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A gleam of excitement brightened her eyes. For the few breaths it took to pour the oil over the stones, she forgot to detest me.
Her mouth parted. “What happened to it?”
The cinder stone had hardened and enlarged now that the oil sopped into the porous outer layer. Instead of a pliable, glowing stone, it was a dark shade and solid as iron. I tossed the pellet between my hands. “Scald leaf oil reacts to the elements of the cinder stone. It hardens the pores and cracks, swells, and becomes rather impenetrable.”
“And these are what you fire?” She pointed at the barrel.
“Impressed?”
She ignored the question and hurried on. “But how does it fire? How does it travel the distance being so heavy? With such a weight the power of the blast must—”
“Be fierce,” I interrupted. “It is. Here is what is called the touchhole.” I patted the opening on the barrel. “We hold a flame to it, and when the heat mingles with the skald leaf oil, it bursts. The spear fires the blast forward. You won’t blow off your hand unless you place it in front of the mouth.”
Livia touched the iron. “And how far can they go?”
“Fifty paces. More with decent aim and fair wind.”
She grinned, inspecting the curves, bolts, and details of the barrel. “All right, Ever King. These arepossibly,slightlyintriguing.”
I hated how her lax praise still felt like a brilliant victory.
“But,” she went on, moving toward one of the sharp spines on the hull, “you’ll never convince me these odious things are pleasant to look upon.”
“Those odious things,Princess,” I insisted. “Are part of an array of history. Every spine represents an Ever King. With each new claim comes a new spine. This ship has seen many kings for thousands of turns. They never cease growing, love. They are the shield, the blade, the power of this ship, and they deserve your respect. Tell them they’re beautiful.”
Livia snickered and my chest tightened.
“Forgive me,” she whispered to a long spine. “You’re so ugly, you’re almost lovely.” She looked at me, rather pleased with her slight, then touched the shattered spine near her hand. “Not as impenetrable as the pellets, I see. What happened here? One of your endless enemies break it off?”
Tension snuck up behind and throttled me. A cutthroat reminder of the distance I should keep. “Yes.”
The word was stacked in something harsh and cruel. Livia’s smug grin faded.
“The spines crack when a king is defeated,” I said, voice rough. “That was the spine that grew when my father was crowned as king. It broke at his death. You see, they fracture like a weak thing, for an Ever King should never be bested.”
She took a step back and offered the broken spine a hesitant glance.
“Bloodsinger,” she whispered. “I . . . I am sorry for—”
“Don’t.” In three strides I had her back pinned to the rail. She let out a shriek when my hand gripped her chin, holding her head beside the broken pieces of the spine. “Don’t bring apologies. We’re long past apologies.”
I yanked my hand away, allowing the anger to gather like a hook to the chest, reeling me back to my purpose. The Ever was what mattered, not this unbidden desire for my enemy’s daughter.
“Find somewhere to sleep,” I said through my teeth.
She looked as though each word was a barbed lash, like I was nothing more than a beast backed into a corner.
I didn’t wait for her to leave and made my way back to the helm.
“Move aside, Skulleater.” I shoved the crewman away from the helm and took the handles.
“My King, you don’t guide at night.”
A muscle throbbed in my jaw. I let out a long breath through my nose, reached down to my belt, and flung the small straight blade before I had a full grip on the hilt.
Skulleater cried out when the knife plunged into the rail between his thighs, narrowly missing his leg.
“Hesitate with an order again,” I snarled, “and my knife hits your throat.”
