The Ever King: A Dark Fantasy Romance (The Ever Seas Book 1)

All through the night boots must’ve stomped over my skull. I could not understand why it screamed in hot agony.

Something cold dabbed my brow. I cracked one eye. A woman with a spot growing dark hairs on her chin pressed a cloth to my forehead. Her hair was the color of a pale sky, tied in a knot at the base of her neck, and her skin looked rough like weathered leather.

“Ah, decided to wake?” She hummed a laugh and reached over a table topped with a mortar and pestle, herb jars, and a burning stalk of what looked like scorched grass. The woman crushed a few of her burning herbs into a wooden bowl and waved it under my nose. “Up you get.”

I coughed, retching on the harsh burn of spiced herbs. Unappealing as it was, my lungs cleared, and the ache in my skull dulled to a mellow throb.

“What happened?” Haze wrapped around my memories. I recalled the Ice Fjords. Bloodsinger left us. A tavern and . . . sweet music.

I jolted upright. Music. Desire. The king.

With a groan, I buried my face in my palms. I’d clawed at Bloodsinger, shoved my tongue in his mouth. He could’ve done anything to me, and his touch would’ve sent me to a blissful euphoria.

“Hold your head up, dearie,” said the woman, puffing out her lips. She patted my shoulder and handed me a cup of clear water. “Sea singers were once the brutalist of foes when land and sea met. Eggert had been bound to this old tavern for at least six centuries. Had a rather nasty debt to pay for stealing from a nobleman in the House of Tides.”

“I was—” I sipped some of the water, wetting the dry patches in my throat. “I was his way to freedom?”

The woman nodded. “Only earth folk fall for a sea singer’s tune. They want the hearts, you see. Something about eating one makes their youth return. Without it, they’re nothing but rotting corpses with a voice. Hard to pay off his debt when your lot never steps into the Ever. I expect you made his last moments rather thrilling.”

His last moments. I made his last moments filled with a feral need to survive, then I watched the creature die from poison and tried to bed his killer while everyone watched.

“No shame in what was done,” she went on. “Sea singer lust is untamable. Not even the strongest of celibates could resist it. The illusion of pleasure is intoxicating, I suppose.”

It was mortifying.

I’d need to face Bloodsinger again. I couldn’t recall every detail of my lust trance, but I recalled him. His taste, the heat of his breath on my skin, his hands, his body. My pulse quickened; I had to close my eyes and repeat all his lies, his cruel words and threats, to keep from tumbling down another spiral of disgusting, misplaced desire.

I didn’t want him.

It was a trance.

Yet I couldn’t keep my mind from spinning to the gentle way he’d returned me to the bed, the way he’d rushed me out of sight before anyone saw me unravel. The way he stopped.

A man who had utter control over me in a vulnerable moment had stopped it.

I let out a long breath. Bloodsinger didn’t want me, simple as that. Except there were bits and pieces of moments where his eyes burned like fire behind his irises and his fingers nearly bruised my skin from clinging to my body with such ferocity.

“Drink up, dearie.” The woman pointed at the water. “Clears the system. Promised the king I’d send you to him once you woke, and he’s not keen to wait around the fjords longer than needed.”

Heavy disquiet settled like hot stones in my stomach.

“Oh, I brought you this.” The woman set a sprig of some kind of herb with blue leaves on the table. “For the nerves.”

“Nerves?” I blinked. “You saw me?”

“Don’t know what I was supposed to have seen, but I know you’ve got wild nerves. Hard to breathe sometimes? Heart races? Thoughts spin?”

I nodded slowly. “How did you know?”

“Most boneweavers have a sense about these things.”

“Boneweaver?” I grinned. “You’re a healer.”

“You earth fae and your odd terms.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Boneweavers have an affinity to breathe in the ailments of the folk they’re weaving, healing, I suppose you’d say. Weaving sounds more intricate, don’t you think? Anyway, once we get a taste, we can recommend proper remedies.”

I studied the herbs. “I’ve had nightmares and . . . panicked thoughts since I was a girl.”

The old woman nodded with a touch of sympathy. “Mind’s a powerful thing, dearie. Don’t you go feeling no shame, but don’t you forget you own that mind of yours, it’s not to own you. The serenleaf will help. Quite soothing after a few breaths.”

She showed me how to rub the dust from the sprigs over my fingers, so the scent would be with me most of the day. According to the boneweaver, some folk threaded the herb in their gowns or jewelry. Subtle not to be noticed, but powerful enough it could help ease the sharp edges of the anxious nerves.

“I’m Livia,” I whispered as she gathered her supplies.

With a kind smile she nodded. “I know. Heard all about you from the king. He wasn’t pleased with how long you were sleeping.”

I frowned. If Bloodsinger hadn’t wanted me to get locked in a twisted, sexual trance, he shouldn’t have left me alone in a tavern with sea singers.

“About had to give him some serenleaf of his own to get the man to stop asking if you was breathing right.”

My fingertips tingled. Erik pestered her over my wellbeing, not out of his own annoyance? That didn’t fit.

The old woman chuckled and patted my shoulder. “Name’s Blister Poppy. If ever you return to the Ice Fjords, you come say hello, you hear? Now, once you feel steady, there’s some fresh clothes for you in the wardrobe. Next door down the hall, the king will be waiting.”

I inhaled deeply, drawing in the smooth scent of the serenleaf. The herb had a flavor like honey and milk and a sweet nectar.

I tucked the sprig into the deep pocket of the roughly spun wool skirt—a size too large—and smoothed out the billowy top. Almost positive I was adorned in a man’s top, I didn’t mind. Anything to rid myself of Bloodsinger’s shirt. All I saw when I looked at it was the way I’d wanted to shred it to pieces and climb onto Erik’s lap, naked.

What did Poppy say? My mind lived within me, but I gave it too much control. Last night, horrible as it was, had been something beyond my control. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed about.

I closed my eyes. Uncle Tor was always telling me to find a lesson in a struggle. I suppose next time I walk into a tavern in the Ever Sea, I will be on high watch for sea singers. I laughed softly. No mistake, any strum of a lute or beat of a drum will likely send me bolting from the room from now on.

No matter how Erik mocked me, what happened taught me to always be on guard.

Shoulders back, I stepped into the room.

This wasn’t a bedchamber. This room was meant for gathering or sitting. Woven rugs over the floor, a few plush chairs against a round table. A meal had been laid out, but my gaze found Bloodsinger straight away.

Gods, he was horribly captivating. Rough and battered, but beautiful and villainous.

The scar cutting through his lip thickened the top peak. His skin had a rich bronze tint in the dawn, almost as though he might glisten in direct sunlight. I was accustomed to broad men, and Bloodsinger was strong, but strength wasn’t all in his build. He was lithe too. A man who could lash out and cut through another before anyone could stop it.

Erik gestured to his meager feast. “Sit.”

I did a quick scan of the wooden plates and goblets. Raw cuts of pink fish and steamed bitter greens and a tart-smelling jelly sauce were laid out over the top.

“I’m not hungry.” I was ravenous.

“You lie so easily, Songbird. Caught in a sea singer’s trance races the heart as if you’re running great distances. Eat. You’ll need your strength. And don’t tell Sewell I said this, but you might as well enjoy the food here before we make the journey home.”

“You’ve decided to return me to the fort?” I sat in one of the chairs with an arrogant grin. “A wise choice.”

Erik took the seat across from me and picked at the fish without taking his gaze off mine. “You’ll learn to call the royal city home soon enough.”

For how long? I swallowed the question back and took a small, pink berry off a plate. It tasted bitter until the juice dripped down my throat like a sugared glaze. “You always accuse me of lying, but you’ve told your fair share.”

“I’ve told you two lies, and one was part of our game in your chamber—I am not careful with how I use my magic, that was the lie.”

“I’m sure I can think of a few more from when you had your hand under my dress.” All gods. I blinked, a little astonished at my own flyaway tongue.

“The same sweet lies you spoke last night when you choked me with your tongue.” Bloodsinger’s grin spread, wide, white, and menacing. Those sharpened canines were not wolfish like fangs, but vicious all the same. He tossed a piece of the fish into his mouth and slumped back in his chair.

Another glance at the meal and my insides twisted. My mouth grew too wet I had to swallow twice.

“Why do any of this? Feed me, clothe me, bring your boneweaver healer woman?”

“Poppy will curse your tongue for that one.” Erik took a long drink from the goblet. “She’s no one’s boneweaver, a free soul as she likes to tell everyone. Says it keeps those she weaves diverse and interesting.”

I let out a sigh of irritation. “Still, you . . . you could’ve made me suffer last night, as you vowed. I was in such a state—” Gods-awful heat flooded my cheeks, but I forced myself to go on. “If you were to hand me to your crew, I would’ve been pliant and accommodating for anyone. You missed your true opportunity to make me suffer.”

The gleam in his eyes transformed to a deep, heated rage. A shiver lanced down my back; I could practically taste the violence misting off him. “Maybe you’re right. I should’ve.”

His anger didn’t come from a place of regret at missing a cruel opportunity. It was pointed at me. As though Bloodsinger was enraged I’d even suggest such a thing. He threatened me in one breath, then looked at me like he’d tear out the throat of anyone who came close.

I wasn’t certain if it was the effects of the trance still peeling away, but my head spun, and I tired of it.

“What do you want with me?” The words spilled out like a plea. “You keep me safe, yet tell me to anticipate death and suffering and pain. The way you took me, the way you tell me you plan such brutal things with me, makes little sense anymore.”

“Tell me where lies the confusion so I might clarify.”

I crossed my arms over my chest like a shield. Maybe more of a challenge. “If you cared about spilling our blood so much, I would be dead already, and you certainly wouldn’t have thought twice about leaving my brother alive.”

He swirled a finger around the edge of his goblet. “You want the truth, love?”

“Yes.”

Erik’s jaw pulsed once, then twice before he looked at me. “Your people deserve to suffer for what they’ve done time and again to people of the Ever. But you?” The king paused. “I might have different plans for you.”

My stomach tightened. “And will I be . . . privy to these plans?”

“Yes. You asked for honesty, and I will give it to you. No matter how brutal.”

I did ask for honesty. What was the point in sparing feelings? I’d rather be prepared. “Tell me.”

“After the events of last night, I’ve come to realize the Ever is too foreign for land fae to be walking about freely.”

Dammit. He planned to keep me truly caged, maybe bound or chained in his small chamber on the ship. I rubbed another sprig of serenleaf between my fingers; this wasn’t a surprise, so it’d do no good to wallow.

“I won’t risk you getting your pretty neck carved up or taken from me prematurely.” Erik took another drink from his goblet. “So, I will claim you.”

My brows pinched in the center. “Claim me? You have already taken me—”

“To claim a prize from a raid is more than simply declaring you belong to me. It’s not done often, not unless a crewman feels a particular connection to a piece.”

“A piece.” I scoffed. “An object.”

Bloodsinger tilted his head, grinning. “What would you like me to call you, Songbird? My pet?”

“Livia.” My name sliced between my teeth, jagged and harsh. I clenched my fists. “I would have you call me Livia Ferus, daughter of Valen and Elise, blood of the Night Folk fae. Blood that is not yours to win like some treasure.”

“Ah, but you might be my greatest treasure.” Erik studied me; his fingers swirled around his goblet; his coy, half-grin never faded. “And what is wrong with it? The title you wish me to say is quite a mouthful.”

“Bastard.” I shook my head and looked away.

The king laced his long fingers together and leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. “To be claimed, Livia, means it is punishable by death should anyone touch you.”

“I’ve always dreamed of being an object for a tyrant. Tell me, Bloodsinger, how many women have you claimed before?”

“None,” he said. “It is a risk. You will be mine, meaning you are in my possession. You’re near me, in my palace, my chambers. We’re not exactly seeing eye to eye, love.”

“Think I’ll stab you in the night?”

He hesitated. “No. You wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“Ah, this sick claiming ritual keeps you safe from me, then?”

“No.” He slipped his hand inside his tunic and pulled out the silver swallow. “This does.”

“That means nothing.”

“It means something.” Erik cracked his neck to one side before going on. “Out of all the earth fae, one girl came to see to the comforts of an enemy. I thought the first night I saw you, that you would throw stones or rotten pomes at me. Imagine my surprise when, instead, you sat down and read to me.”

I didn’t want to talk about the past, didn’t want to remember the war, the blood, the nightmares. I didn’t want to remember that he still believed we had his gold disk hidden away. What would become of any of us when the king of the Ever learned I’d shattered it so long ago?

“This claiming, what exactly does it entail?”

“A public proclamation and brief binding spell.” Erik picked at another piece of fish, but never ate it. “I will arrange it once we reach the royal city. There is always a return feast when the Ever Ship arrives to port. We’ll do it there.” He leveled me in a sharp stare. “That means keep your head down for a few more sunrises, Songbird.”

“And what does it make me, being your claimed possession? Your prisoner? Your whore?”

“It makes you mine.” He glanced at the table. “It will demand the people give you respect, you will be untouchable, for you will be mine.”

“I don’t understand. Like your queen?”

Erik’s face was unreadable. “There are no Ever queens. There are mates to breed heirs. No one sits in the throne but the king; it has always been this way.”

Sounded miserable and lonely. He could say what he wished about my folk, perhaps they were his villains, but they loved fiercely and equally.

Bloodsinger sighed. “I do this not to rob you of more freedom.”

“You’ve robbed me of all my freedom.”

His jaw went taut. “I do this for your protection. You will be considered my property, and as such, you will not be harmed unless the one who attempts it wishes to suffer.”

“Why does my protection even matter? When you first took me, you promised I’d suffer. You promised I’d watch my family burn. Now, you want to protect me.”

His eyes were distant. I wasn’t even certain he’d heard me until he spoke in a low voice. “I was drawn through the Chasm, drawn to you, but there is something else keeping me drawn to you. Have you felt it? The burn at my touch?”

I shook my head at once—too swiftly—and the king grinned with a touch of venom.

“More sweet lies.”

I let out a long breath. “What do you want from me, Bloodsinger? Yes, there is something that pulls me to you. It was what pulled me to you the night you ruined my life. I’d rather not think of it.”

“Is it so horrid?”

“Gods, you’re arrogant.” I shook my head in irritation. “Yes, it’s horrid. Do you think I’d revel in the idea of indulging some strange attraction to the man who speaks only of slaughtering people I love? To the man who had no thought for me, my life, or my future when he ripped me away into a world that despises me?”

“Attracted, you say?”

“Through all that, you only picked up that word?”

Erik chuckled softly and dragged his fingers through his hair. “You did not seem to mind all that much last night.”

Wretched heat flooded my cheeks like a thousand pin pricks across my skin. “Mock me all you’d like for succumbing to a damn lust spell, I care little. Know this—in the daylight, I’d rather be doused in hot oil than let your mangled body touch mine.”

Erik’s grin faltered. If I’d not been so close, I would have missed it. “I suppose you wouldn’t be the first.”

The king stood, more distant than before, and a flare of shame clung to my chest. I buried it down.

Erik went to the door. “Come with me, Songbird.”

“Where are we going?”

Erik’s jaw tightened. He scrutinized me for what felt like a thousand heartbeats, until he finally said, “To the purpose for our visit to the Tower. The truth of the Ever.”