The Ever Queen

1

The Serpent

For Livia.

Her name kept rushing through my head with every kick, every strike from the earth fae warriors.

I needed to live for her. I needed to return to the Ever Ship and find her. All I needed to do was survive long enough for Aleksi to speak for me.

Jonas, a prince from one of the earth fae realms, sneered at me as his men shoved a dirty scrap of leather into my mouth. I swallowed against the musty taste of it, as though it had been tucked down sweat-soaked trousers and baked beneath a hot sun.

Jonas gripped my arms and forced me up. Fire lit in my thigh, as though a flame were devouring the bone.

"Send a signal to the shore watch," Jonas commanded. "There could be more of these sods in the tides."

A little longer. Survive a little longer.

Two warriors were trudging toward the trap in which both Alek and Tait had fallen. Soon enough, they'd realize their error. I would face the earth bender-on my damn knees if needed-and we would bleeding sail back to the Ever and find my queen.

I didn't fight when Jonas commanded two warriors to bind my wrists. I didn't fight when they tugged me forward to where a row of earth stallions awaited their riders. The charges were strange-looking. I'd seen them before, but unlike the horthane of the Ever, these beasts hardly seemed capable of swimming in the tides. Dull teeth, rounded hooves, and swishing tails that looked like fae hair.

"Henrik." Jonas nodded at a warrior. "On second thought, let the other sea fae rot for a bit. I want the focus on the king."

The warrior dipped his chin and halted ten paces from the sinkhole in the knoll. Shit. They were leaving Aleksi.

From here, the muffled shouts of Alek's and Tait's voices were there, but wholly unintelligible. Perhaps it was a spell, a curse of fate, but they sounded like nothing more than men shouting through a door far away. Alek's own people did not realize they'd ensnared a prince. A prince whose voice and support I desperately needed.

A rush of panic tightened in my chest. Through the rancid gag in my mouth, I grunted and protested. Jonas merely freed a chuckle laced in venom, mounted his charge, and yanked on the tether around my wrists. I stumbled at the pull.

Jonas leaned over his leg, eyes narrowed. "Keep up, Bloodsinger."

I was dead.

The prince tugged on the rope again, and I limped forward, the weight of suffocating failure pressing on my spine with each shuffled step.

What would happen to Livia if I did not reach her? Would Gavyn find her? Perhaps he could bring her home, get her free of the troubles of the Ever. She could . . . return to the peace I'd shattered.

My face tilted toward the sky. The stars were different here. Only Voidwalker would be recognizable, but he was at my back, hovering over the sea.

When I was gone, I hoped . . . I hoped the gods might let me live in both skies like Voidwalker. That way, I could always see her.

The warriors kept a steady pace. There were times I stumbled, and the earth prince didn't slow, merely told me to get up and quicken my steps. By the time we reached the ominous gates of the main fortress, sweat coated my brow; my leg had long ago shifted from burning pain to sharp, numbing pricks, like stitching needles dug into every pore.

From one of the watchtowers, a warrior blew a curved horn. The procession halted for a bit at the gates, giving me time to catch my breath through the lump of sweaty leather.

Iron chains clanked; thick rope stretched and groaned as a heavy portcullis broke free of its resting place, allowing the warriors entry.

Eyes studied us, every damn move, as we made our way inside. Murmurs followed like shadows when the folk within the gates recognized the sight of me.

At the wide arched doorway that would lead into the main hall, we stopped.

Jonas kicked a leg over the furs atop the back of his steed and dropped to the dirt. He leaned into a guard at the door. "Where is King Valen?"

"The tower, My Lord."

"Fetch him. Now!"

The guard seemed startled at the briskness of the prince's tone. It didn't take much to guess he did not speak in such a way often. No doubt, most of the earth fae folk behaved differently since I'd robbed them of their princess.

Not so long ago, the windows had been draped in festive ribbons and shades. Stacks of sticky breads and sugared sweets had lined the table for their masque. Now, inside the hall, sweets had been replaced with pungent ale, swords, and scrolls of poorly drawn maps of what I guessed was their version of the Ever.

They were drawn wrong. They'd never find Livia by guessing, and they'd never get through the Chasm with their slender ships that looked more like sea serpents than vessels.

I couldn't die here, or she would die.

I knew Larsson could kill, and ruthlessly. I'd seen enough to give him the damn name of Bonekeeper.

Chatter ceased when Jonas pulled on the rope. "We have Bloodsinger!"

A few gasps followed. Blades were pulled off the table. With a great shove, Jonas knocked me down onto my knees. The leather fell from my mouth, and laughter rose against the rafters overhead.

Two boots, scuffed and coated in mud, stepped in front of me.

"Pick him up, Stieg," someone shouted from behind.

The man knelt. Slowly, I lifted my gaze to meet the warrior.

Stieg still had scars on his jaw that crept out from beneath his braided beard. One scar cut through his eyebrow, given to him while trapped in that room with me as a prisoner all those turns ago.

If anyone would listen, it would be the warrior.

"I didn't harm her," I rushed out in a quick breath. "I didn't harm either of them. You must listen-"

"I warned you," Stieg said, a touch of sadness in his tone. "I cannot protect you now, Ever King."

"Listen to me," I gritted out. "Your prince is trapped in the knoll, Stieg."

The use of his name furrowed his brow. Stieg rose, lifting me back to my feet. He kept his hold on my arm and spun me to face the hall, but flicked a hand at two men beside a narrow doorway.

When the men abandoned the hall, I dared hope.

Two paces away, Jonas still wore a vicious kind of grin, and now stood beside a man who shared his face. A brother. Livia had mentioned there were twin princes.

Black like the thickest ink spilled through the whites of their eyes with their dark magic.

Around the princes were warriors gripping blades until their knuckles whitened. Men, women, all of them studied me as if they hoped their eyes would peel the flesh off my bones. Close to Jonas was the woman who'd been beside Livia the night I took her.

She tapped a dagger against her dainty palm. Runes were inked down her forehead, chin, and throat. She, perhaps, looked the most ferocious of them all.

Doors to the side of me slammed against the walls, knocking two shields from their hooks, and the hall silenced like a wave leaving the shore.

There in the doorway, the earth bender king stood, axes in hand, shoulders lifting and falling in heavy, angry breaths. Eyes that once had pity for a boy at the end of the war now burned in malice I could taste.

Stay, Erik Bloodsinger.

The man standing across the hall was not looking for peace. He wanted blood.

Red lined his black eyes with a touch of bloodlust. Dark hair spilled over his brow, unkempt and wild. A king of might and dignity during the war, now he seemed more beast than man.

I didn't have time to take in much of anything before Valen Ferus, killer of my father, spun one of his blacksteel battle-axes in his grip. Long Night Folk fae legs had him across the hall in less than ten strides.

Stieg abandoned me in the same moment my back slammed against the stone wall. Air fled my lungs from the blow, then was blocked from returning when Valen used the handle of his axe to crush my throat.

"Where is she?" he roared in my face.

His words from so long ago filtered through my mind-Stay.

I was certain the earth bender king would see to it I would always remain. He'd make it so my bones littered this land until they turned to dust.

2

The Songbird

The air was strange, smooth, and too rich with spices like cardamom and citrus. I drew in another long breath, seeking the clean sea and heat in the breeze from the royal city.

I groaned, shifting on a pulpy surface. It was plush as bunches of moss under my spine, but pain bloomed through my chest as though someone took a rusted spike and rammed it through my body, pinning me in place.

I cracked one eye. My lashes were crusted in salt, from tears or the sea, I couldn't recall. Truth be told, I couldn't recall much for a few breaths until . . .

Larsson.

My other eye snapped open, sacrificing a few dried lashes to my wet cheeks. I shot upright, half expecting to be yanked backward by iron chains or a collar around my throat.

There were neither. All around were arched lancet windows, unlatched and allowing a morning breeze inside a . . . room. Rounded edges of a tower tapered up to sturdy rafters of a pointed rooftop.

Where the hells was I?

Thick green-and-gold drapes were hung around four impressively carved posts of the bed, a woven rug of pinks, oranges, and blues of a sunset on the sea coated the rough-cut floorboards, and a chestnut vanity, complete with silver brushes and combs and oils for perfuming the skin, was pushed against one wall.

Someone had dressed me in a thin shift that was clean and made of handspun silk. My hair was in a tangled plait over my shoulder, as though I'd slept on it more than once, and it needed to be brushed. Only faint bruises from where I'd been tossed onto the deck of Larsson's boat remained on my hip.

How long ago did he take me?

What sort of game was this?

I'd expected damp cells, piss and refuse around my feet, perhaps even waking in the Otherworld. Not a luxurious chamber reminiscent of my rooms in the Crimson Fort.

For a moment my feet hovered over the floorboards, like a scaled toothy creature might reach up and bite, until I let them fall, toes wiggling. Pieces of the moment I'd been snatched from the royal city began sliding into place.

A ruse, Larsson had drawn me out of the king's chambers, but . . . gods, Tait!

Heartwalker, bleeding out on the stone steps near the docks. The image was pungent in my brain, real and fierce until I was certain I could taste his blood on my tongue.

I fisted my hands and pressed them against my forehead. Tait, that scowly bastard. I always thought he despised me, but he'd known something was wrong and came for me all the same. He came to protect me.

I bent over my knees, fingers steepled in front of my mouth. Why was it Larsson?

"Brothers." The word slid from my lips, a soft declaration to the empty room. My pulse quickened. Clear and poisonous in my mind-Larsson had named Erik as his brother.

The rumors of Thorvald fathering another little hadn't concerned Erik; he was convinced if a child of Thorvald had existed, his position as king would've been challenged by now. But I'd sensed it-the strange bitterness, a claim to a lost birthright-buried beneath the corrupted soil of the darkening.

By the gods, we'd all been so duped.

A small, unfamiliar sneer pulled at the corner of my lips, a bit of hope-when Erik found Larsson, he'd peel his flesh from his bones. Brother or not. This time, when the darker edge of my heart reared her head, I didn't shove her away.

I pressed my thumbs across my brow, soothing an ache in my skull, and kept filtering through what had clashed with truth and what wasn't clear. Larsson believed he was the true king, and he wasn't alone.

I dropped my hands into my lap, teeth clacking when my jaw clamped shut. Others aided Larsson in his treachery, and one face grew clearer the more fog emptied from my mind.

The sound of a latch clicking drew my focus to an arched door across the room. Constellations were carved along the frame and split when the door opened. I scrambled around to the opposite side of the bed, desperate for a blade, a shard of wood, anything to defend myself.

I'd expected Larsson's face in the dim light. Instead, I met the brilliant gaze of a woman I didn't recognize. Hair the color of silver twilight flowed down her slender spine. Her ears were sharply pointed and pierced in dainty gold chains. But it was her eyes that stunned me. Bright as a bursting star, so blue they nearly glowed.

Her full, darkly painted lips twitched. "You're awake. I didn't trust the sea witch to actually tend to you, so I took the liberty of supplying a few healing herbs myself."

"You work with Fione," I gritted out through my teeth, still searching for something jagged to break the skin on this woman.

The day Larsson took me, porcelain features had met me on the boat. The sea witch, she'd been part of this. To what end, to what depth, I didn't know. If Erik slaughtered Larsson, those darker edges of my heart yearned to be the one to spill her blood.

"I work for no one." The woman entered the room like a gentle dance. She was delicate in her hands and features, but her body seemed sturdy enough to lift a blade for a few kills. "Truth be told, I find the sea witch rather dull. Perhaps a little odious."

My brow arched. "Who are you?"

The woman drifted to one of the windows and spread the thin, iridescent drapes aside, revealing a crisp black night. She inhaled, filling her lungs, then let out her breath with a whimsical sigh before she faced me again. "I am more like you than you know."

She took a step closer; I took a step away. "Larsson took you?"

"Oh, no. Not exactly." Silver rings adorned each of her fingers, catching the candlelight when she waved them about. "This is my home. Though I do not particularly care for some of the houseguests." She was oddly calm, yet a flicker of annoyance sparked behind the blue of her eyes.