Chapter 22
The Songbird
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 brutalest 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 his 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 for breathing 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. “The 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 a sea singer.
“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 well-being, 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 had Poppy said? 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 supposed next time I walked into a tavern in the Ever Sea, I would be on high watch for sea singers.
I laughed softly. No mistake, any strum of a lute or beat of a drum would 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 straightaway.
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 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. Getting caught in a sea singer’s trance as you were will race 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 were 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 so 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. ”