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I told her more about my mother, the way her hair shone in the sunlight. The way she’d always kissed my nose and tapped it every damn night before sending me off to sleep.
Livia told me how most nights, horrid dreams sent her racing to the bed of her parents, where the earth bender and his queen would move aside, snuggling her deep in the center between them.
Words faded by the time dawn broke along the horizon.
“Your turn, love,” I whispered, rolling her body under mine, and pressing my palm over her chest.
I kissed her then. Kissed her until her body trembled in my hands, until her pants matched the same sounds she’d drawn out of my throat. We faced a battle, danger was not gone, but for a few moments, I lost myself in the peace for which we were fighting.
Days as these, wrapped around Livia Ferus, these were the days I wanted. I’d kill for them, torture, raid. There was no cost too high for more days like these.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
THE SONGBIRD
Bellsin the city rang out, gleeful and bright, while inside the palace was somber. I pressed my palm to the window, observing the sea, wishing we could sail away, even for a moment, and pretend like the risks we were facing were gone.
Now, they were made worse with a new, horrid scheme brought up by Jonas Eriksson. The damn fool. And the trouble was, everyone else seemed to agree with his foolish plans.
I wanted to scream.
“It’s all right to express troubles, Princess.” Stieg strode to my side, matching my gaze over the sea.
“Not when it will do no good. You all have agreed with Jonas, and I hate that I also see the merit.”
“Ah.” Stieg perched on the windowsill. “I’ve known Jonas Eriksson as long as you—the day he took his first breath—so do not think we aren’t equally unsettled. It’s bold and brazen. He is his father’s son. But it might be needed.”
I wrung my hands together. “I know. That is the trouble. This entire plan is laden in risk, and I will not always be with Erik, or you,or . . . I feel like I might break, Stieg. I feel like I am about to bend from the weight of it. How did you face war so many times?”
Stieg was rough around the edges. A fae that could draw out land storms as fiercely as Stormbringer could raise torrents on the sea. Scars dotted his toughened face, a bone pierced the center of his nose, but his eyes were never anything but deep, thoughtful, and kind.
A most trusted warrior since the earliest days of my parents’ rise to their thrones.
I could tell him anything and there would never be judgment or harsh words.
“Much like you are doing now.” He patted my cheek gently. “I have stepped onto battlefields across our realms. Been a prisoner more than once, and come to care for too many damn people. But it has become those same people that keep me pressing forward and fighting whatever threatens them.”
“It’s changing me, Stieg. Larsson, like so many others, underestimates Erik, and I want him to—I want him to fall at Erik Bloodsinger’s feet, so he might see the true Ever King take his place at long last. I think such vile things, brutal and bloody. Whenever we return, I’m not sure our folk will know me.”
“Unless this is the Livia Ferus you were always meant to be.”
When I remained silent too long, Stieg squared to me, plopping his large palms on my shoulders.
“Our choices, our actions, they chip away at us, shaping us, whittling out our potential. It is what we do with that potential that makes us who we are. Sometimes our choices are brutal, even wicked,” Stieg went on. “But each one will carve a piece of us.”
“And if I choose Erik’s life over countless others? Erik always says he is not a hero because there are no lines he will not cross to keep me safe. I admit, I feel much the same for him, for my family. Does that make us any better than Larsson?”
Stieg popped one shoulder. “If I must choose between twobloodthirsty men, I would rather stand by a fiend who fights for his love than a fiend who fights for himself.”
I hugged Stieg’s arm. “You’ve always stood by him, from his youngest turns. He respects you, I hope you know.”
“Erik would’ve come with me if Harald had not taken him after Thorvald’s death. Did you know that?”
“What do you mean?”
“It is a shame Thorvald never saw his son for what he was. The whole time we were imprisoned, this tiny sea fae boy never faltered. He was brave as any warrior.” Stieg chuckled almost wistful. “I’d formed a connection to him, of course, and if his father had no care for him, or never returned, I told our folk I wanted him.”
My lips parted. “You would’ve . . .raisedErik?”
