Page 49 of The Ever King

Not as shallow as he likely hoped.Gods. I didn’t know this fae. No doubt he’d slaughtered my people by the dozens if he’d fought in the war, but he’d protected me. He was kind to me.

“Sewell,” I said, breathless. “Hold here.” I took his hand and secured his grip around a post marking the stove nook. “I’ll be back.”

“Dark tides, little fox. Best stay in the burrow.”

“Well, I’m rather averse to blood and death in my burrow.”

“Aye.” He nodded as if our conversation made a great deal of sense.

“I’ll be back for you.” There was only one place on the ship I knew had clean supplies. “Don’t move, and bleeding hells, don’t pull out that knife.”

I snatched the blade I’d dropped and scrambled to my feet, heart racing. Sewell hummed, but his skin was layered in sweat, and too much blood spilled from the wound.

All across the lower deck were cloth hammocks dangling from the ceiling. A few rooms near the back I took as wash areas, or the rooms where the crew dined. Sweat, leather, and the burn of piss perfumed the space. Another cruel dip of the hull, and I used one of the hanging cots to steady myself.

Damn Bloodsinger. Always calls for keeping the ship steady, and he was working mightily hard to toss the lot of us overboard.

I clamped the dull edge of the knife blade in my teeth and used both hands to steady my feet up the stairwell. Two more wild plunges over the storm-tossed waves, and I managed to crack the hatch wide enough for my hand to slip through.

“Dammit.” A rope kept the hatch secured to the deck floorboards, trapping Sewell and me below.

I sawed at it with the knife until it snapped, then tossed the hatch and stepped into the chaos of the main deck.

Shards of wood and the black spikes flung over the deck in a cloud of smoke and ash. Crewmen scrambled up rope ladders to the high points of the mast. Most laughed wildly, much like Sewell, and swung from the rigging across a gap between the Ever Ship and a smaller ship with only one mast in the center.

Dozens of men manned the odd iron barrels pressed through openings in the hull I’d never noticed. One man opened a lid on the top, while the other dropped in a type of amber fluid. Together the men would brace the barrel.

My heart battered my ribs when the end of the barrel burst with a furious blast of flame and smoke, firing a glossy orb the size of a man’s skull across the gap between ships.

What the hells was this?

“What are you doing?” Bloodsinger held to the handles on his helm in an unforgiving grip. His hat was gone, only the black scarf on his head was left behind. Through the thin fabric of his billowy tunic his muscles throbbed with the exertion of steering his ship.

“Get below deck.” He glared down at me, teeth clenched.

“Sewell is hurt.” I didn’t give him a chance to protest before I sprinted into his chamber and flung open the wardrobe. “Linens. Linens. Oils. Where are they?”

I tossed quilts off the cot. Flung boots, tunics, and the fine, green coat. Celine had taken oils and linens when she’d forced me to wash before leaving the chamber. I spun around where the wash basin remained. Spilled beneath the table was the overturned basket.

The ship lurched, and caused my forehead to slam against the edge of the table. Dazed, I rubbed the spot, ignoring the heat of blood on my fingers, and grabbed the ball of linen wraps and the cleansing soaps.

Doubtless the wound needed to be stitched, but if Bloodsinger couldn’t steady his bleeding ship, pressure would have to do for Sewell. When I shoved through the door, the edge slammed into Celine. Her teeth were jagged points, and blood spilled from her eyes.

She tilted her head to one side. “King says get your ass belowdecks.”

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing.” Celine patted her cheeks and lips, then chuckled and tugged on the points of the teeth, pulling them away. They were false, used to fit over her true teeth. “Terrifies stupid men. Now, get down there, or end up in there.”

She gestured over the rail of the ship. Gods! A swirling hole was punctured deep into the sea. Across the whirlpool was another ship. Smaller, but with the same dark laths and thick sails. There was no end to the abyss between the Ever Ship and the smaller vessel, yet the crew was lining up along the rails, snatching thick ropes of rigging.

“Take her in.” Larsson’s voice rose over the maelstrom.

He couldn’t be serious. I swung my gaze to the helm. Erik’s jaw was set. His stance wide. He spun the helm rapidly until it caught, rotated as far as it would go.

I grasped for the rail of the stairs leading to the king’s deck and watched in a bit of horror as the ship swerved abruptly off its course and dove bow-first into the torrent of the whirlpool. Before I had a chance to consider rushing back through the hatch, water spilled over my head. My lungs burned against the sea, and angry currents of the watery vortex pulled and shoved against me, threatening to rip me down into the depths.

The ship lurched as though tumbling down a rocky, underwater hillside. A violent tilt and sway of the hull churned my gut, then in the next breath, the bow angled toward the surface again. With a violent jolt, the Ever Ship burst through the white-capped waves on the opposite side of the whirlpool.