Page 42 of The Ever King

“Sewell?” Every muscle tensed when the cook rolled my sleeve over the mark.

His eyes were like wet glass. “Don’t let them see, or they’ll take you from him. Might even take your eel like they took two little eels, but what could I do? Had to do it, little fox.”

“What did you do?” I whispered.

“Broke the way of things.” Desperation filled his gaze, and my heart snapped in two. The man wanted to tell me what was in his head, but his tongue simply wouldn’t allow it. “Like a fox among tides.”

“Are you saying I’ve broken the way things are because of this mark?”

He patted my cheek, nodding. “Reasons we can’t know, but be at ease, the heart of the young is not the same as the sire.”

Sewell closed his eyes. His jaw tightened. For a long moment he seemed to gather his words, knowing he was making little sense, but in the end, he merely spoke whatever words came. “Marks of eels—” Sewell patted my arm. “Heal it all.”

“Heal what?” My voice was hardly above a whisper.

“She called you back.”

I clung to his hands. “Who, Sewell? Tell me who?”

“The Ever.” His voice was clear, sharp. It was powerful.

It only lasted a moment before he hung his head, pleading in riddles. “Bring it back, little fox.” Sewell blinked and a tear dripped over his lashes. “Don’t let them take it away.”

Once more he patted my arm. I blinked through a blur of my own tears and forced a smile. “I understand, Sewell. I-I won’t let anyone see it. I’ll be careful.”

The man let out a heavy sigh. He pressed a kiss to my curled fingers, then smiled at me as he patted the top of my fist. Soon enough, Sewell was back to his humming and shanties. When Celine stepped into the room to take Bloodsinger’s food; she studied the cook for a few breaths. He glanced at her over his shoulder, gave her a smile she returned, then they both turned away as though they’d never paused to look at each other.Odd.

I kept scrubbing, tilting my face away to hide the true tension in my face. As Sewell dried a few bowls and restacked them in their crates, I rubbed my thumb over the rune scar.

The Chasm had called to me. There was more to this mark. I needed to understand it. If it was as powerful as Sewell thought, then I might’ve found the one way to survive.

Or the way to kill me faster.

CHAPTER15

The Songbird

For three sunrises I rarely left the galley. I found a bit of peace with Sewell and his riddles. He had a laugh that built from somewhere deep in his belly, and when he rambled on with his nonsensical tales and struck a particularly humorous part, I forgot I was aboard the Ever Ship.

I forgot I wasn’t free.

I’d drift to somewhere safe. Nights on the shores with my friends around fires, laughing at whatever woman Jonas had chasing him, or Aleksi’s proclivity to follow rules only to break them when he wanted.

I’d let myself feel safe in the galley, like my family stood right outside the door.

On the third day, angry clouds mottled the sunlight, and the boisterous songs of the crew lowered to eerie hums and chants.

“Feed for an eel.” Sewell muttered after we’d worked side by side serving the crew a meager midday meal of flatbread and salted herring. He pointed to the tray with an added splatter of berry jelly the cook saved for his eel king.

Sewell winced and slumped against the wall.

“All right?” I asked, stacking the last wooden plate in the crate.

He waved me away with a hand. “Cracks and aches from tussles with wolves.”

Three days in, wolves I likened to my folk. I wasn’t certain if I took offense or if I liked that Sewell viewed us as a bit ferocious. Cracks and aches, the way he rubbed one shoulder, I could guess he had old wounds from the war.

“Save a stroll?” He gestured at Erik’s tray, then gave me one of his slow, sly smirks barely visible under his wiry beard.