Page 4 of The Stolen Crown
Mira of House Sekundär.
Where the princess laughed and caroused, I preferred solitude and silence. The woman tolerated Sea Folk. No mistake, she played a convincing game of befriending a few souls from the Ever, but there was a memory I could not shake.
A violence, a viciousness lived in the soul of the playful princess.
Damn her and her false comradery. Damn her for taking up any space in my thoughts at all.
Not only was her house responsible for banishing me, but the king and queen of the glamour fae were the ones to land the killing blow that ended the war. My father stirred the vitriol and rage against the earth fae, enough to convince many in the Ever that war was inevitable. But there had also been a dark earth fae who lived in the Ever for turns. A man who manipulated and inspired the worst pieces of folk to bleed through.
Harald Songtaker, my father, joined with the dark fae and brought battles to these shores. Only when the dark fae lost his head beneath the sword of the glamour fae did fighting cease.
Both Harald and the dark fae were haunts of my past. Likely, they were haunts of Mira’s too.
Why the killing blow came from her house, I didn’t know. But it left me suspicious that out of any earth fae realm, the glamour folk likely despised sea fae the most.
I did not trust the princess.
I did not care for her.
And I despised how much all my disinterest somehow drew her to my mind, a slow-burning ember that stung just behind my eyes.
“Dammit, yer not even countin’ our supplies!” Swordeater stepped in front of me, halting my steps. “So, you’ll stop sulkin’ and you’ll listen to me, you bastard.”
Tension pulsed in my jaw. “Bleeding gods, fine. Speak what you must speak!”
Swordeater was a burly sort but still jolted a bit when my lips curled, flashing the two slightly elongated points of my teeth, a trait most common in royal bloodlines of the Ever, much like the red in my eyes.
“I just be thinking you ought to know the royal lovey you’ve been commanded to oversee, well, there be reports Filib be huntin’ her here.”
My shoulders stiffened. “Filib? The sea singer?”
“Aye. One of the men thought they might’ve seen the blasted singer.” Swordeater puffed a bit of smoke in my face. “Seen him goin’ straight after a wanderin’ earth fae princess. Now, if you be wantin’ to save your neck from Bloodsinger, it’d suit you to be getting after her, says I.”
“You’re certain it was the princess?”
“Ye seem to think I don’t know the lass. A little thing with a bit of a bite to those words she speaks all day. That one.”
Gods curse this day. I let out a rough hiss through my teeth. “Why in the name of all the damn seas did you not say something sooner?”
Swordeater huffed. “Bleeding tried to, didn’t I?”
I let out a grunt of frustration and hurried to the gangplank of the ship, Swordeater’s chuckles at my back.
“Hurry on now, Heartwalker. Don’t want any earth fae royal blood on our hands. It’ll fall on your shoulders if we be going back to war. Hurry on. Hurry on.”
I quickened my step, only drawing out more hacking laughs from the sod at my back.
As much as I had my reasons for desiring an immeasurable distance from Mira Sekundär, I could not shake the horrid truth that if someone had harmed her, their blood was about to spill.
2
The Illusionist
My back pressed against the damp bark of a willow. Fine dark soil crusted the bottoms of my boots from the riverbank. Mist kissed my cheeks, but I kept the woolen hood of the cowl off my long braid, the chill soothing the flush of heat in my skin.
One more read to ensure I had not misunderstood, then I crumpled the parchment. Made from kelp weed, the surface was damp and slick and smelled of wet straw. I grimaced and cursed the Ever King once more when a fetid residue was left behind on my palm.
“Gods. That bastard.” Erik Bloodsinger knew how much I detested the strange sea parchment. I shook out my hand, drops of pungent mossy water flinging into the river.
