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“He’s kept his girl trapped in her own household,” Tavish said. “But she could connect Erik and Bonekeeper. They share blood; the connection would be much simpler with shared blood. Otherwise, we’d need a bit of hair, some skin, an eyeball, something from the one we wanted to overtake.”
Bleeding gods.
“It comes at a price,” Erik said. “Her voice can connect two minds, but it isn’t always simple to pull them back.”
“No.” I held up a hand. “No, we’re not risking you getting stuck in Larsson’s mind.”
“We’ll need an anchor,” Tavish said. “But I’m confident we could do it.”
I spun on Erik when he went quiet, his fingers running over his chin. “You can’t honestly be willing to risk this.”
“If we want to know what we’re facing with Larsson, yes.”
“I just got you back,” I whispered.
“And you won’t lose me again,” he said.
Battle was always a risk. I despised it, wanted to thrash and shout and refuse. I closed my eyes and pressed my brow to Erik’s. “I’ll kill you if you don’t keep that promise, Serpent.”
“Understood, love.” He kissed the top of my knuckles.
“Well, there’s still the problem regarding Joron never allowing us to get close to Avaline,” Tait muttered.
“Agreed,” Erik said, voice harsh. “So, I think it is long overdue for Lord Joron to accept a visit from his king.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
THE SONGBIRD
Once again,the king’s side of the bed had gone cold. The absence of the heartbond ached more when I could not reach out to Erik, when I could not sense him, nor find him. I tossed a diaphanous cloak over my chemise and slipped through the passage in the wall.
He’d grown stoic the longer we’d marked our plans earlier.
We’d strategized, altered plans, argued, but before we drifted away to find a few moments of sleep, it felt like we’d settled on a surer plan to approach Joron, to utilize his daughter, and find a way to learn more than one of Larsson’s secrets.
The study was empty, only remnants of the meet earlier left behind. Scrolls and books, ewers and cups.
Corridors were empty but for a few guards watching the entrances. A bit of worry gathered in my belly, a slow burn I fought to taper. If something wretched had befallen Erik, I would know. Heartbond or not, there was something fierce that burned between me and my serpent. A sort of heartbeat that raced when he was near or in pain, then slowed when he was at peace or still.
Flickers of light bled from the cracks of the heavy doors guardingthe throne room. Two guards stood watch. I cleared my throat, and with only a moment of hesitation, they stepped aside.
Old, damp hinges protested the movement. Empty walls caught the echo and spread it around like the gossip of ghosts across the room.
My heart quickened, bruising my ribs, when Erik’s lithe form was slumped in his throne, shirtless, injured leg outstretched. The king was lost in thought as he spun his blood crown in his hands.
“No one enters until we give the word,” I whispered to the guards.
Again, they hesitated. I could not blame them. For a few short weeks, they’d known the Ever King had crowned a queen. I’d never exuded any sort of authority before I was snatched away.
Still, after a few breaths, they nodded and tightened their arrangement in front of the door.
So lost in his own mind, Erik did not glance behind when the doors moaned back into place, and he did not peek when my feet brushed over the stone tiles. The king didn’t move until my fingertips slid over the scars on his chest. His breath caught, short and rough, then his head fell against the back of his throne, tilted as my lips and teeth explored his throat.
“Songbird,” he said in a rasp. “You ought to be sleeping, love.”
“I thought you’d learned by now, Serpent,” I said between kisses. “I do not sleep well without you. I’ve grown rather accustomed to your overheated skin.”
“I am not overheated. You are merely made of ice.”
