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“Tidecaller,” I said. “Acquaint yourself with more earth fae—”
“Not a fae,” Jonas said, grinning at Celine. “Alver. Much better than common fae.”
It was entertaining watching a silver-tongued prince try to woo Celine Tidecaller, a woman who lived amongst the surliest of men,whose first attempts at embracing her femininity along with her brutality came from Livia.
She was not a woman who’d recognize the prince’s attempts to seduce.
“Prince Jonas,” I went on, gesturing at each royal, “his brother Sander, and the Princess Mira is down by Bloodsummoner.”
“What is your given name?” Jonas’s mouth curved in one corner when he faced Celine. “I’d love to know what to call you if ever we are alone together.”
“Aye,” she said. “I do love when men cry out my name as I gut them.”
Sander laughed and shoved his brother’s shoulder.
“Erik, I’ve heard nothing from Gavyn.” Celine’s voice was rife in burdens unspoken. “But the gates of the lord’s house are opening to us.”
Perhaps Gavyn could not respond. Perhaps he’d left word to welcome the Ever Ship. I sent Celine with orders for the ship to ready to let go the anchor and prepare to set to shore.
Mira and Sander tried to join, interested in how the crew worked on the numerous ropes and sails and duties securing such a large ship. Already, the princess seemed at ease near Sewell and Skulleater, explaining how earth fae longships took to rivers and used numerous oars on sea or freshwater.
The House of Bones was always bathed in soupy mists from the endless silver falls drenching the cliffs and ridges surrounding the main valley. Fewer forests, swamps, and trees than the House of Mists, but still damp with marshes and numerous streams.
Gavyn’s lands were flat with sandy soil, less suitable for crops that grew plentiful in the House of Blades and House of Tides, but the folk of Gavyn’s house were skilled in mining minerals, stones, and the precious gems of our coin. From the oily grass stalks in their flat meadows, parchment and thin paper were pressed. Leather for hats and belts and boots came from the mighty herds of kossa, a horned creature much like the fatted pigs of earth fae.
The House of Bones boasted a fearsome name with brutal voices, but the folk here were industrious, skills encouraged by their lord. Rather busy and curious himself, Gavyn encouraged his folk to better themselves, to think for themselves. Young as he was, he was a skilled leader.
Sewell kept his head down, the brim of his leather hat pulled low. How long had it been since he’d stepped foot in his own house? He took refuge in the royal city when we docked, and Gavyn always came to him there.
“All right, Tidecaller?” I whispered.
“Aye, My King.” Celine said the words but never dropped her stringent focus from the tall gabled rooftops of the lord’s house beyond the wooden gates.
She wouldn’t be recognized. Celine had been too young when her mother was executed and Sewell torn from power. In truth, I wasn’t certain I cared if she was recognized. I wanted them safe, no mistake, and there were sods in the Ever who would see Sewell as a traitor simply because Thorvald called him such, but I grew weary of bowing to such ideals.
We’d already toppled the society of the Ever by crowning a queen. Perhaps it was time to do the same for the most loyal of traitors in this boat.
Gavyn’s household was arranged near the shore, and already the wooden gates were opened to his courtyards. The manor was made of smooth pearl stone, and crushed shells glittered over the rooftop slats. Tall windows let in too much sunlight, and all around the house were fountains and speckled stones collected from all reaches of the Ever.
At the sight of the Ever Ship, at the sight of me, Gavyn’s outdoor staff dropped to one knee, chins dipped. Whispers followed us up the wide stone steps, some murmuring that some in our company did not look a great deal like sea fae.
The moment we reached the landing outside, two heavy blackwood doors groaned under their own weight and opened.
I held out an arm, halting those at my back. From the dim hall of Gavyn’s manor, a man dressed in a fine blue cloak and dark trousers emerged.
My eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”
The man bowed at the waist, so his frost-white hair fell over his sharp features. His eyes unnerved many, but I’d always found them rather curious. The gray was like a storm over the sea, so sharp, so deep, the color seemed to swirl around his pupils.
“King Erik, welcome.”
“Where is Lord Bonerotter, Maelstrom?” Something was not right.
Maelstrom straightened and approached. “Not here, My King. The House of Mists has claimed the House of Bones.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE SERPENT
