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It was with hesitation, but soon enough the lot of us agreed. A cinch tugged at my chest as the sea fae boys were led through the hall. It felt wrong, almost cruel, but what could we do? Bloodsinger was quick, he was filled with hate, and he knew how to poison the whole damn palace if given the chance.
As he was led through, the young royals stopped to gawk, to catch a glimpse at a king who looked more like them than their parents.
Livia leaned around her father, watching the boy. More curious than the princess’s stare was when Bloodsinger glanced over his shoulder. Whether he sensed the eyes of another on him, or something else, he quickly found the Night Folk princess.
Livia peeled her gaze back to the table, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Erik narrowed his eyes, almost confused, before he was dragged out of sight.
“Tired at all?” Silas asked and pressed a kiss to my hand.
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Yes. I think I should like to wash and sleep for days. I hope you feel the same.”
“Why do you hope?”
I paused, tugging on his hand, and drew my lips close to his. “Because washing requires no clothing, and sleeping requires your body close to mine. I hope you are agreeable to this plan.”
A sly curve to his lips lifted the scar on his face. “Always, Little Rose.”
Chapter44
The Phantom
Valen and Stiegkept pace on either side of my shoulder.
“All the ships have left,” Valen said with a touch of disgust. “They simply left, like spineless sods.”
I felt much the same but didn’t see the need to repeat it. The spiral steps took us into the catacombs. The final cell door was guarded by a Rave warrior. At the sight of us, he dipped his chin and stepped aside.
“Certain about this?” I asked.
“No.” Valen shifted. “But I am told I must try.”
Stieg smirked. “Elise is persuasive.”
“Yes, she is.”
I shoved the door open with my shoulder. Light from the day brightened the cell, but it was still a prison. A miserly fur mat, a bucket for waste, and another for water. Half gone already. No mistake, the boy had been dousing his skin in the water more than wetting his tongue.
In the corner, Bloodsinger glared at us. Chains on his wrists, his bare feet dirty and bruised. On the stone floor beside him was a rolled scrap of parchment. The boy promptly tucked it away beneath his leg.
Valen let out a sigh and stepped forward. “King.”
The boy said nothing.
“We’ve come to negotiate peace. That is what kings do, after all.”
Again, nothing from the boy.
“Your folk are gone. They’ve sailed back through the Chasm, but you don’t seem surprised.”
Erik’s lip curled. His hair was tousled and dirty, and he kept scratching the back of his neck, like the ends irritated the skin there. Based on the number of scars on his flesh, it was probably likely the skin did aggravate him, even more so away from the sea like this.
“Your uncle was killed, I am told.”
Of course, we knew Harald was gone; we witnessed it, but it was a way to gauge the indifference or fear of the young king.
Erik’s mouth flinched. He turned to study the bones built into the wall. “What a pity.”
I glanced at Stieg. The boy seemed hardly bothered by Harald’s sudden demise.
