Page 43 of The Ever King

I frowned. “You want me to take it? Sewell, I told you, I find the king’s manners appalling, and would rather never experience them again.”

Sewell tsked. “Feed the eel and warm the heart, little fox.”

I chuckled. “I assure you, feeding Bloodsinger will not warm my fox heart. But for you? Fine.”

I added a layer of charcoal soot over my rune to ease his concern about the mark, then nudged him gently with an elbow to his belly as I took the tray. Sewell pressed his fingers to his lips then blew out the kiss.

“You play unfair,” I told him. “You and your puzzle words, but I think that was your plan to get me to do your tasks all along.”

He turned away, humming and grinning, without a word.

I’d been locked away belowdecks long enough, a gasp escaped when I stepped from the hatch. Open seas no longer surrounded the ship. The dark laths maneuvered between serpentine cliffs, hundreds of lengths above us. White stone with mottled gray gave the illusion of frost and snow packed onto the ledges.

The water was gentle, but rows of hanging bones in omens and wardings left a heavy sense of dread in my belly.

“Finally braved the crew again?”

I startled, nearly spilling the plate over the rail.

Celine sat on top of an old cask. She pointed to the food. Her lips curled into a cruel grin. “I was starting to think Sewell either cooked you up in a stew or we’d scared you into madness.”

“You think too much of yourself.” I spun away from the rail. “You’re not that frightening.”

Celine let her face point toward the dreary sky and sighed. “Sure, earth fae. Better steady your hands then. With all that rattling, Bloodsinger won’t believe your lies.”

Dammit. Each step farther from the galley, my skin prickled with discontent and clinked the silver spoon against the tin of the cup. Fear was a constant companion, but if I was to survive this, then I needed to be sly, needed to learn all I could about the Ever, or I’d be better off pitching overboard and taking a chance on the creatures below the surface.

I knocked once, then shoved my way into Erik’s private chambers. In the days apart, I’d painted loathsome images of him eating bones or drinking blood. A way to keep him as a fiend in my head.

Erik disappointed me. Again.

He wasn’t eating bones or drinking blood. He leaned over the small table, a yellowed map sprawled out in front of him. Laces were parted on his shirt, and it gave me a clear view of the silver swallow dangling off his neck and the tips of a black line tattoo on his chest.

The cuffs of his shirt were rolled, baring his forearms, giving up the hard lines of his lean muscle and taut scars carefully placed over his veins.

Bloodsinger was a wretch. A horribly beautiful wretch. Was it possible to want someone dead, while taking too much pleasure in the sight of them?

Erik lifted his gaze without lifting his head. The rich, satin red in his eyes deepened. “Songbird.”

“Serpent.” I placed the platter on the cot without looking at him. “Sewell said you needed to eat.”

I was halfway back to the door when his soft laugh drew me back.

“I told you Sewell would take to you.”

“Sewell is the only one who has shown me kindness, and he’s much more entertaining than the rest of you, so I take that as the highest compliment.”

Half of Erik’s mouth curved. “You will not get an argument from me, except about the kindness. The way I see it, I’ve been quite kind.”

“Really?” I scoffed. “Your insight to your own actions is concerning, King.”

He chuckled and turned back to the map.

“Where are we?” Through the window another cliff drew close.

“We’re entering the Ice Fjords. Many smaller isles populate the area.” He didn’t lift his eyes. “We should arrive at the royal city in two days.”

“That long? I’ve always been told the Ever Ship traveled impossible distances swiftly.”