Page 55 of The Stolen Crown

“Had to learn some boneweaving as a boy, is all.”

“Boneweaver” was the sea fae title for healers. In truth, I favored it and slipped up more than once back home, calling the Borough healer a boneweaver. The way Tait grew tense and looked away, it did not take much to guess he did not want any further prying into the reasons he would need to know about healing injuries.

“That was foolish of you,” he chided after a pause.

“I know.” I studied the ground.

“If you’d stop with your stubborn…I don’t know why you refuse to listen to me. Why must you always argue?”

Gone was the gentility, returned was the man who seemed like I was nothing more than a sharp thorn in his ribs.

I tugged on the end of my braid. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No.” He rose, laced his fingers behind his head, and paced in front of me. More words than I’d likely heard the man speak at once kept spilling out. “It’s as if you find it amusing to go against my every word. I said we’d find a way off, and I meant it. But I can’t do that if you rush out without even a word and do shit like this. We haven’t explored the entire isle, and I thought—good hells—I thought you’d fallen into the sinking sand or met some beast in the trees. It’s like you’re willing to risk your damn life just to prove you know best.”

“That isn’t why I—”

He reeled on me. “What were you trying to prove?”

“That I’m not weak!” I clapped a hand over my mouth, stunned at my own outburst. Tears blurred my sight. Truth had bubbled to the surface and I was…mortified.

I expected Tait to roll his eyes, call me a petulant royal, maybe walk away and wash his hands of me at long last.

Instead, his fiery gaze softened. “Who thinks you are weak?”

“You, I’m sure.”

“When have I ever said such a thing, Vicious?”

“I don’t know. Your eyes say it, I suppose.” My lashes fluttered, and shameful tears splashed onto my cheeks. “When I went out to gather water at sunrise, I saw the moss. It gave me an idea for rope and I wanted to…to prove I could be useful.”

“By risking your life?”

“I did not see it that way. Not at first. Then it was too late, and I determined it was better to be bold and finish what I started.”

“You wanted to prove you could finish the task more than climbing back down and at least seeing if I could help?”

I hung my head. “Shadows can be suffocating at times, Hearttalker. Some days, they make me more reckless than I ought to be.”

“What do you mean?”

I sniffed. “The weight of being a child of war enders. Of living in such a formidable shadow, well, it can be daunting.”

He hesitated. “War enders? You speak of your folk because—”

“My parents landed the killing blow against the man who brought war between our clans, the war we both recall so well? Yes, that is the wonderful, proud, heavy shadow of which I speak.”

“All earth realms fought,” he said, voice low.

“Yes, and I would never downplay the honor of the other royal houses, but fate chose my house to end it.” I blew out a rough breath. “My parents, like every royal house, are strong. They’re brave. They fought for their throne and never faltered. If they were here, they would not let something so trivial as falling from a tree stop them from fighting their way off this isle.”

Tait wore a scowl of agitation on his face, like he did not believe my reasoning. Perhaps it seemed foolish, but he did not know how convincing the mind could be. How desperately I needed to see that I lived up to the honorable legacy of my parents.

“You know, my mother was the one who took the dark fae’s head,” I said, uncertain why I kept speaking. “But Daj weakened him, then gave her the final strike, for she deserved it more than anyone.”

“Why is that?”

I shifted onto my knees. “That’s not important. But both my father and mother are considered the war enders because their sword fell on his neck.”