Page 80 of The Ever King

“I think I’ll stay right here.”

He gave his head a slight shake. “Come.”

“No, really, I—”

“Found the earth fae.” Larsson materialized around the post of the staircase. “Sewell, get on out there. You’re to see old Murdock.”

“Poor stitching, that one,” Sewell said, frowning.

“Aye, but you know how he’ll piss and moan if he doesn’t get a look.” Larsson clapped Sewell’s shoulder. “The man is practically insisting. But Tilly’s got her cherry rum for you already. It’ll burn that skin right off your bones.”

Sewell flicked his gaze to me. “Remember the dreary.” His gaze fell to my arm, the spot with the mark of kings. Remember the dreary, meaning remember he’d warned me to hide certain truths.

I dipped my chin, fighting my churning stomach, when a few crewmen helped Sewell limp off the ship.

Larsson removed his hat and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “You staying here? I promise you the dock men who tidy the ship once we’re off are rougher than the crew.”

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

“Oh, I expect you will someday, much like the rest of us.” He chuckled.

I couldn’t help myself—I smiled. Larsson had an easiness about him. He was loyal to his brutal king, no mistake, but he seemed a bit like Jonas. Playful, never taking life too seriously. He was a bit of home.

I followed him to the plank. Crowds had already swallowed up most of the crew. Wives swatted husbands on the cheek, shouting at them for being gone too long, then kissed them like it might be their last. Mothers found their sons and tried to clean off the sweat and blood they earned on the ship.

My heart hurt. It was so much like home, and now . . . I didn’t know when I’d ever be swallowed into my mother’s arms, or have my father pull me close and plant a kiss on my head.

I missed them.

I mourned them.

No matter what Bloodsinger told me about the early wars, I could never stop loving them.

I’d had lonely moments since being taken to think of what I knew of the final battle. There were holes in the history, secrets no one mentioned. Aleksi was one. Whenever Bloodsinger was brought up, Alek changed the conversation, and I didn’t know why.

My cousin was a little over eleven turns when the war ended. Like me, he was kept away, safe and hidden until the end. I could not recall a single interaction between Aleksi and Bloodsinger.

Stieg was another mystery. He knew the Ever King personally. Enough that my father’s captain did not address Erik with titles; instead, he addressed him by his given name. Seemed to think he could reach Bloodsinger differently than others. Was it truly because he’d manipulated a frightened boy in a cell to trust him once?

“Time to disembark.” Larsson’s voice shook me from the daze.

He stood at the top of the gangplank and pointed at a line of wagons and a black coach at the bottom. Each was pulled by a trio of strange charges. A kind of stag bred with a mule. Stubbed horns topped their thick crowns, but every mane was thick and luscious, and the hooves weren’t clefted.

“Horthane.” Larsson made a lazy gesture at the creatures. “Your horses don’t handle the air of the Ever well. But horthane are, what would you land folk say? Strong as an ox, yet swim as well as an eel. Quite tame creatures for the most part, but do not approach without your hand outstretched. They must catch your scent first and determine if you’re to be trusted.”

“And if they don’t?”

Larsson grinned, a divot puckered in his cheek, adding a bit more appeal to his face. “Well then, I hope you’re not attached to your fingers.”

I swallowed until I could stand with indifference again. In the back of the wagon line was a small cart with iron bars on the sides. Empty and ready for filling.

“Afraid you’ll be taking the barred wagon.”

There were bound to be bars eventually, no reason to be surprised, still I bit my cheek to hide the blur of tears. They’d try to break me, but I refused to let them. I’d fall into the Otherworld first.

Voices quieted once I stepped onto the dock. I kept my attention straight ahead while all around whispers followed me like a soft cloak. Words likedark fae,earth worker, even a few muttered shouts ofbitchfollowed.

It wasn’t until I stepped beside the barred cart that someone from the crowd hocked a glob of spit on my borrowed boots. Larsson shoved the man back into the crowd and unlocked the cage door.