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Jonas blinked once, twice, and the glossy black of his eyes returned to the brilliant green. He struggled to his feet but forced them to carry him back into the first chamber. Narza gently placed Skadi’s head on the floorboards and looked to me. “There is darkness here. Power we do not understand.”
“What happened to the guards, all the blood?” I asked frantically.
“Blood bonds,” Narza replied, breathless, wiping sweat off her brow. “Deep and festering, the kind that rob a soul of their agency. They were bound to serve the witch’s commands.”
Fione’s death freed them. My heart leapt. Skadi’s folk, they fought us without a choice. I looked to the sleeping woman. There was more to her reasons, her emptiness.
“I need to get to Erik.” I gestured at the bed, and Skadi’s unmoving form. “We’ll take them away where Larsson and Arion cannot reach them. But I must get to Erik.”
Narza nodded. “Maelstrom awaits you. Go. We’ve claimed the isle. Go, and tell him he has made the Ever proud.”
Emotion knotted in my throat, but I swallowed it down. I ran from the chamber.
“Livia!” My father called out to me. Sander was in the hands of the sea witches, sleeping, breathing, still with the blade in his flesh. Jonas cradled his brother’s head, mocking his features and insisting he was being rather dramatic, through a glimmer of tears.
He was alive.
We were alive.
For now.
“I’m going to find my king, Daj,” I shouted.
“Wait.” My father gripped my arm.
I pulled back. “I’m not leaving Erik.”
“Livia.” He tried again. “I know. I want you to wait, for I’m coming with you.”
A slow smile crept over my face. I said nothing, merely nodded and raced from the palace, my father close behind me.
As promised, Maelstrom and Tavish had theShadow Wingready to sail. Sirens, witches, and sea fae still dotted the shore of Natthaven, tending to the elven guards. Some seemed ill, still choking on blood and spittle. Others were bound and rendered helpless to the mercy of the Ever folk.
“To the king,” I shouted at Maelstrom.
“Aye.” He winked, taking hold of the helm, and diving the sharp bow beneath the tides.
I closed my eyes, bracing for the chill of the sea. The distance was not far, and with the speed of Ever ships, wind thrashed around my face soon enough as theShadow Wingbroke through the tides, resurfacing beside the Ever Ship.
Ropes and grappling hooks were falling into the thrashing water. Gavyn’s ship rocked as it broke free from Larsson’s. Booms and flashes of the ember spears punctured new holes into the sails and decks of the black laths on Larsson’s vessel.
From here, I could make out clashing blades, bodies lunging at bodies. Men falling over rails into the torrent.
Erik, where are you?
“Liv.” My father pointed over my shoulder, blinking against the spray of rain and sea. “There.”
Sea floor split the surface of the Ever Sea like fingers of a lover tangled in dark tresses. They formed a sort of violent cage around Larsson’s ship, rocking the vessel side to side. On one dip, the black sails shifted enough to catch sight of the quarterdeck.
“Erik.” His name fell over my lips like a gasp.
Jabs, strikes, swings, back and forth, I watched Erik and Larsson. The Ever King stumbled against the rail, and Larsson sliced his sword. Erik rolled out of the way. I shouted for Maelstrom to take us in.
Pulse a frenzy, I curled my fingers around the rigging, skin pulled so taut it went white, and swung across the waves until my feet struck the new deck of the elven vessel.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
THE SERPENT
