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The king did not want to show he was soft on anything, but he’d been uneasy at the thought of the other boy dying. It was clear in his rage, in his struggle to reach him.
I let the boy live, so the king let me live.
Now, no mistake, his risk was all for naught.
“This be a dreary day for the House of Kings,” the man went on, “but we brought you one of the earth fae.”
“Not just anyone. Look at the sod,” Gunnar murmured, a new, thick accent that matched the fae of the sea. “He be one who keeps nearest the royals.”
“What do we have here?”
Gooseflesh lifted on my arms. I hated the reaction to the bastard, but wretched and spineless as he was, he was still a horror from my boyhood. He was still the man who ripped away the king and queen from me—two royals who’d come to treat me as a member of their household.
This bastard was the one who’d stolen Calista away.
Davorin slicked his hands through his hair, dark eyes locked on me. He lowered his palms and slowly unsheathed a blade. “I asked for your blood. Well done.”
He looked to Gunnar, not considering for a moment he was anything other than sea folk.
“We’re not to be killing him straight off, are we?” Gunnar huffed and looked to the young king.
“Who are you to question?” Davorin’s voice was icy and filled with hate.
“I’m . . . I’m not, it’s just . . .” Gunnar leaned in, lowering his voice. “He was using one of the earthen fan’s strange trinkets. Think he wanted to bring them shadows that draw out their armies again.”
Davorin’s brow arched. Gods, I prayed those rune wards on the battle lord’s flesh only shielded against the blade. I prayed the next words would take and burrow into the bastard’s blood.
Gunnar’s whisper grew rough, demanding. “Just look at the ring on his finger.”
Unbidden, Davorin’s gaze fell to the queen’s ring. Greed and desire burned in his eyes.
Gunnar cleared his throat and went on, directing his words to the sea fae who hardly seemed to notice he’d addressed Davorin. The thieving prince had frightening magic, and I was glad for it.
“This scarred sod seems to be thinking his folk’ll come for him,” Gunnar said to the boy king. “Isn’t that what we want? The earth bender?”
Erik tilted his head. “Aye.”
“We want the realms,” Davorin hissed.
Erik Bloodsinger ignored him and studied Gunnar with a new scrutiny as the prince rambled on.
“So, if he’s dead, what’s to stop the earth bender from sinking us into his pit? If he’s alive, they’ll try to snatch him back, right? We’ll be able to lure them out.”
I held my breath when Gunnar faced the sea fae and battle lord without blinking. Now was the moment where we’d be found out, or our plans moved forward.
“You’ll let him live. You’ll place me as guard over where you keep him.” Gunnar didn’t flinch. He kept his body squared to Davorin. “You’ll keep that desire for the ring on his hand.”
There was a flicker of Gunnar’s eye color. As though the sea fae red was fading. Dammit, Ari would be fatiguing. We needed to move before Davorin noticed.
“Am I understood?” Gunnar finished.
Davorin glimpsed the ring and a twitch came to his mouth.
“Is it your word, sea king, that the prisoner remains breathing as bait?” Davorin asked, arrogance dripping in his tone.
Erik tilted the cup to his lips. “It is. Take him to Harald’s tent. You.” He paused in front of Gunnar. “What house are you from? Bones?”
Gunnar swallowed. “Aye.”
