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Jonas winked at the pub maid, then followed Tait. “My parents were thieves, still are at heart. Sander and I feel most at ease around crooks. This is like home.”
“Royal thieves?” Celine rolled her eyes. “I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” Sander said. “Our family bonding meant wild schemes to getanything—a honey cake from the cooking rooms, a nightly storybook from the repository, a new way into the market.”
“Our father still hasn’t accepted he’s a king, isn’t that right, Alek?”
Aleksi nodded, chuckling. “The royals back home are not assnobbish and pretentious as your royal here, Tidecaller. Probably why you like Livia better than him.”
Celine bit down on her lip, fighting a laugh, and pulled out a chair from one of the larger tables.
If Harald were here, he’d demand I take a bit of flesh from each of them. Any lightheartedness during a direct task would not be permitted. How many times had my uncle tossed me down to the ground, shouting at me to be ruthless, until my face was soaked in his spittle?
How many times had he demonstrated how a king ought to be brutal on Tait? A way to order my compliance all to get my cousin’s pain to stop, and a way to prove how weak I was. If a father could break his own son, why could a king not break his subjects?
It was unnerving the way the earth fae royals could tease and taunt, then snap into something vicious in the next breath. I was not lighthearted, and I did not care. Livia could drag out a laugh from my chest, a smile on my face. Others did not need those from me.
Still, in this moment, I knew Harald was wrong. There was a great deal to be said in fastening loyalty through respect and trust, not fear.
Tallow candles burned in the center of grimy tables. Paper cards and wooden chips slapped on the surfaces. Weapons clinked and clacked against the wooden table as the others leveraged their blades onto the top. I remained standing, scanning the pub.
Ladies with ruffled skirts sat on the laps of men tossing their bets and gambles. Men kissed the throats of women against the counter. A few gazes caught mine, dipping their chins in respect, then promptly dodged our table in the next breath.
“My King, welcome. Always a pleasure to serve the Ever Ship.” The pub matron swayed her rounded hips to our table. “Best wild pear wine just come in from the Glass Isles. A round for your lads?”
Celine cleared her throat.
The matron scoffed. “And your wee, tender ladies.”
A hiss slid through Celine’s teeth in the same moment she letloose one of her knives. The point slammed into the wooden lath wall a finger’s width from the pub matron’s ear.
“Ack, such manners, girl.” The matron hardly flinched and ripped the knife out. She jabbed the blade toward Celine. “You’ll be gettin’ this when you be gettin’ gone from my pub. Not a chime sooner.”
I slammed a palm on the table. “Mariope. I’ve need for Pesha. Is she here tonight?”
“Oh. I did not realize you’d be wantin’ company, My King.”
“Pesha, woman. Where is she?”
Mariope ruffled and scrubbed a dingy linen over the table, as though scrubbing eased her nerves. “Was visiting the village earlier this evening. I’m certain she be back by now.”
“Send for her.”
Mariope dipped her chin and strode away.
“Who is this Pesha?” Aleksi asked.
“Larsson’s favorite company whenever we docked.”
One round of the wine promised made it to our table by the time Pesha sauntered into the pub. Her gilded curls were toppled on the crown of her head and pinned in with wildflowers from the shrubs near the shore. Her sun-darkened skin was dusted with too many powders, and her lips were glazed in red.
She smoothed her sea blue gown, adjusting the neckline so it plunged down her breasts and curled a palm over my shoulder. “King Erik. I was told you requested an audience. Tis an honor, My Lord.”
She tried to stoke my ego, but her voice trembled. Doubtless, my scars and the rumors of my brutality with lovers had reached her.
I pulled out the chair at my side. “Sit, Pesha. I’m here for your words, not you.”
“You don’t . . .” Pesha’s face heated. “My King, all respect, but I’ve got to earn coin like the rest of us. I have a meet within the chime, and if this crosses over—”
