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There was nothing delightful about cutting a man down when he was already on his damn knees. The chase, the fight, the knowledge that you overpowered a foe, was half the excitement.
On deck, two of my crew held a half-naked man between them. I dragged two fingers across the brim of the tricorn hat atop my head and pulled it off, revealing the black scarf that always covered my skull when I stood aboard the ship.
The scar cutting through my lip went taut when I curved one side of my mouth. “Lord Murdo.”
Both points of the man’s ears had been sliced. The slight blue-cream shade to his skin was darkened in blood. He lifted his head with effort and met my eyes. “My K-King.”
I curled one hand under his bearded chin. “Your King? Is that what I am?”
“Yes,” he said, breathless.
“Hmm.” With care to hide the bite of pain in my left leg, I lowered to one knee until we were nose to nose. There it was. Gods, the fear flashed vibrantly in the dull gold of his eyes. Without care for the gashes on his scalp, I slammed the tricorn onto his head. “What I think, is you wanted this for yourself.”
Murdo’s forehead wrinkled. “No, My Lord.”
“Oh, I think you did. Why else would you be so foolish to steal from your king?”
“I swear to you, I did no such thing.”
From the back quarters of the ship, Larsson, my second in command, stepped onto the deck. He always seemed ready to laugh through the violence. This moment was no exception. A wry grin played on his mouth, and the slight glow of gold in his dark eyes was bright with excitement.
Beside Larsson stood a stoic man, hair like fire, and ears pierced in blue stones from lobe to the sharp tip. For a moment I reveled in Murdo’s twisted glare from the betrayal.
“I don’t believe you, since your bastard sold you out.” I leaned forward, lips against his ear, and whispered, “Pity your son hates you.”
“Athol, you traitorous—”
A closed fist slammed into Murdo’s jaw, silencing him.
I glared over the man’s head at the masked face, hidden beneath a hood. Celine gave me a one-shouldered shrug in return. She was dressed in a thick tunic, topped with a woolen coat that hit her thighs. No one at first glance would know a woman was beneath it all. She preferred it that way.
Folk of the Ever always underestimated females. Her twisted delight came in revealing herself before she drew her blade. To end a man with the look of stun still on his face kept Celine grinning for weeks.
“Athol has brains, unlike you, Murdo.” I clenched my teeth as I stood, careful not to show the fire of pain in the bones of my weak leg. A glimpse of weakness, and I’d be dealing with nothing but assassins come to slaughter their pitiful king. “You took what did not belong to you, and it truly makes me dream of what my blade would look like sticking out of your eye socket.”
Murdo blanched. “The witch . . . she needed a cherished possession of . . .”
“Of what?” I folded my arms over my chest. “Don’t stop there, keep talking. Whose possession did you need?”
“The king’s.”
“That’s right. Theking.” I gripped his hair and wrenched his head back until he met my gaze. “You were duped by a half-wit spell caster. You think the lady of the House of Mists has not used her fiercest witches to heal this land? You think you will be the one to do it?”
“What choice do we have,My King? You might control the Ever Sea, but you don’t know how to heal it either. Like you, we’re all trapped in this dying land. Forgive me for not being willing to give up just yet.”
I didn’t need to look to know the rot was there. Deadened forests covered half the Rusa isles. Charred foliage, fruit trees, and crops were brittle and worthless. Even some of the springs and coves in the distant isles had darkened, spilling out decaying fish and eels, unfit to eat.
Rusa was not the first to be claimed by the poison.
I wanted Murdo’s tongue, but only because he spoke the truth. Turns after earth fae sealed off the Chasm, something had shifted in the Ever Kingdom. An imbalance grew between worlds, and a poison took root.
I’d hunted for answers, pillaged and thieved for lore and artifacts. The only hope for healing I had left was the power gifted to the former king by the most powerful of sea witches. A gift that strengthened the Ever King, and what I needed now was more damn power.
The lost mantle of my father was a talisman with power unmatched, meant to be used by the true Ever King.
The trouble was I could not reach it. A price was placed upon such a gift. Should it be lost, the mantle could not be taken back for ten turns. A punishment for being foolish enough to lose the gift of a sea witch, I supposed. The earth fae had now owned my father’s power for twenty.
Ten turns ago, the opportunity to challenge had been there, and I let it slide through my fingers by making a different choice. A choice that now led to the destruction of my own kingdom.
