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Breath quickened in my chest; blood raced to my fingertips. Tait Heartwalker and his skeleton crew stepped into the scrutiny of the ballroom.

Hums and whispers rippled through the crowd. Ladies dipped their silver-adorned heads, and men stepped forward to greet the faces of the Ever King’s crew, no doubt looking for some sort of leverage to place them in the good graces of Bloodsinger.

Perhaps Tait was not the king, but to folk in my kingdom, he was nearest to claiming the crown after Livia. The more ambitious glamour fae would believe Heartwalker could be a bridge to favor in the glittering realms of the Sea Folk.

If only they knew how wretchedly ill-tempered he was.

“Three hells, he is edible, is he not?” Tobias ran his tongue over his lips, likely unbidden, and the narrow slits of the black centers of his eyes pulsed.

Try as I did to be witty and combative, all I managed was a mournful sort of sigh. “Alas, I fear you’re right.”

Damn the man and his beautiful face.

Like a dark dance, the sea fae sauntered into the ballroom. There was a way Sea Folk moved—steady, sure, but mighty and swift. A bit like the tides at the shore.

The crew attending with Heartwalker were all blood sworn to the Ever Ship. I’d spoken to each of them many times, not only when I sailed about with the Ever King during visits with Livia, but as they traveled to and from the different kingdoms in the earth fae realms.

Most of the men were burly and roughened in voice and appearance—wiry beards, missing pieces of their ears, some broken teeth. But each man carried with him a bit of roguishness, and I had few doubts why the Ever Crew was often surrounded by hopeful lovers whenever they made berth.

As though sensing my attention, a man named Seableeder winked my way and wiggled his fingers in greeting. I grinned with a touch of slyness and bent one finger in a subtle, hidden wave.

Seableeder was a stout man with a voice that stole brine from the sea. He could then infuse the salt into the blood of his enemies until his victim’s own veins grew toxic and they stopped breathing.

No doubt he singled me out for the sole reason that Seableeder and I were embroiled in a never-ending game my folk called King of the Knoll. Played with wooden dice, the numerals were classified in different categories of challenges, and the one rolling the dice was tasked with selecting a challenge for their opponent.

A winner was only crowned when the opponent conceded and refused to complete a challenge.

The game could be endless in theory, for if no one conceded, the dice continued to roll and challenges would be leveled until failure or death.

Unfortunately, Seableeder was as determined to win as I was.

Since we met aboard the Ever Ship, I’d eaten whole beiskr fish, acrid little creatures with slimy scales. Seableeder had dressed in one of my gowns and strolled across the deck of the royal ship. I even sang atop a table at the Tower—a debauched tavern in the Ever Kingdom—as though I were a siren.

I rolled the dice last. A numeral amounting to five, so my challenge to Seableeder had to fulfill one of three things: face a fear, declare a passion of the heart, or complete something he had never attempted before.

I saw the way the man always looked at a certain tavern maid at the Tower and had grand plans to make him confess the truth of his heart when we stopped on our way to the Royal City.

Perhaps Tait would read his truest desires to see that Seableeder genuinely completed his challenge.

I frowned. Tait Heartwalker, no doubt, would rather fling himself overboard than participate in any games with me.

“One of your admirers.” Tobias lifted his chin toward Seableeder.

“Tobias, I plan to have every man in the Ever fall in love with me before the frost months, didn’t you know?”

“That, I’d love to see.”

Stormbringer and his crew from the House of Blades went to meet their fellow sea fae, shouldering out the curious spectators of the ballroom. When it seemed the Sea Folk would greet each other longer than they hoped, guests returned to their spinning, laughter, and levity.

Well, all except me. I could not seem to find the will to turn away.

Tobias used his elbow to nudge my ribs. “Stare any harder, My Wicked Princess, and you might be accused of fawning.”

I clicked my tongue. “Don’t be vulgar. I would never fawn.”

Tobias laughed, and as though he sensed lightheartedness that must be stopped, Tait glanced over his shoulder and glared in our direction. His honey-red gaze lifted—agonizingly slowly—and locked with mine.

My delight snuffed out like a flame against a cruel gust of wind. If the expression Tait wore moments ago could be named a scowl, now his face was twisted into something like a grimace. As though the sight of me left a sour taste on his tongue.