edge cut a long gash from her brow to her cheek.

She sobbed, clutching her face as she stumbled. Gunnar caught her in his arms before she slammed into the rail.

Thorvald had a mere moment to grin his satisfaction at spilling blood before Valen’s axe was thrust deep into his chest.

“Thorvald!” Harald roared from the ship, dropping his screaming nephew, and rushed back to the plank.

I stepped in front of his path, eyes black, blade outstretched. “I would think carefully about your move, sea fae.”

“You have no power on the sea,” he spat back.

“So sure?” Inky coils wrapped around his throat. “It seems you’re rather terrified even in your realm.”

Harald swallowed thickly, but he was wise enough to hold his steps.

“You made a mistake touching one of our own,” Valen growled close to Thorvald’s face. “You see, the girl means a great deal to my nephew. That makes her ours.”

Thorvald coughed. Blood splattered over his lips.

“Go to the hells, sea king.” Valen ripped his axe from the fae’s chest.

Thorvald collapsed in a heap of blood. His waist struck the rail of the warship, and as if the waves reached forth to snag its lost king, he was pulled over the edge of the ship to the black depths of the Fate’s Ocean.

No one moved for a few breaths. Eryka’s sobs mingled with the clash of waves against the keel. I met Malin’s gaze. She was stiff, eyes wide, but she did not cower beneath her fear. She held steady, the ring aglow on her finger.