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Until Celine led me down the staircase and I was faced with the Ever King again.
Erik leaned against a post, arms folded over his strong body, a smirk on his scarred lip. The scars he insisted were put there by the people I loved.
My folk were brutal, to be sure, but I prayed their viciousness had not truly maimed an innocent. If it was true, then part of me could not entirely blame Bloodsinger or his wretched father for all that had happened.
“Sleep well, love?” His eyes roved over my figure, halting on his shirt. A flash of heat—or rage—filled his gaze.
“I slept horribly, thank you. I’m told I begin my servitude today.”
Erik chuckled. “The way you speak, it’s as if you cannot wait until I put a chain around your neck.”
“I never was one for patience.” Backed into a corner, unarmed, surrounded by endless seas, the only thing I seemed unable to do was cease talking. As though my tongue yearned to antagonize the man who held my damn life in his hands.
Bloodsinger didn’t seem ready to gut me for it, even looked amused. “When you sail on the Ever Ship, you’re given a duty, be it king or crew. We work as one, or we don’t live long. There are two positions open, and I thought you’d take to a galley hand with Sewell better than the other option.”
Bloodsinger shouldered his way through a door on loud hinges into a narrow cooking room. Near an odd iron box with a few pieces of hot charcoal placed inside, a man with a strong face and distant eyes spun around. He grinned, revealing white teeth but for the one made of gold in the front. “Little eel. Taste me cod?”
“Haven’t had the pleasure today.” Erik tugged me against his side. “Sewell, I’ve brought you company until we reach home, and—”
“Taste me cod, little eel?” His nose wrinkled, his teeth bared.
“Gods, I said not yet.”
Sewell’s eyes flashed, but he turned around, muttering about ungrateful eels, and wiping down the stove with a dirty towel. He’d yet to even look at me.
Bloodsinger nudged me forward. “Do as Sewell says, love.”
“I’m to be alone with him?”
“Frightened?”
“If you must know—” I paused to swallow and lowered my voice, “he doesn’t exactly seem pleased to have a companion. What was the other option?”
“Ah, one of the men reminded me of the honorable tradition of a shipwife.”
“A what?”
Bloodsinger’s grin widened until I caught sight of the sharp point of his canines. “The lady of the ship. It can be lonely on these longer voyages, Songbird.”
Bile burned my throat.
“I’m going to wager you choose to stay with Sewell, yes?”
“Yes. I choose Sewell over your damn bed.”
“I suppose there is always time to change your mind.” Bloodsinger stepped toward the door. “Sewell has sailed the Ever since the reign of Thorvald. He once knew his way around a sword better than any man I know until a rock smashed his head. Compliment his cooking, do as he says, and he’ll take to you fine. Don’t upset him; the crew values his feelings more than yours.”
In a moment of desperation, I snatched Erik’s hand. A faint glimmer of the strange spark I’d felt when Erik kissed me scorched through my palm. “Where are you going?”
“To the helm.” He brushed a knuckle over my cheekbone, an irritating grin on his face. To Sewell, he tacked on, “Keep her breathing.”
“Did ye try me cod, little eel?” Sewell asked.
The king was already gone.
The bastard left me without another bleeding word of . . .guidance,I supposed. How twisted my world had become when my heart reeled into a panic at the absence of Erik Bloodsinger.
The galley was a narrow space, but oddly tidy. Iron pots and pans hung over a chopping block. Clay bowls, wooden plates, horns for drinking, and tin cups were arranged in orderly crates.
