Page 35 of The Stolen Crown

The sky was a slate blue, the sun fading in the Far Seas, enough dusk to ignite the lanterns along the rail. Of course Mira had to aid the men in the task, chattering on about the lovely shade of blue-and-green fire in the Ever Seas.

The final blow came when Mira spoke after a simple evening meal of sea snake and boiled grains.

“You know what would be delightful?” She washed her hands free of the oils and crumbs in a rainwater pail. “Livie has told me so many of you can play a tune. I’d love to learn a shanty or two. Anyone game?”

“They’ve posts to meet,” I said in a low grumble.

“I’m aware, Hearttalker.” She lifted her chin in defiance.

Gods, her throat was trim and long, there for the taking. Much like it had been when I held a knife to it a day before.

The princess clapped her palms together and laced her fingers as she prattled on, “I’m certain we have a few clock tolls—”

“They be called chimes in the Ever, lass,” Seableeder said with a wink.

“Ah, of course. We have at least a chime before the night crew takes hold. Don’t we?”

Was she…fluttering her damn lashes at me?

It worked. Her play at innocent and sweet whipped every gaze from every man my way, as though daring me to refuse their girl.

Traitors, the lot of them.

When I did nothing but tighten my jaw until a muscle bulged on the hinge, attention returned to the princess, and my command disintegrated.

First, Nightseer scurried to snatch his godsdamned panpipe. Next, Seableeder pounded the top of a barrel with his rough palms. The last to join in was Boneseer, a surly old ass whose lips were permanently stained a shade of puce from indulging in a favored beet rum every visit to the Tower.

The man had a voice that could see the bones through the flesh, giving him opportunity to make a perfect strike with the stone mallet he carried on his belt. More than violence, Boneseer had a knack for storytelling and often painted whimsical, horrifying tales that usually ended with a ship’s destruction.

He hurried belowdecks and took out a battered harp of sorts from his hammock. It was out of tune and plucky, but I knew he’d bartered the damn thing back at my seventeenth turn, insisting it’d belonged to his long-lost mate.

I was certain he’d never had a mate, likely wouldn’t know what to do with one, but it was the lone time the fool bore a whimsical sort of look. He’d strummed those strings until the high moon, humming until the whole of the Ever Crew found slumber to a somber tune.

“This lovey has a wild heart, a bold heart,” Boneseer said in his rough voice. “What say ye, lads? Shall we sing her The Summons?”

A few rumbles of feigned apprehension rolled down the deck. My grip tightened on the handles.

Fireweaver shouted from the far deck, “You want to put your luck in the horrors of the Far Seas? Testing the gods tonight, lad.”

Boneseer and a few other crewmen only chuckled and looked at Mira again, almost testing her.

“What’s The Summons? Sounds fearsome.” Mira looked around. Her smile was light and free, but I took note of the way she clutched her skirt, a signal I’d learned that meant she was unsettled.

I’d picked up on the tell when we’d been forced to join as reluctant allies to hunt for the Ever Queen. Not that I was studying her back then for any deeper reason than to understand an enemy. And it wasn’t like I studied her now—simply noticed, was all.

Boneseer wiggled his fingers in front of her face. “Ah, now The Summons be an old legend of the Far Seas, long before the Ever Kingdom rose from the depths. Lore says, should it be sung, ye might catch the ear of the great serpent of the gods.”

“Jormungandr?”

“Aye, lovey. Tales say he might even devour you and drag you to the dark seas of the Otherworld lest you can outsail him.” Boneseer flashed his yellowing teeth. “What d’you say? Shall we take the risk?”

“Riskin’ all yer necks,” Fireweaver muttered.

“Ah, come off it.” Seableeder waved one hand at his fellow crewman. “Tellin’ me yer afraid of a song?”

Fireweaver tossed up one hand. “Well, the tales come from somewhere, don’t they?”

Seableeder shook his head and turned away. “Don’t be listenin’ to him, lass. Fireweaver be more superstitious than the rest of us.”