Page 84 of A Sea of Fate and Starfire

Everything’s fine, I answered, though it felt like plaster had been slathered over my skin. Emilius had strayed from my line of sight, unless I was willing to look up at him.

I was not.

I stared ahead instead, my fingers curved around the ends of the chair, stoking a fire that hadn’t yet lit within me. But every inflection of the King’s words, every reverberation of his heart, and every flick of his tongue hit me like strokes of iron against flint. Sparks begging to ignite.

“Look at me,” Emilius said, the pleasant ring of his voice leveling like a cold, precise knife.

My nails bit into the engraved wood at the edge of the table. I used it to stand, drawing myself tall and straight, laying my shoulders back. My jaw ached with the clench of my teeth, and light fizzled just beyond my fingertips, burning in the air.

“I assume you mean to threaten me,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Before you do, you should know my island never loved me. They probably celebrated my exit from their shores.”

Emilius smiled, though it looked painted on his face, his lips stretched so tight they shone like stained porcelain. “Do you love my son?”

Every response felt like a trap, baited by truth as much as lies. I had walked into cages before, and I didn’t doubt my ability to break free. But those two words echoed in my mind like a distant roar lost in the clouds. My son. Thunder rolled through my veins, cracking and clashing, each pulse of blood a louder roar.

Most humans relinquished a step under the glare I sent at him now. Their hearts beat faster, their breaths becoming shallow. Emilius tilted his head, running his tongue along his teeth, a roaming bump behind his upper lip.

“I don’t care if your island hated you. I care that you loved your island. And I need men, strong, healthy men, to fight for Calder.”

My voice lowered, a whisper laced with poison. “Leihani doesn’t answer to Calder’s wars.”

The King’s gaze traced down my collarbone to my arm. He lifted my hand, rotating it so my thumb stood upright. “Do you know what this is?” he asked as the sapphire of Kye’s mother’s ring glinted between us.

His warm, almost damp grip turned my stomach. “A premonition ring.”

He was so close, his eyes so hungry, I had to turn my cheek slightly, fighting the impulse to wring my hand away from his. “And do you know where it came from?”

“Cressi.”

Emilius’s teeth gleamed. “So he’s told you.” He turned our hands over, illuminating the heavy black diamond over his middle finger, set with spindly gold prongs like a cage of thorns. “Nikolaos’s great-grandmother was the daughter of a goldsmith and an alchemist. She learned the craft of each, surpassing the skill of every fine artisan in Cressi, gaining the attention of the Prince of Thieves. He announced she would be the only goldsmith he would commission, securing her a city of enemies. One of them burned her shop down, and she escaped the fire with a handful of tools and a face full of scars, her entire alchemist’s laboratory destroyed.”

He paused, his attention on his black gemstone, mouth softly agape. “Brido, would you come here?” Ashy eyes slid back to me. “The Cressians thought her ruined. But the Prince of Thieves brought her into his black market, showed her his stolen artifacts, many of them cursed and blessed by the Fates and our gods.”

The quiet servant strode into the room, halting on the other side of the table. He clasped his hands at his center, waiting for Emilius. The King ignored the man. “The Prince offered her a deal. If she could neutralize any danger from the cursed relics without harming the magic inside, he’d restore her shop. And if she could imbue that magic into jewelry, trap it within gold and silver and precious stones, he’d marry her.”

“Fascinating,” I deadpanned, pulling my hand from his.

“I’m not finished.” Emilius’s fingers clamped down on my wrist. “Thaan and I have been working together for years—”

Eyes wide, my attention snapped to a fine point at the mention of Thaan’s name. Electricity licked along my skin, cold water dripping from my fingertips as I snaked my opposite hand under the hem of my dress and around Kye’s knife.

He motioned to my chair. “Please sit.”

“I’ll stand,” I ground out.

Emilius’s smile didn’t twitch. He analyzed me in measured silence. “Brido, are you married?”

I’d forgotten the footman, a quiet observer on the opposite end of the room. Brido blinked in surprise, as though he’d forgotten himself as well. “Yes, your Majesty.”

The King adjusted his ring, swiveling the night diamond so that it sat directly over his knuckle like a dark, heavy crown. “Children?”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“How old?” Emilius flexed his fingers.

The footman’s gaze shifted to me and back to Emilius. The artery in his neck ticked. “Seven and three. And we have one more on the way.”

I swallowed, my throat tight with the sharp, bright scent of rising danger.