Page 105 of The Stolen Crown

I positioned myself behind Mira until she settled on a bench, then placed myself between her and this Djur. A brute of a man. The way he was shaped, it seemed like he might have built the whole of the stone steps on his own.

“You are here in time for our nightly meal.” Djur waved one hand.

From the wings, men and women materialized holding trays and ewers with a steaming drink that smelled of sweet spice.

Under Djur’s murmured words, the feast was placed in front of us. Round loaves of dark bread, wedges of hard cheese, and some of the golden fruit from the garden.

Osatt and Aeika joined on the opposite side of the table. Next, a woman entered the hall, a beaded headdress draped over her long seafoam green hair. Her skin was pale as frost, and she bore a haunting look, like a stunning ghost. Her ears were tapered to a point. Around her neck was a long black chain with a dark glass talisman that reached the place over her heart.

All hells, the woman was a damn sea witch.

“You see, sea fae.” Osatt gestured at the woman. “Protection.”

A sea witch warded their kingdom. Why did the woman remain here with mortals?

Behind the witch, a young woman with eyes so blue they looked like new ice stepped into the hall, a burly man at her back.

“Ah. Meet my wife, Lena.” Djur pressed a kiss to the knuckles of the sea witch, then gestured to the younger woman. “And my daughter, Zara.”

Zara was not much younger than me. She had vibrant crimson hair that she kept coiled around her head, and large rings that touched her shoulders hung from her ears, which were rounded like her father’s. Likely not a shared daughter between the mortal and the sea witch.

Zara dipped her chin, a small smile on her lips, then took her place in a chair near Djur’s side.

The king gestured at the man who entered with the women. “My brother, Parek. A strong warrior and protector of the princess.”

Zara’s lip twitched, like she might wish to retort, but she bit her tongue.

Djur’s brother offered a brisk nod in a greeting. He was not as broad as the king and kept his dark hair loose about his shoulders. Clad in furs and leather, he looked ready for battle, not a meal.

The doors opened once more. Two men with spears strode inside, and between them was another woman. Like Zara, she was young, but taller. Her hair was golden, like the pomes on the platters. Even her skin seemed to shimmer in a gilded tone.

She beamed at the room, hugging a tome made of tattered leather against her chest, and kept pausing to push a pair of thin-rimmed spectacles up her slender nose.

Djur sat back and eyed the woman. “Pulled from her readings, at last.”

The others at the table chuckled.

“Apologies,” the new woman said. “I lost track of the time.”

“This, my friends,” said the king, “is Eeva. Our ward. A woman with love for, uh—how do you say it? Words. Sagas. Hard to pull her away from those.” The king pointed at the tome, chuckling.

“We have several friends of our own who also adore books,” Mira said with regal politeness.

I could not say the same for myself. Each new face added a harsher curl to my lip, as though at any moment, someone would make an attempt to spear Mira through the heart.

Eeva’s cheeks flushed. “I’m afraid it cannot be helped. I’m keen to learn anything; fable or history, it’s all so fascinating.”

Mira snickered. “My dear friend Sander would agree.”

Eeva smiled at Mira like my Vicious had bestowed the greatest of compliments. She pushed the spectacles back up her nose. Scrapes, still healing, covered her slender fingers. Golden tattooed vines coiled around her wrists and arms, unlike any ink I’d seen.

Eilifur was made of mortals. From what I could see, only Lena and Eeva were not. The slightest points to Eeva’s ears were visible. She could be part fae and part something else.

“It is wonderful to meet new folk.” Eeva took the seat beside Mira. “We rarely get the opportunity in these seas.”

My song was soft, and over the clatter of Djur and his folk pouring drinks into their horns and doling out bread onto their plates, no one heard the hum of my voice. Perhaps part of me kept seeking something out of sorts, some violent intent.

The only desires in the room were that of gratitude we’d arrived. Most overpowered by Eeva. Her truest desire was to befriend us both, but deeper, the woman desired love like she read in her books.