Page 26 of The Stolen Crown

Slow, steady, cautious—a beast with hackles raised—I turned around. The king of the glamour fae loomed two paces at my back. The man was built like he’d landed more than one killing strike in his life, and the eerie inked image of a raven on one side of his neck and jaw added a touch of something wild to his features.

His hair was a shade of gold. Damn. A golden king.

“King.” A crack in my voice gave up my unease. “Name’s Heartwalker, sire.”

The king’s eyes were dark, but there was a spark of amber in the shade, like he kept a flame barely contained lest his annoyance flare to life.

His eyes were burning now.

“I pride myself on being a stoic sort of man. I would never intrude when my voice isn’t needed, but there are those rare occasions when I must simply speak my thoughts.” The king grinned—well, bared his teeth would be more accurate. “You see, I found it necessary to descend from the very comfortable seat next to my wife, whom I might add believes me here to thank you for services rendered with the sea singer. However, I think I have a more pressing need to know why my daughter—a woman who takes great pleasure from these pointless balls—fled from her enjoyment.” He spoke through his teeth like a constant snarl. “After speaking to you?”

My mouth tightened. “I do not know, Highness.”

“What a pity. It’s disappointing you think me a stupid man.”

“No, I—”

“Let us try again.” The king’s voice was like barbs on iron. “I suggest you recall what upset my girl. Immediately.”

Words were sticky on my tongue. “I refused a dance.”

“Ah. See, now I am torn on how I should feel, for I am rather inclined to ensure you keep your hands off my daughter, but I also feel strangely violent that you have injured her happiness. How should I deal with such a conundrum?”

The king folded his arms over his chest, one fist pressed to his lips, as though thinking deeply.

I would take all the storms of the sea if I could but escape the man’s relentless scrutiny.

“I’ll ask her forgiveness.”

With the same fist in front of his mouth, the king pointed one finger at me. “Wise choice. I expect to see my daughter beaming from ear to damn ear, Harald’s son.” The glamour king leaned closer. “You might be the Ever King’s cousin, but it is not enough for me to simply accept disrespect toward my daughter. I assure you, there is not a single line I will not cross to see her at peace.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to cause offense.” Each word was gritted out. “I am only here at the word of my king and queen.”

For a long moment, he paused, studying me, cracking open my skull with his scrutiny. “Good. See that is all you are here for.”

He seemed ready to lash out and strike. The burn in his eyes spoke of rage. The sight of it caused blood to throb in my head, drew a painful itch along my skin. No, shit, no. Not here. Not bleeding now.

Panic, unease, and the need to step away from so many other folk always reared up without notice and throttled me from behind, tightening my throat, clouding my mind, until all I could think to do was escape.

As a boy, when the flare took hold, I would run from the great hall, barricade myself in my chambers, or crouch in the galley of the Ever Ship. As a man, I had to swallow it back, had to fight it, until I could break away, until I could snap behind closed doors.

Oftentimes, I’d slam a fist into someone’s nose, all to draw out blood. I’d take the initiative on behalf of the Ever King and slice off fingertips of anyone out of line, all so their screams would blot out the storm in my own mind. Or I’d run to the coves, dive into the tides, and drown out the noise, the pain.

I could do none of that here.

Fists clenched at my sides, I managed to take a step back. “If you’ll excuse me. It seems I’ve somewhere else to be.”

The king’s eyes narrowed, but as though he recognized the boil of nauseating disquiet swirling in my veins, his face almost softened when he said, voice low, “Good man. Ear to ear, Harald’s son. Ear to ear.”

I turned and strode toward the door. Only after I entered the back corridor did I let out a rough breath. One palm to my chest, I let my back fall against the wall and closed my eyes until the violent thrum of my pulse slowed again.

Until the pressure eased off my lungs.

My shoulders slumped and I dragged my palms down my face. What was behind the glamour king’s aggravation toward me?

I’d witnessed how he and the other kings interacted with the crew, with Sea Folk who’d stepped onto earth fae shores for trade or curiosity. By the hells, the glamour king had even gotten Erik to smirk from a jest more than once.

But not me. Never me.