Page 83 of The Stolen Crown

Drops of water battered my face. I kept blinking rapidly, attempting to see through the storm. My wet hair stuck to my face like a new layer of skin.

By the time Tait rounded the bend leading to our small cavern, I could not stop laughing at how ridiculous we must look.

Inside the cavern, Tait deposited me on the ground. He ran his hands over his head, slicking back his hair, then leaned one shoulder against the wall until I could catch my breath.

“Another adventure we’ve had.” I hugged my knees against my chest.

Rain cascaded over the ledge like a beaded doorway.

Across the sea, lightning flashed. I let my cheek fall to the top of one knee and smiled. “When I was a girl, storms would frighten me and Maj. My father would always make a game of every storm. He’d stir me from my bed at the first sound of thunder and lead us both to the balcony of the palace with a view of the shore. Daj would have all these sweets and berries, and whoever guessed which place lightning would strike next would get to have one.”

Tait didn’t speak but sat down beside me, watching the storm.

“I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was his way of making something terrifying a little safer. Now I love to watch storms. Don’t mistake me, I did not love the storm that wrecked the ship, but”—I peered over at him—“I don’t mind this one.”

Tait took hold of my hand as though it were something we’d always done.

“Storms in the Ever were always wild, but I loved them too,” he said. “Storms meant seeing to the docks, ensuring wave barriers were in place. They kept Harald occupied. I got to slip out and have a bit of peace.”

Unbidden, I lifted the back of his knuckles to my lips and kissed him there. Tait watched, pupils blown wide, but did not pull away.

“Do you have any good memories with him?”

“Few,” Tait said. “He once was a kind father, before Thorvald died.”

“You said that was the day your father began hating you.”

“It was the first day he struck me.”

I cursed under my breath, then rested my head on his shoulder.

“I excused it at first,” he said. “Believed he was lost in grief because his brother was killed, but it never stopped. When we returned, I was banished from the room where I used to play with my cousin. Harald burned all the toys Erik’s mother gave the both of us, then he was forced to learn the blade the moment he turned five.”

“And you were kept apart?”

“Every time I tried to speak to Erik, Harald would beat me. It didn’t take long to convince me to stay away.”

“Gods, how pretentious I feel.” I tightened my hold on his hand. “Rambling on about stormy games while your life was so…different.”

“I like to hear about you and your life, Vicious.” Tait placed his cheek on the top of my head. “Childhood wasn’t horrid every moment. I found time at night to slip out. I learned to love the stars, the silence. Alone at night, I could be anyone. A foreign king, a warrior, a god. Sometimes Gavyn or Celine would find me and play games. Once Sewell joined them, he taught me how to dodge Harald’s fists without making it too obvious so the blow wouldn’t snap too many bones.”

Those were his joyous moments? Two other littles becoming his friends in the shadows?

Celine and Gavyn were never welcome to claim each other, nor Sewell, their father. Not until Erik and Livia won the battles of the Ever and changed laws. Sewell betrayed King Thorvald’s order to slaughter his mate like Harald and the dead Ever King. A traitor, hidden in plain sight by Erik Bloodsinger after Tait’s father tortured Sewell.

Tait’s pleasant thoughts of the past involved learning how to avoid beatings. I thought I might want to storm the Otherworld all to destroy his father again.

“What was your favorite thing to do?” I asked. “On those nights, if you could do anything, what would you have done?”

“Tell tales.”

I lifted my gaze. “Tales?”

“Aye. My favorite nights were when Harald would leave the palace for duties elsewhere. Some of the crew, sometimes Gavyn, even Erik joined once or twice, would gather by the coves, light a fire, and we’d sit there telling fanciful tales of lore. Far-off seas with glittering castles filled with fair maidens. Or lands with serpents and fire-breathers. Or how the first sea witches came to be.”

“You’re a reader like Skadi and Sander?”

“No.” Tait shook his head. “I’ll leave that to the elven queen and the alver prince. It’s the storytelling I loved. Every man recited a tale differently. You’ve seen some of it on the ships. Tales are part of the crew.”