Page 182 of A Sea of Fate and Starfire

This was my favorite time of day. When the sun hovered low enough to melt into the surface of the ocean, light and water twirling as if they were created for the small chaos of changing each other’s shape and color for a few stolen moments each day. I leaned against the railing, keeping the wind company as it tousled my hair, wild from lovemaking and languishing amongst fur blankets. It had been a few days since the fistful of shield weed had been slathered over my face, but with the moon in shadow I’d only regained a bit of my water-calling. I played with the small amount of moisture that would answer, only enough to fill a thimble, tracing it in a sleepy line across the horizon, as though I, too, might join in with the sun and sea.

“Homesick?” asked a voice near the door.

A voice that did not belong to Kye.

79

Maren

Ispun, my small shred of water dropping to the stone floor. I’d learned long ago to train my ears for the presence of beating hearts whenever I entered a room, but I’d always allowed myself to let those defenses fall away here in Kye’s tower.

The King, dressed in a cobalt blue coat of velvet that was much too warm for the balmy evening, slid from the shadows. Emilius sighed as he joined me where I stood, leaning on his elbows over the railing, musing over the sunset. His arm ended at his wrist, wrapped neatly by white linen. It was nearly impossible to avoid staring at—the part of his body I’d stolen from him with Kye’s knife.

Heated metal bathed the air with the small gust that traveled in his wake. And though his shoulders sat relaxed and his tone had been soft, white bone bled through the skin across his knuckles.

“Yes. Quite often,” I answered, watching him from the corner of my eye.

Neither of us mentioned that he hadn’t been invited into the tower.

“You know, I’ve never been to the islands.” He paused to scratch his chin with the back of his fingers. “Have always meant to go. Never have.”

The proper response might have been an invitation to visit my home. I clamped my mouth over my tongue, unwilling to offer one.

“Probably would drown in the waters now, though, if I ever tried to swim there.” He lifted his maimed arm, the scent of his anger sharpening.

I turned to face him fully. Behind me, my hand curved over cool wrought iron, something in my blood calling for an anchor to solid ground. “Probably.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Has Nikolaos told you about the time he almost drowned?” From the gleam in his pale brown eyes, I knew he wasn’t referring to the day I’d pulled Kye from the water, but I let the sound of the sea and wind stretch between us. Emilius set his knuckles against his cheek in muted reverie. “He was about fourteen, I would guess, the first time he disappeared for a few days on one of his explorations. I’d expected to find him in the city, roaming through pubs or gambling halls or pleasure houses. But he’d spent four days in a crofter’s barn, and he returned with tan skin and cracked knuckles, like he’d rather play farmer than prince. I suppose I can’t be surprised, knowing his true lineage.”

He waited for me to respond to that. When I didn’t, he propped his maimed arm over the railing, leaning sideways to gather me within full view. “The counsel warned me of a wayward prince with wandering feet. That to the people of Calder, he made me appear soft at best. A fool, at worst. So I asked him to walk with me across the grounds to the stables, to tell me of everything he’d learned during his holiday from home.”

Eyes on the sun’s reflection over the wide panes of glass, Emilius smiled to himself. Every hair stood on end, my pulse a quiet whip in my ears. I slid my foot across the flagstones, quietly gaining inches away from him. He adjusted his weight over the rail, reclaiming them casually.

“I let him prattle on and on, thinking he’d talk about things like butchering cattle or laying field manure. But he began speaking of runrigs and tacksmen and land tenants, the poor quality of soil for root vegetables along the coast, and I realized”—he chuckled darkly again—“he’d mistaken my curiosity for a solicitation of his opinions regarding how to improve the living conditions of those unseen by the crown.

“That’s the problem with lending a member of the royal family a long leash. Everyone believes they can rule better than I can, but no one as much as those who were never in position to take the crown. I asked him if he’d want to return to the crofter’s house, to play farmer and raise cattle and break his back over fields year after year. And the little bastard looked me in the eye and said yes.”

His smile dropped, the scent of molten steel so sharp it stung my nose. “How ironic that, the next moment, he fell into a trough. For several minutes, if I remember. Couldn’t manage to climb out.”

I’d visited Kolibri at the palace stables enough to know the troughs were shallow, held together with cobblestones and cement no higher than my knee. Emilius’s stare bore into mine, daring me to clarify what was already clear.

The wary trickle of nerves flared into a wordless, violent heat, spiking my blood like poison liquor in a fountain. It twisted inside me, coiling and winding tight with anger.

“Smart boy, for a bastard,” Emilius continued, his voice dropping to a soft stroke against the thrum of the sea below. “He learned to sneak in and out after that. And he never spoke to me about improving my rule again. I always know when a subject is willing to learn from their mistakes. When they can take my word as guidance and mend their beliefs.”

“It must have been a strong word of guidance if he couldn’t climb out of a trough,” I finally said, the words snaking through my teeth.

His gaze slanted to mine. “It was.”

My shoulders tensed. Someone had driven a nail through them. A sharp steel rod, stabbing me with anger so hot it hurt to breathe.

Leihani? Kye’s voice rumbled sleepily into my head. Are you outside?

Emilius stepped closer, forcing me into the corner of the railing. “I can also tell when one of my subjects refuses to learn. When their mistake is irreparable. When they’re not worth retraining to obey. When I look at them and can only trust they might make the same mistake again.”

I stared at him, hard. Unflinching.

Emilius stared back, his heart a furious hammer I could feel through the air.