Page 63 of The Ever King

It was mortifying.

I’d need to face Bloodsinger again. I couldn’t recall every detail of my lust trance, but I recalled him. His taste, the heat of his breath on my skin, his hands, his body. My pulse quickened; I had to close my eyes and repeat all his lies, his cruel words and threats, to keep from tumbling down another spiral of disgusting, misplaced desire.

I didn’t want him.

It was a trance.

Yet I couldn’t keep my mind from spinning to the gentle way he’d returned me to the bed, the way he’d rushed me out of sight before anyone saw me unravel. The way he stopped.

A man who had utter control over me in a vulnerable moment had stopped it.

I let out a long breath. Bloodsinger didn’t want me, simple as that. Except there were bits and pieces of moments where his eyes burned like fire behind his irises and his fingers nearly bruised my skin from clinging to my body with such ferocity.

“Drink up, dearie.” The woman pointed at the water. “Clears the system. Promised the king I’d send you to him once you woke, and he’s not keen to wait around the fjords longer than needed.”

Heavy disquiet settled like hot stones in my stomach.

“Oh, I brought you this.” The woman set a sprig of some kind of herb with blue leaves on the table. “For the nerves.”

“Nerves?” I blinked. “You saw me?”

“Don’t know what I was supposed to have seen, but I know you’ve got wild nerves. Hard to breathe sometimes? Heart races? Thoughts spin?”

I nodded slowly. “How did you know?”

“Most boneweavers have a sense about these things.”

“Boneweaver?” I grinned. “You’re a healer.”

“You earth fae and your odd terms.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Boneweavers have an affinity to breathe in the ailments of the folk they’re weaving, healing, I suppose you’d say. Weaving sounds more intricate, don’t you think? Anyway, once we get a taste, we can recommend proper remedies.”

I studied the herbs. “I’ve had nightmares and . . . panicked thoughts since I was a girl.”

The old woman nodded with a touch of sympathy. “Mind’s a powerful thing, dearie. Don’t you go feeling no shame, but don’t you forget you own that mind of yours, it’s not to own you. The serenleaf will help. Quite soothing after a few breaths.”

She showed me how to rub the dust from the sprigs over my fingers, so the scent would be with me most of the day. According to the boneweaver, some folk threaded the herb in their gowns or jewelry. Subtle not to be noticed, but powerful enough it could help ease the sharp edges of the anxious nerves.

“I’m Livia,” I whispered as she gathered her supplies.

With a kind smile she nodded. “I know. Heard all about you from the king. He wasn’t pleased with how long you were sleeping.”

I frowned. If Bloodsinger hadn’t wanted me to get locked in a twisted, sexual trance, he shouldn’t have left me alone in a tavern with sea singers.

“About had to give him some serenleaf of his own to get the man to stop asking if you was breathing right.”

My fingertips tingled. Erik pestered her over my wellbeing, not out of his own annoyance? That didn’t fit.

The old woman chuckled and patted my shoulder. “Name’s Blister Poppy. If ever you return to the Ice Fjords, you come say hello, you hear? Now, once you feel steady, there’s some fresh clothes for you in the wardrobe. Next door down the hall, the king will be waiting.”

* * *

I inhaled deeply, drawing in the smooth scent of the serenleaf. The herb had a flavor like honey and milk and a sweet nectar.

I tucked the sprig into the deep pocket of the roughly spun wool skirt—a size too large—and smoothed out the billowy top. Almost positive I was adorned in a man’s top, I didn’t mind. Anything to rid myself of Bloodsinger’s shirt. All I saw when I looked at it was the way I’d wanted to shred it to pieces and climb onto Erik’s lap, naked.

What did Poppy say? My mind lived within me, but I gave it too much control. Last night, horrible as it was, had been something beyond my control. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed about.

I closed my eyes. Uncle Tor was always telling me to find a lesson in a struggle. I suppose next time I walk into a tavern in the Ever Sea, I will be on high watch for sea singers. I laughed softly. No mistake, any strum of a lute or beat of a drum will likely send me bolting from the room from now on.