Page 169 of The Stolen Crown

“I care if he dies,” Erik snapped. “He’s the only one who can sail the Ever Ship as well as me. You can’t just teach such a thing to anyone.”

“And if the king dies, it’s an uproar in the kingdom, and I would rather not deal with the politics of it all,” said Tait.

I tossed my hands in the air. “I give up. You’re both hopeless.”

Tait grinned but let it fade when he faced his cousin. He held out one arm. “Thank you. Would’ve lost my head if you’d arrived any later.”

Erik grunted, then slowly clasped his cousin’s forearm. But it did not end there.

My heart swelled when, slowly, Bloodsinger tugged on Tait, and Tait tugged on Erik until they both stood a pace apart and hooked arms around each other’s backs. It was not a close embrace; in fact, it looked horribly awkward. The Ever King and his cousin clapped each other’s backs like they might catch fire if they touched for too long.

They promptly pulled apart.

Bloodsinger adjusted his headscarf. Tait studied his bloodstained fingernails.

It would do for now.

“Mira!” My mother rushed for me. My father strode behind her. For a brief pause, my maj clasped my face in her palms, then moved to embrace Tait. “Heartwalker, I am so glad you are well. The things I heard—gods, I wasn’t certain we’d make it in time.”

Tait winced but held my stare. I reached for his hand, hoping to soothe the rolling unease I was certain built in his veins the longer my mother held him.

“All right, Maj.” I made a nudge to pull her away. “Let the man breathe.”

She grinned a little sheepishly. “I’m just glad you’re all right. And you, my girl.” She squeezed my palm. “I lost sight of you for too long.”

“Oh, I simply wanted some time alone with the man.”

My father made a sound like a growl, but he disregarded the insinuation and held out an arm for Tait. “Glad you’re still breathing. It would’ve been a rather dreary journey back home if it’d gone differently.” Daj paused. “I know you gave yourself up to keep them from Mira. I was tepid about you at first, as you know, but if you’re wondering, that act alone will earn you my loyalty. It’s a grand thing to have. By the way, are you certain by being the Ever King’s cousin you do not have some grand estate, perhaps your own territory that has a bountiful crop production?”

Nearby, Jonas muffled a laugh against Skadi’s shoulder.

Tait’s brows tugged together. “No, Highness. I sail the Ever Ship. That is my duty as the king’s cousin.”

My father clicked his tongue. “Well, that’s a pity. My fellow kings have both garnered whole kingdoms with their alliances, and they do like to rub it in my face.”

“They do not, Daj,” I said.

Jonas hummed. “I think sometimes my daj does like to remind Ari he now has an elven isle within our territories.”

“Exactly.” My father opened one arm. He smirked and pressed a kiss to my brow. “Alas, I am satisfied if my girl is satisfied.”

I slipped my fingers into Tait’s and nodded. “I am, Daj. Immeasurably.”

My father encircled my mother’s waist and tugged her against his side, smiled for a breath, then said, “You’re certain you have no bloodline gemstones, Heartwalker? Even a ship in your name?”

Laughter followed, and for the first time since stepping foot on the shores of Eilifur, darkness faded.

Mortals filled the ships of the Ever. From the dawn after the battle to the lowering sun, the people were allowed to gather belongings from their homes, then brought to the shore in groups and boarded onto the ships.

Soon, they could learn how mortal and fae lived together across kingdoms. Lifespans could be lengthened through spells, rituals—even certain vows extended the short turns of a mortal.

The docile, less threatening people joined the various crews on the upper decks. Young ones with curious thoughts tentatively studied the way sea fae handled their ships and rigging and sails.

Bolder mortals who spat insults we could not quite understand were bound and kept in brigs under guard.

Tait kept his arm around my shoulders and watched over the rail of the Ever Ship as flames licked up the walls of the Head House of Eilifur. Men ran through the gates of the golden garden with torches in hand, destroying the shrubs, the trees, the sweet pomes.

The isle would burn into nothing but a blackened shell, empty and abandoned to the Far Seas. But the pain, the bloodshed, the torture of fae and magic folk would live on in dreary tales, in shanties sung beneath the stars, I had no doubt, for turns to come.