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Skadi stood, hands clasped in front of her body. “If you allow my grandfather to return to our folk, I will stay.”
“Skadinia.”
“It is fair, Grandfather.” Her voice did not shift, did not strain. “I am regretful for harming a prince, but I did so to protect my own, like you protected yours.” She turned her gaze to the old man. “What does it matter? I feel nothing about the agreement, either way.”
Eldirard growled in the back of his throat. “You’ve been in the dark too long, girl.”
“Yes.” She looked back to me. “I will accept your refuge.”
She was frigid, almost a walking corpse.
“If that is all,” she went on, “I would like to begin my solitude, and my grandfather will need to be returning to Natthaven soon. Our people have need of their king.”
Without waiting for a dismissal, Skadi turned away, chin lifted, until two guards met her at the door. Upon my slow nod, they led her out of the hall.
“I will sign your treaties.” Eldirard sighed but dipped his chin in a subtle genuflect. “Your fairness is appreciated. I will not forget it.”
I rubbed my chin and returned to my throne. The earth bender, too, watched the old man follow the woman out of the hall with a dark glower. There was more to the elven. They were a powerful people, no mistake, and might continue to be a risk.
“You’re going to have Gavyn follow them for all time, aren’t you?” Livia whispered.
I smirked. “Among others.”
Livia traced the peaks and valleys of my knuckles for a moment, hesitating. “Do you believe them when they speak of kin magic? It seemed true. Arion didn’t truly harm Eldirard. Not until those last desperate moments.”
I rested my cheek on the claw of my hand, glaring at the door where they’d left. “I’m certain Sander will not rest until he knows every detail, but if that is so, then I won’t trust them. I have no vow to offer to make her kin.”
My hand curled around her fingers, and I drew them to my lips.
Livia sighed. “There is more to Skadi. I just don’t know what.”
True enough. There was a gnawing in my belly, a twist of a dull blade, as though somewhere inside believed a blade was exactly what the elven woman might become one day.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
THE SONGBIRD
The hall was truly a sight.
A raised dais had been positioned at the far end. Blossoms and vines of berries draped the edges. To honor the earth fae queen, Alistair told me. Silver, ash, and blue banners draped over rafters and across windows of the hall. At the slightest breeze, they would billow and ripple, creating an illusion like the waves on the sea.
Lyres and pipes burst from the corners. Sea singers were skilled in their tunes, and under threat of death from the Ever King should they try to lure any of us with their songs.
I smoothed the front of my gown, rich red, like blood, and peered out the window.
The Ever Ship was on display in the harbor. From the sail rods, bodies of enemies were draped by limbs, throats, waists. An unspoken threat of what it meant to rise against the Ever King and Queen.
Gruesome, perhaps, but by now I was convinced half my heart had scabbed and hardened toward anyone who would dare level a threat against those I kept in the softer, gentler side.
Hesh had been stripped of his flesh by Sewell’s voice once hisskin began to rot. Now his bones dangled from the main mast like totems. Larsson was not placed on the Ever Ship. In truth, I didn’t know what Erik had ordered with the fallen traitor.
Arms slid around my waist. I sighed and leaned into him.
“I miss your thoughts,” Erik whispered, his lips dusting over my throat.
Gods, how I missed our bond. I chose him, I would always choose him, heartbond or not. It was simply a comfort to have him burrowed into my heart, a constant presence.
“I was wondering what became of Larsson.”
