AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Docks cut into the shallows, and waiting for us was a black coach painted in the seal on Joron’s banner—a skull locked in a violent wave.
“Erik.” Livia shook my arm and gestured to the villagers meandering through the market square of Joron’s main hub. Thin shawls over heads, hacking coughs by more, and a great many of the townspeople were threadbare and thin as a post.
Few even made an attempt to look our way.
Hair lifted on my arms. I gripped Livia’s hand firmer. “Stay close.”
“My King.” A footman dipped his chin, holding the door to a glossy coach pulled by four braying horthane.
I paused, one foot on the step, and faced the man. “And?”
He lifted his eyes, hesitant. “Beg pardon?”
“My Kingand,” I snarled, scooping my arm around Livia’s waist. “Does it look like I am the only royal here?”
The man’s eyes widened, he seemed uncertain but bowed at the waist. “Forgive me, My Lady—”
“Queen, you bastard. She is not only theladyof the palace, she is the Ever Queen.”
Livia drew in a sharp breath through her nose but did not shrink against me. If our bond remained, doubtless I would sense her heightened pulse, the pull she often felt to disappear when she grew uneasy. She fought it, no mistake, she stood straighter, claimed her position.
“Of course,” he said and offered a fresh bow, facing Livia. “Highness. Welcome.”
“Don’t make me remind you again,” I snarled and ushered Livia inside ahead of me.
The footman hurried out a greeting to the others, merely naming them as, “Honored guests.”
“So this is your House of Tides.” Jonas laughed. “Wonderful way to earn a bit of fealty, My King. Snap and bite at every soul you see.”
I huffed and looked out the window, slipping my fingers through Livia’s. Haggard folk lined the roads, empty, almost despondent. What the hells? Joron had always built his ego upon the shoulders of hisfine lands,hisproud folk, hisglorious trade.
The people we passed seemed as though they were weakening with each step.
Valen followed the folk out the other window. “It was the right move.”
“What was?” Jonas asked.
“If the perception of her authority is to change, he must not allow disrespect for his queen. Not in the slightest.” Valen spoke so plainly, so in favor of my outburst, I wasn’t certain I’d heard him correctly.
“Speaking from experience, Daj?” Livia pinched her lips.
“Yes.”
“Gods.” Livia shook her head. “Why have you and Maj not told us all these sordid details about your history?”
Valen grinned. “And allow you to see me as less than perfectly in control of my temper? I think not, little love.”
“I never thought I’d say it, Serpent,” Livia whispered, “but you have a great deal more in common with my father than I thought.”
True enough. The more I learned of my father’s killer, the more I understood his moves, his brutality, like I was seeing myself reflected through a pane of glass. Every step, even the death of the Ever King, had been to defend his queen, his family, his people.
It was a short distance to Joron’s manor, a wood and wattle structure made of three levels and simple blue banners waving in the breeze from every window, meant to mimic the flow of the sea.
“King Erik, what anhonoredsurprise.” From atop a stone stoop, Joron watched us emerge one by one, sneering, his tone so pretentious I thought he might cough from the effort of speaking through his nose.
A woman with silver hair—like a flash of starlight—stood two paces at his back. Her chin was lifted in defiance, her dark eyes like an underwater abyss.
I ignored Joron, looking to the woman instead. “Lady Avaline. I have not seen you in court.”
