Page 9 of The Stolen Crown

“You had her,” I said, voice low, harsh. “Tasted her. I do hope it was worth it, for it will cost you your life.”

Filib’s eyes went wide. His protests were shrill and wet, as though he’d gulped large swallows of seawater.

With the flick of my fingers, I signaled to Fireweaver, one of the more brutal crewmen sent to accompany me. “Bring him to the ship as our guest. I’ll see to him shortly.”

“Aye, Heartwalker.” One half of Fireweaver’s smile drooped from an old injury. With the gaps in his teeth, his crooked sneer lifted hair on the neck.

I faced the unmoving princess.

By the tides, when she slept, the woman nearly looked innocent. A light flush of pink bridged her cheeks, her lips plumped in a natural pout, and the auburn streaks of her brown hair gleamed like hidden rubies in the sunlight.

What a stunning charlatan.

Beneath such a sweet outer layer resided a clawed viciousness she did not betray save for the gleam in her eyes.

I peered over my shoulder, then the next. Lush trees and vibrant blooms made up the forests of the glamour fae realms. But they were often empty. Folk resided in their strange glamour courts. Still, more than one pair of glowing eyes peered out from hollowed caverns in trees or from beneath bramble shrubs.

The glamour fae isles of the earth realms were littered with faeish creatures. Winged beasts with silver hair, somber stargazers who thought themselves rather superior, hideous folk with a need to bite and devour anyone in their path, and troll folk with their large eyes.

“I see you, troll.” My glare fell to one of the wide shrubs with leaves as black as midnight.

From beneath the branches, a hand with curled claws emerged. Next came a stout, rounded man who did not reach the buckle of my belt.

Deep crevices across the troll’s roughened skin and his round head were coated in wiry white hair. His shoulders were thick as stone, and each fingernail curved into those claws used for burrowing below the soil. Tufted points of his ears were like the fae, but too heavy to keep straight. The ends curled forward and flapped with every step.

I knew the troll, a steward of sorts in the glamour fae palace.

And he seemed ready to bury me beneath his earthen tunnel. “Sees my lovely one lyin’ there all helpless. Sees with my two eyes, one wretched sea fae towerin’ over her.”

I flashed my teeth. “Ah, with such remarkable sight, did you not also see the sea singer I ripped off your precious princess?”

“Alls Sea Folk be the same to me, sweetling,” said the troll in a voice heavy and slow, like he’d swallowed a dozen spoonfuls of honey before opening his lips. “Don’t trust the lot of you. Told my king as much, tells him every day. Seems like he’ll be agreein’ with me soon enough. Least when it comes to the likes of you. He don’t like you much, after all. He been sayin’ you stare too long at his lovely one.”

Shit. I’d drawn the king’s notice? Unease nibbled at my ribs.

As it was, I did not interact with the royal house if I could help it. Their affection for my queen was the only reason I did not believe the glamour fae would kill the lot of us without cause.

The troll clicked his long claws, a twisted sort of sneer on his plump lips. “What I’ll be thinkin’, sea fae, is my king’ll want your hands first. Next your head, he will. Touch his lovely one and—”

“Dunker, your words hold no merit.”

Another fae broke through the vines of hanging blooms. A frightening sort of man. Pale, icy eyes with narrow black centers. Dark lips and skin like slate. He paused near the troll. “You can see there is no proof the Ever King’s kin touched the princess.”

The troll—Dunker—blustered at the sight of the newcomer. “Blood Lord, you are not seein’ what I was seein’. The sea fae was surely about to hurt our lovely one.”

“I haven’t put a hand on her, you stupid beast,” I snapped. The Ever had its fair share of creatures, but none so brazen and stubborn as these bleeding troll folk.

“Clearly,” said the new fae, voice deep and even. “Your hands are in fists at your sides. How would you lay a hand on her in such a position?”

I blinked. This fae spoke as though I was utterly foolish for even defending myself. As though what happened here was wholly obvious.

Without a word, the imposing man shoved past the pouting troll and scooped Mira into his thick arms.

Unbidden, I held up a hand before he could walk away with her. “Who are you?”

Short of the king and queen, I had little desire to trust anyone beyond myself to handle aggravating Mira Sekundär.

“Gorm, of the Blood Court.” Again, he spoke as though it ought to have been obvious.