Page 64 of The Stolen Crown

A strange sound gurgled in Mira’s throat, like a sob and squeal of joy collided. “I knew it! Where do we begin?”

“It’ll take time and tools. We won’t be sailing by the morrow.”

The way Mira looked back at me, she understood, but disappointment still shadowed her gaze. “I am not ashamed to admit I know very little about boatbuilding. I fear I must defer to you on this. What can I do to help?”

“Was it hard, Vicious? Saying all that?”

“Utterly horrific.”

I felt the corners of my lips curving upward. I peered over the pond. From beneath the crystal surface, a flutter of creatures was visible. Fish of all colors and shapes thrived here. “I can work on piecing together a solid skiff while your wrist heals. You can feed us.” Mira followed my gesture to the pond. “Weren’t you bemoaning the challenge of catching fish in the tides only yesterday? I assume you can fish in still water, yes?”

Mira lifted her chin and grinned. “You’ll be stunned by my ability soon enough, Hearttalker.”

We spent the evening disassembling the skiff using weathered tools found in the village.

The wood was split and cracked from disuse and remained half-submerged in the water all this time. Rot ate away much of the stern, but after digging in the damp soil with one of the spades, we found malleable clay perfect for patching the smaller holes.

With a few alterations to the design, I had confidence the vessel could be strengthened enough to sail on the open sea.

By the time the last glimmers of sunlight lingered in the sky, most of the rotted stern was broken off and the remaining boat rested on the shoreline. We’d taken our fill of supplies from the abandoned cottages—wooden bowls, waterskins, clothes, a set of fine coral hairpins Mira placed in her braid, five large fish, and an armful of the glimmering fruit.

“What is this?” Mira adjusted a new dress, a size too big, and plucked the tome I found off the ground.

“I discovered it in a cottage. Thought it might tell us about the isle, but it’s written in a language I don’t understand.”

A groove formed between Mira’s brows. “It’s Old-World tongue.”

I went still, a satchel we’d found in a cottage dangling from my hand. “You can read it?”

She nodded. “My mother is from the oldest bloodline in the earth realms. This is the language from her childhood. She taught me.”

“Old World is from centuries ago.”

“I know.” Mira sat atop a stone and opened the book, her dainty fingers trailing over the dusty parchment. “My mother lived in the courts before the earth fae realms were divided. Back when there was only one kingdom. She’s the oldest earth fae royal. Didn’t you know?”

“I didn’t.”

A memory cut across my mind, a conversation Harald once had with the dark earth fae. The day I learned his name was Davorin. He boasted of his glorious title once held in the fae courts of old. A time when one kingdom connected all earth fae. It was the reason the dark fae manipulated Sea Folk into joining him in battle. He desired to restore one kingdom beneath his rule, a true tyrant.

I thought of the glamour queen’s scars. Was it possible she lived alongside that creature who caused so much bloodshed? I didn’t ask.

Mira peered at the pages again. “I can read some of this.”

I sat across from her on another stone and leaned forward over my knees, waiting.

Mira squinted and tilted her head. Sometimes she would dig her top teeth into her bottom lip, and I found it difficult to look away.

“It’s interesting,” she said after a long silence. “This reads a bit like a history someone was keeping. Like a village elder or a scribe.”

“Common. Sagas are part of all our realms, are they not?”

Mira propped her chin on the heel of her hand and crossed one leg over her other knee. “I can’t understand some of the meaning in their experiences, but it seems these folk believed they communed with actual children of the gods.”

I drifted to a nearby stone and leaned closer, following where she pointed on the rough, aged pages. “Gods?”

“See this symbol?” She tapped her fingertip against a line of runes. “It tells of the day ships appeared, so ‘mighty and fine’…no, ‘grand’…well, perhaps it does mean ‘fine craft.’ Anyway, the scribe insists great beings, ‘mighty folk,’ strode onto the shore. They feasted, they remained for…I think it says, ‘weeks,’ could be ‘months.’ The newcomers brought with them ale so sweet, the clan believed it to be from the hall of the gods.”

Mira waggled her brows.