The Ever King: A Dark Fantasy Romance (The Ever Seas Book 1)
The Ever King: Chapter 26

I’d lost my damn mind.

Long after the crew went to sleep belowdecks, I stood alone on the main deck and wiped my thumb over my lips. I could still imagine Livia’s pleasure there and had to swallow the damn moan that wanted to slide free at the thought of her heat, her taste, her scent buried in my tongue.

I could spend the rest of my days with my mouth on her body, and I’d consider it a life well lived.

She’d never been touched, but I’d never done that to a woman.

Any females invited into my bed were kept turned away, never considered a lover, more a body to relieve the ache in my cock when I tired of my own hand.

A bond. Livia had taken on the power of the mantle, and unknowingly bonded to me as the king. It couldn’t be more. Weaknesses were made when the heart opened its weeping sinews and let sweeter feelings inside.

A wretch named Hans Skulleater manned the helm tonight, and his deep timbre hummed the song. The moon was at its highest point and cast a cold light over the black laths of the deck.

I tore into a dry oat roll, leaned over the rail near the bow, and watched the dark water lap against the hull. How was I to manage the truth of my beautiful captive once we reached the royal city?

Not many of the crew had borne witness to Livia’s bloom, and I wanted to keep it that way. Desperation had grown into the bones of Ever Folk. It would take one slash of a blade from some poor bastard who believed spilling her blood might heal it all.

I wouldn’t be able to hide the truth of what Livia was from the house lords for long, but she needed to be claimed, she needed the respect and prestige of being the king’s first.

The woman was prone to tumultuous thoughts and unease, but tonight it was me who could not calm the race of my pulse. I closed my eyes. Long ago, I dashed any limits of morality I would cross to save the Ever. It didn’t matter who had to die, what twisted spells I needed to create, I’d do it.

The points of the swallow wings dug into my palms.

For the first time, I considered I might’ve reached a limit I couldn’t cross. I could imagine killing her father, mother, even the pup. But now, the thought of watching light leave Livia’s eyes because of my actions left a rancid burn in my stomach.

It was a good thing my father was dead, or he’d tear out my heart for being such a weak link in his long line of brutal kings.

“Dammit.” A soft curse came at my back.

Livia rounded the mast dressed in a canvas coat too big for her body. The braids in her hair had been taken out, and wind blew the dark curls wild and free around her cheeks.

I couldn’t look away, yet at the sight of me, she frowned and spun back the way she’d come.

“Songbird,” I said, grinning. “What has you wandering about so late at night?”

“No reasons I’d tell you.”

I did enjoy her bite.

“If you’re looking for more of my mouth, I’m afraid I can’t tonight. I’m watching the deck, you see.” I opened an arm and gestured to the empty ship, taking too much pleasure from the rush of blood to her cheeks.

“I wasn’t, I didn’t . . . gods, you’re an arrogant sod. I couldn’t sleep and needed some air. There were no thoughts of you.”

I laughed and leaned my elbows onto the rail again. “Not safe wandering on such a ship. Might stumble into the crew’s chambers and I’d never know. I’d never hear you scream.”

“Do you intentionally cause people to imagine the worst at all times?” Her shoulders rose and fell with sharper breaths. I studied her ritual, curious to learn more, and hating myself a little for it. When her pulse raced, Livia always clenched her fists, or her jaw, or she’d close her eyes. I waited and . . . there it was; she drew in a long, quiet breath through her nose.

I cupped the back of her neck, drawing her face close to mine. “Breathe, Songbird. You’re at no risk here. It’s only me tonight.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “And you are the problem.”

A thousand meanings laced her words. My gaze dropped to her soft lips. Thoughts of taking them again, tasting her, knotted in my gut. For a long, heated pause we attacked each other with our eyes, as if holding the stare the longest would peel back all the shields between us. When she grew too close to victory, I released her. “Go sleep. We’ll arrive by sunrise.”

“I can’t sleep,” she admitted with a touch of reluctance. “Sewell has swallowed a boar. It is the only way to account for why the man sounds the way he does.”

Before it could be stopped, a laugh rolled from my chest. “When his skull was broken, it wrecked his face. Something in his nose, I’m told.”

Her lips quirked with a reluctant grin. I tried to see him, tried to see her as the enemy, but all I saw was her. The blue of her eyes under the sparse lanternlight gleamed like a raw cut sapphire. Every flame brought out a warmer shade in the dark curls of her hair.

Livia hugged her middle and stepped back. “I’ll just replace somewhere else to sleep on this horrid ship.”

“I believe you mean magnificent.”

“This vessel”— she waved her hands about — “is the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen. What sort of ship has broken spikes everywhere, floorboards soft with rot, and those . . . fire weapons that will light the sails ablaze? A reckless choice, if I might say, for your prized monstrosity.”

“The wood is not rotten. It’s made from unique lumber in the royal city that is designed to give and bend to survive the Chasm. Quite expensive.”

“Ah, I’ve always loved a man who tries to impress me with his purse.” She arched a brow. “It’s usually compensating for other, lesser qualities.”

Her eyes danced down to my damn trousers.

“Oh, you speak dangerous words.” I leaned my face alongside hers, just enough to touch her cheek to mine. “But if you’re curious about my ship, or possibly other things, you need only ask.”

Her eyes bounced between mine. “I don’t want to know anything about your ship and certainly have no interest in anything else.”

“Ah.” I went to one of the ember spears and rested a hand on the sleek barrel. “So, you’ve no interest in how these work?”

She folded her arms over her chest, smug tension on her mouth. “A type of magic, I’m sure.”

“Not at all. The ember spears are designed entirely from resources in this kingdom.” She faltered. The barest glance of her eyes to the oil-glossed barrel gave her up. I opened the door where the cinders were loaded. “A lot of intricate mechanics, really. But I forgot, you’re not interested.”

Livia looked to the side, jaw tight, then huffed and stormed over to me. “Fine. Tell me. Better to know how something so dangerous works. I wouldn’t want to blow off my hand before you have a chance to cut off my fingers.”

“I take no joy in fingers,” I said, flicking my brows. “I prefer softer tissues. Eyes, tongues, bellies.”

“You’re a wretch.”

I merely shrugged. From a crate beneath the barrel, I removed a burlap pouch and showed her the contents. “The ember spears use these.”

“What are those? Crystals?”

“No,” I said, lifting one from the pouch. A soft, black sphere with red veins glowing as if flames were embedded within. “We call them cinder stones. Once used as a mere fire starter, but now we mine them for several uses. Hand me that bottle there.”

Livia licked her lips, but lifted the glass bottle beside the crate.

“Pour out a healthy dose right onto the cinder stone.”

A gleam of excitement brightened her eyes. For the few breaths it took to pour the oil over the stones, she forgot to detest me.

Her mouth parted. “What happened to it?”

The cinder stone had hardened and enlarged now that the oil sopped into the porous outer layer. Instead of a pliable, glowing stone, it was a dark shade and solid as iron. I tossed the pellet between my hands. “Scald leaf oil reacts to the elements of the cinder stone. It hardens the pores and cracks, swells, and becomes rather impenetrable.”

“And these are what you fire?” She pointed at the barrel.

“Impressed?”

She ignored the question and hurried on. “But how does it fire? How does it travel the distance being so heavy? With such a weight the power of the blast must—”

“Be fierce,” I interrupted. “It is. Here is what is called the touchhole.” I patted the opening on the barrel. “We hold a flame to it, and when the heat mingles with the skald leaf oil, it bursts. The spear fires the blast forward. You won’t blow off your hand unless you place it in front of the mouth.”

Livia touched the iron. “And how far can they go?”

“Fifty paces. More with decent aim and fair wind.”

She grinned, inspecting the curves, bolts, and details of the barrel. “All right, Ever King. These are possibly, slightly intriguing.”

I hated how her lax praise still felt like a brilliant victory.

“But,” she went on, moving toward one of the sharp spines on the hull, “you’ll never convince me these odious things are pleasant to look upon.”

“Those odious things, Princess,” I insisted. “Are part of an array of history. Every spine represents an Ever King. With each new claim comes a new spine. This ship has seen many kings for thousands of turns. They never cease growing, love. They are the shield, the blade, the power of this ship, and they deserve your respect. Tell them they’re beautiful.”

Livia snickered and my chest tightened.

“Forgive me,” she whispered to a long spine. “You’re so ugly, you’re almost lovely.” She looked at me, rather pleased with her slight, then touched the shattered spine near her hand. “Not as impenetrable as the pellets, I see. What happened here? One of your endless enemies break it off?”

Tension snuck up behind and throttled me. A cutthroat reminder of the distance I should keep. “Yes.”

The word was stacked in something harsh and cruel. Livia’s smug grin faded.

“The spines crack when a king is defeated,” I said, voice rough. “That was the spine that grew when my father was crowned as king. It broke at his death. You see, they fracture like a weak thing, for an Ever King should never be bested.”

She took a step back and offered the broken spine a hesitant glance.

“Bloodsinger,” she whispered. “I . . . I am sorry for—”

“Don’t.” In three strides I had her back pinned to the rail. She let out a shriek when my hand gripped her chin, holding her head beside the broken pieces of the spine. “Don’t bring apologies. We’re long past apologies.”

I yanked my hand away, allowing the anger to gather like a hook to the chest, reeling me back to my purpose. The Ever was what mattered, not this unbidden desire for my enemy’s daughter.

“Find somewhere to sleep,” I said through my teeth.

She looked as though each word was a barbed lash, like I was nothing more than a beast backed into a corner.

I didn’t wait for her to leave and made my way back to the helm.

“Move aside, Skulleater.” I shoved the crewman away from the helm and took the handles.

“My King, you don’t guide at night.”

A muscle throbbed in my jaw. I let out a long breath through my nose, reached down to my belt, and flung the small straight blade before I had a full grip on the hilt.

Skulleater cried out when the knife plunged into the rail between his thighs, narrowly missing his leg.

“Hesitate with an order again,” I snarled, “and my knife hits your throat.”

“Aye . . . King Erik. Aye.” Skulleater dipped his chin and hurried off the deck.

I watched him go and wished I hadn’t. Mere paces from my chamber door, in the perfect vantage point to take in the helm, Livia stared up at me. Hells, I’d take her pitiful looks, the ones where I was nothing but a fiend in her eyes, over this. In this moment, she looked at me as if I’d taken her heart and torn it in two.