Page 2 of The Stolen Crown

“Princess,” one of the guards spoke gently. “You ought to run along. Trials will be starting soon.”

She sniffed and used the back of her sleeve to wipe under her nose. “Where you takin’ him?”

The warrior looked at the boy who peered nowhere but at the odd girl they called a princess. “To the shore. Battle always comes with a cost.”

The girl flicked her eyes from the warrior to the boy, head canted to one side. Gods, she was young. But beneath the gleam of innocence billowed a shadow in her girlish eyes. A shadow the boy understood well enough, when a young one had seen too much anguish much too soon.

“Good,” the girl gritted out through her teeth. “Hope it hurts.”

Call it a bit of madness from isolated days in the dank cell, but the boy spoke, flashing the sharp points of two teeth near the front of his smile. “I suppose we’re about to find out, vicious little princess.”

She blinked as though stunned the boy could speak. Then the girl lifted her chin, but she did not know how to hide the way it trembled. She did not know how to steady the quiver in her voice before speaking.

“I will be vicious, sea fae. Should I ever see your folk again, I’ll do the same to you as my maj did to him.” She used the simple blade to point at the head of her enemy.

The boy scoffed when the warriors pulled him toward the tall double doors of the great hall, a low “That I’d like to see” on his lips as they went.

When the boy and his cousin king were banished, locked beneath the tides of the seas, never to return, he felt a touch of relief. No more threats of war, no wicked father to break his bones, no sweet princesses who pretended to be cruel.

Days would return to something dull, safe, and empty. But at least they would not be painful.

If the boy only knew how the fates would twist his path, he might’ve done more to unravel the folk of the earth realms before the sweet, vicious princess who flung blades at the heads of corpses unraveled him.

1

The Heartwalker

The Ever King was going to die.

A slow, hopefully rather painful death. My queen would need to forgive me for slaughtering her mate.

“King says there’s no need to respond,” said Swordeater, a curious sea fae who could literally devour steel. He cupped an herb smoke as he lit the tip, utterly oblivious to my scowl. When he pulled in a long draw, Swordeater finally met my glare. “Merely said to send word when we set sail.”

“I can read, you ass.” One fist curled around the rough parchment Erik bleeding Bloodsinger had sent from the Ever, the home to which I very much desired to return.

In my other hand, I kept flicking open the face cover of a battered pocket watch. A gift from Lady Narza, the strongest sea witch within the House of Mists.

The watch was curious, a normal time-teller in most cases. But if the risk of danger rose, then the hands spun more swiftly, hinting time for safety was running short. If a true threat to the Ever King’s life rose—or to the one I gave my fiercest loyalty—the hands would point straight at him.

Mere months ago, we battled for the throne of the Ever Kingdom against Larsson Bonekeeper, Erik’s unknown half brother. Throughout the fighting, the hands on the clock face ticked to wherever my cousin stood in proximity to me, not spinning wildly, merely aiming at the one whose life was at the greatest risk.

Only after Erik landed the killing blow did the hands tick normally again.

No doubt, the Lady of Witches gifted me the watch since Narza knew my loyalty to my cousin—her grandson—would never falter, never belong to anyone else.

Until today.

No mistake, if Erik stood beside me, the hands of the small watch would be stiff and aimed directly at the Ever King, just as they had during battle, signaling his demise was imminent.

The hands ticked gently, telling the chime as though nothing was amiss. Seemed the magic of the sea witches believed Erik was safe. For now.

This was not what I agreed to after leaving the celebration of new vows in the alver kingdom.

Sea and earth fae alike had gone to witness a bond ceremony between Jonas Eriksson, a prince of the earth realms, and Skadi, the new elven queen. Strange how much had changed in the months since tentative peace built between the Ever and earth realms. Never did I think I’d be drinking ale with earth folk. Certainly not at vows where blades were nowhere to be seen.

By order of the Ever King, after the celebration I was directed to continue being the escort to an infuriating creature.

Not only did I sail the woman from the alver vows to her kingdom, now I was to wait and bring her to my queen for another damn visit, unharmed and unbothered. Once the task was complete, I would be free to return to my own self-imposed seclusion.