Page 120 of The Ever King

Murdock rolled his eyes and pointed to a tray beside the bed filled with varying vials and powders and tonics. He went through each one, describing how it would help with the healing, the pain, even the potency of my blood until the wound sealed.

“Then, of course, here is a serenleaf tonic should the nightmares continue.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re losing your touch, and I’m rethinking my decision to keep you on the employ of the palace. No Mare demons have touched my head.”

“Ah, My King.” Murdock chuckled and stuffed his leather satchel with the supplies he didn’t plan to leave. “I’ll remain in your employ not only because you trust me with your life, but I am the greatest boneweaver in the royal city. Perhaps the whole of the Ever.”

I balked. “Tell that to Poppy.”

“The old hag—”

“Your aunt.”

Murdock ruffled. I took a great deal of pleasure drawing out the unspoken rivalry between my boneweaver and Poppy.

The man cleared his throat, mouth tight, and held up the vial again. “As I was saying, for the nightmares. Not yours, my arrogant king. For your claimed.” He waved toward the door leading to my mother’s tattered gardens. “Girl hasn’t slept in the two nights you’ve been healing.”

Two nights. I sat up too abruptly and cursed when fire bit along the edges of the wound. In all my muddled thoughts, Livia had slipped through the cracks. She’d stayed with me; she bleeding saved me.

“Where is she?”

“Wandering.” Murdock tucked his satchel beneath his thick arm with a sigh. “Well, it has been another pleasant visit. Follow my instructions, and I shall look in on the wound in the morning.”

I wasn’t listening. I kicked my legs off the edge of the bed and yanked my boots on. The wound ached, but I was no stranger to pain, and buried it until all that remained was a dull jab in my side. Outside, the top tier of the garden was empty but for the blood and bits of flesh still mangled on jagged roots in the soil.

Shit, I’d forgotten. Livia impaled one of the bastards, nearly lost her life for it.

One hand on my side, I spun around, an unease that was not my own grew heavy in my stomach. Where was she?

On the shore of the cove, a dim lantern flickered and cast ghostly shadows over the curves of a woman. I quickened my step down the staircases, carving through each garden tier until my boots sunk into the damp sand of the beach.

Livia paced, eyes on the sea. She was dressed in a pale dress, with the bodice laces loose and open over her chest. I’d never been truly struck silent before, as in words couldn’t form. I was too absorbed in the smooth curves of her legs, her wild, dark hair whipping around her cheeks.

Much the same as I’d been struck when I caught sight of my songbird buying ribbons for her masquerade, I was lost to her now.

“Erik.” Livia startled when she turned to pace the opposite direction. Her blue eyes narrowed on my bandages. “You shouldn’t be up. You’ll split the skin open.”

“I’ve dealt with flesh wounds before,” I said lightly, but there was a harsh truth to it. “Why are you wandering about after more than one blade nearly took your head?”

A furrow of worry gathered between her brows. “Celine assured me your private gardens and cove were well-guarded. Well, she told me they were ridiculously guarded, and if you never want another person to enter, your guards will make it impossible for folk to do so.”

Her words rambled and quivered, and the longer she spoke, the tighter her grip wrenched on the lantern’s handle.

I limped toward her, unashamed of the wince. She saw the damage; there’d be no point hiding it. Livia didn’t back away. She held my gaze, unblinking, and her chin quivered just enough to be seen when I curled a hand around her wrist.

“Why are you out here, love?” I asked again, softer than before.

She sniffed. “I killed a man.”

“And he doesn’t deserve your tears.”

“He was still a someone. I-I-I’ve never killed anyone, and I thought . . . I suppose, I thought I should feel some great remorse, but it hasn’t come, and I keep thinking what sort of woman does that make me? I could’ve snared him like the others, but Ichoseto kill him. My fury can be dark and dangerous, and I knew it; I wanted to kill him. Because I knew they’d come to kill you. I’ve never felt so . . . so violent.”

She bloodied her hands to save me. Beautiful, reckless woman. If I was not cautious, Livia Ferus would unravel my every dark, wretched belief of what I was to become as king. Of what I deserved.

I placed my hand on her cheek, my thumb traced the gentle line of her lip. “I know the feeling.”

Livia let out a sigh and rested her forehead against mine. “Every time I try to sleep, I replay it over and over, as if my mind is trying to find some shred of humanity, some proof I’d exhausted all my options. But I keep realizing, I killed because I could. Because I wanted to and—”