Page 47 of The Ever King

She looked . . . like she belonged here, beside me, an open sea before us.

I tore my gaze away. “We’re off to make a man much deader than he is.”

“Gods.” She grimaced. “The way you speak, it’s as if killing is nothing. Does it not change you?”

I’d never forget my first kill. “Better to do the killing than be killed.”

Commands ran down the ranks of the crew, every position sounding off, until I waved one palm and a thick, damp breeze rose from the surf, filling the sails with a loud snap.

The ship hardly made a groan as it yielded to my hold and aimed the bow out of the walls of the white cliffs, reeling back toward the small island village of Skondell. It wasn’t a great distance, and with the seas under my command it would be a swift arrival.

Folk there kept to themselves, lived humble, nearly primitive lives, and sold the rare tide lotus throughout the kingdom. The black satin petals were rife in pain relieving properties, often used during childbirth.

But mishandled, the lotus was vicious.

Stripped of the petals, the lotus stem and leaves became a powerful hallucinogen. One that left the victim wallowing in nightmarish madness for a full day and night with the smallest dose. Traded to the right, ill-intentioned buyers, and the lotuses became a weapon.

The people of Skondell had harvested the lotus blossoms for centuries, a contribution made for the benefit of the kingdom in exchange for the freedom to live apart, unbothered.

To pick Skondell as a raiding point and breach royal amnesty proclamations was Lucien’s way of cock-measuring. A sort of twisted test to see if the king might act against him. He would know soon enough.

With both hands on the helm, I closed my eyes. The hum was low, a bare whisper on the wind, but it was enough to beckon the tides to serve in our favor.

Poison or health lived in my veins, but so did the sea. The honor of each king who sat atop the throne of the Ever came with the command of the tides. The bond was warm, like the swallow of bitter teas, and a bloom of power spread from the centermost place in my chest to my limbs. Thick mists wrapped around the hull. Wind crept from the south and kept our sails taut. The keel, jagged and sharp, sliced through the tides gently.

“Celine,” I called down to the deck. “You and Stormbringer take her in covered.”

Celine gave a lazy salute and went to the rail beside a brutish man with a patch covering an empty eye socket.

Stormbringer churned the seas and thickened the air with his voice. For turns, Celine practiced summoning water to the sky with heavy rains. It took time to develop the talent, long enough folk started to notice how her voice didn’t seem natural, but she managed to connect with Stormbringer’s song, making the task simpler. Together, they could draw out fierce fogs and sheets of rain.

In moments, black clouds rolled in over the horizon and swallowed us in the dampness. Violent flashes of light snaked across the sky. When a grumble sounded overhead, the floorboards rattled beneath my feet.

Livia blinked to the sky at the same moment fat drops of rain splattered over her smooth cheeks.

She didn’t duck away. Didn’t shriek. For a wretched moment, I was lost in my songbird. The harder the rain fell, the more she tilted her face, reaching for the storm. My world intrigued her more than it brought disgust. The more she was near, the less of her presence I ignored.

A boom of thunder sounded, and I barked my commands. “Ready the spears! Move, you bastards!”

No sleep until it’s through. A sailor’s grave is all we crave . . .hums of shanties were the response.

The crew didn’t dally; they rushed to the rails of either side of the deck. With heavy iron hooks, one man snagged a loop staked to a particular floorboard and heaved open a compartment hidden in the deck. The second reached inside and raised thin, iron barrels tucked belowdecks. On the top of the barrel was a hatch for loading, at the end was a gaping mouth.

“What are those?” Livia breathed out the question.

“Called ember spears. Steer clear of them.” I called to Tait to take the helm. The moment he took the handle, I gripped Livia’s elbow. “You can’t be up here, Songbird.”

“Wait, why?”

I led her to the hatch.

“Erik,” she protested.

“I do enjoy my name said with such passion from your tongue,” I said. “But afraid it won’t be enough for this.”

“You’re not trapping me down here if you’re going to fight. I have no way to defend myself and—”

“You’re right.” I shouldered the loose hinges of the galley door open. “Sewell!”