Page 32 of The Stolen Crown

He chuckled. Not the kind sort. Soon enough, I saw why. In his opposite hand, Tait held a knife—my knife, the first one I’d used to threaten him.

The cretin had the audacity to run his tongue over the smooth side of the blade. “Not a chance.”

My teeth ground together. I took hold of my dagger and lunged.

We collided.

Sea fae were masters at footwork. I believed the reason to be because most of their battles were had on decks of rocking ships.

Tait was taller, stronger, and perhaps cleverer with his feet, but I’d long ago learned to use my slight frame as a weapon. I skidded to my knees when he moved to take my dagger. He reeled back without a pause. In quick steps, I was upright again and slashed at his chest.

Tait dodged. I jabbed. He kicked. I struck.

Muscles in my shoulders throbbed from reaching upward to match his strikes. Gods, the man was bleeding tall. My middle clenched the more I ducked to escape his smooth blows. Our battle was more dodging each other than actual blade on blade. As though he could not bear the thought of me touching him, Tait would strike, then spin away before I could parry.

He took a swift kick at my ankles. I scurried atop a tall boulder, at long last towering over him. For a single heartbeat, Tait was turned away, leaving me room to leap upon him from behind, to bring him to the ground.

I did just that.

No thought, no strategy, I leapt from the boulder onto Tait’s back.

He cursed me and staggered forward, his hands immediately gripping my forearms hooked around his neck.

Victory was there, close enough to taste the sweet honey of it, then it was snatched away when my world spun around me. I let out a shriek of surprise when my head fell forward over Tait’s shoulders, my feet flinging up into the air right behind, and in the next instant, my back slammed onto the trodden soil.

My lungs wheezed from the impact, but my breath caught when Tait’s body made a cage over me. His face was close, his eyes narrow. Lips parted. Noses nearly brushing. His exhales were heavy, exerted. They tangled with mine.

I swallowed and felt the sharp edge of my knife against my own throat. His other hand was curled in my hair, tugging at the roots so I was forced to arch my neck.

Our hips were aligned, and the frantic beat of his heart danced against the spot where my breasts smashed into his chest. One of his sturdy thighs was tucked between my own, adding too much pressure, drawing too much heat.

I could not even stop the hum of desire to care that he’d won. There was a relentless swirl of warmth low in my belly. I thought with a touch of wonder as to what it might feel like if Tait Heartwalker used those hands on my skin in other ways.

My tongue darted out, tracing the line of my lips, and for the first time I dared meet his gaze. The black centers in the bloody gold of his eyes were tight. Sweat dripped down the edge of his jaw, and I did not miss the way he dropped his attention to my mouth, lingering for half a breath.

Keep quiet. Keep bleeding quiet. “Why do you act like you hate me, then look at me in such a way?”

I was not a fool, I was not imagining it. Tait’s body stiffened. His next breath shuddered. Soon enough, the brief softness of his gaze was replaced with the familiar disdain. “You lost.”

He pulled back the knife and slid off my body. The loss of his weight brought an unfortunate longing I could not puzzle out, lest an ache form in my skull.

On his feet, Tait used the back of his arm to wipe the sweat off his chin, then tossed the knife into the soil, the point stabbing in the ground near my head.

He took long strides away from me, stretching and curling his fingers, as though my touch, my nearness had brought him some sort of agony.

“Be ready to sail at midday” was all he gritted out before he peeled away into the trees.

I closed my eyes, still sprawled out on the soil, heart abusing my ribs. What a fool I’d become. Desiring a man who did not, or would not, feel the same. Why did I fancy Tait at all? He was rude, smoked a great deal, barked commands, and seemed to expect the worst in every soul.

But against my will, he spoke to my heart.

From the moment the sea singer first held me in his trance in the Ever, something unlocked within me and drew me toward the Ever King’s cousin. Tait was a heart talker. At least for me.

How cruel it was that our every interaction was rife with biting words and snarls of resentment. All I could do to protect my shameful heart was bite back, taunt, try to disregard the man with as much ferocity as he disregarded me.

What mischievous games the Norns had played with me. All I’d ever desired was a love like that of my mother and father. A true hjärta, an earth fae term that meant a love so fierce, so passionate, so true, it was like a soul found an unbreakable harmony with another.

Now the only man who’d pierced my heart seemed ready to retch at my touch.