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“Before we could even find a proper spell to aid him,something . . . took him away. I don’t know how to explain,” Maelstrom said. “We were at the shore. He told me he’d planned to go to the Tower, to stalk traders, see if there were any rumors.”
“Wise thoughts,” Sewell said.
True enough. The Tower was always bustling with sea farers. If word of Livia were to be heard, it would be there.
“What is difficult to explain?” I asked.
“He was preparing to leave, in the way he does.” Maelstrom hesitated, notably uneasy to speak of Gavyn’s ability.
“You know?”
Sewell groaned—a shaky breath slid through his teeth—and he stared at his son’s empty desk.
“That he is a seeker? Aye. His voice is safe with us,” Maelstrom assured. “He’s a fine leader. I’d hate to thwart that. As I was saying, he was beginning to take to the sea when . . . darkness covered him. It took him.”
Celine whimpered. “What? What does that mean?”
“It had power,” Tavish said, dark and rough. “It was a force. I don’t know what it was, and I tried to unravel it, but it was gone too soon. Along with the bone lord.”
Gavyn was taken by a damn spell. This couldn’t be real. I stood and paced behind the desk.
“Larsson knows of him,” Celine whispered, admitting the thing we all feared.
“Shit.” I kicked the leg of Gavyn’s desk. All the while, Aleksi was murmuring to the other royals, explaining Gavyn’s role and ability. I blew out a rough breath. “All right. We’re now searching for Livia and Gavyn.”
“How long’s he gone?” Sewell’s voice was clear in words, but rough and broken in tone.
Maelstrom sighed. “Two nights.”
Dammit.
Aleksi paced, one thumb over the raven hilt of his warrior’s blade. Jonas tilted his head, listening as Sander whisperedsomething I could not hear. Mira had an arm around Celine’s shoulders as though they were boon companions, as though the princess already knew of Celine’s connection to this house and the missing lord.
“We’re going to the Tower,” I said. “Gavyn had the right idea. If any rumors about missing queens and lords are to be had, we’ll find them at the Tower.” I turned on my heel, storming toward the door. “Many thanks, Maelstrom.”
“Wait.” Maelstrom tugged on a strap of leather that hung around his neck. On the end was a bit of silver marked in a rune for knowledge. “Take this.”
“What is it?”
“What I wish the queen or the bone lord had. It’ll allow us to find you should we need to, should we hear anything, or should you find your crew in trouble.”
I gave a tilt to my head and strung my neck with the leather. The clink of the silver touched the swallow against my chest.
“And Tavish is to accompany you.”
“You give up your son to aid me, Maelstrom?” My voice was lined with suspicion.
The man never looked away. “He insists on his own, King Erik.”
“Odd when you’ve had little to do with the House of Kings, don’t you think?”
Maelstrom’s lips twitched. “We have always stood with the House of Kings, since a boy king took the throne. We always will, Erik.”
For a moment, I studied the man, unspoken words and suspicions alive between us like a physical thing so thick it could be tasted. They did not stand with the House of Kings of Thorvald, but of his son.
Because Thorvald was not theirs, but me . . . I was. And there was no time to think on it now.
“I wait for no one,” I said over my shoulder. “If you wish to sail, Tavish, then gather your crew and follow our wind.”
