Chapter 34
The Serpent
Half the royal city came out to follow us to one of the Glass Isles, a plot of land off the shores of the city that was covered in the darkening. Heads bowed as we made our way to the docks, but most peeked to catch a glimpse of the princess.
Livia wrung her hands in the folds of her skirt until I thought she might tear a hole in the fabric. I reached back and slipped my fingers through hers. “Pretend there is no one here but me, love.”
Her cheek twitched. “Ah, but you are the problem, Bloodsinger.”
She didn’t release my hand until we reached the last dock, where a long sloop was readied with the banner of the Ever King whipping about in the wind.
Livia’s expression brightened in an instant. “Sewell!”
She gathered her skirt in hand and hurried to the narrow gangplank.
“Glittering, this day.” Sewell tugged on a rope, managing the black canvas sail. “Comin’ aboard?”
Livia chuckled. “Seems that way.”
Sewell winked and offered a quick glance toward Celine before I stepped onto the deck. “Going under, little eel?”
He was asking if we were sailing the way our ships were meant to sail.
“That we are, Sewell. Ready her to dive.” I led Livia toward the helm. “I’ll be taking us beneath the tides, Songbird. As we did through the Chasm, don’t let go.”
With a snide grin, she pressed her chest against mine and wrapped her arms around my neck.
Nestled between my arms, she was positioned the same way she’d been the night I stole her away.
The difference between now and then was the look in her eyes.
A flash of something warm and almost greedy burned in the blue.
“Like this, Serpent?”
“Yes.” Dammit. My voice was a rasp lined in grit and desire. The press of her curves rushed heat to the wrong places. I focused ahead. Once the skeleton crew was aboard, I whistled sharply and waved a hand. A gust of wind caught the sails, and the sloop turned away from the shore.
Livia’s fingertips played with the ends of my hair behind my neck. She closed her eyes when the sea breeze kissed her cheeks. Gods, she looked made for the Ever.
“Take her down,” I called out. More boats followed in our wake. The people were coming to witness the last thread of hope. My stomach lurched in unease. What if it was too much and we couldn’t destroy it?
“We will,” Livia whispered.
I froze, but she wasn’t looking at me. I wasn’t sure she realized she’d taken hold and absorbed my fear unknowingly. Little by little, this tether between us was growing. Little by little, I was handing over my scorched, rotted heart.
I couldn’t stop.
A man he’s not…
Low hums and chants rumbled over the deck as the crew worked the sails and readied to dive.
“Hold tight, Songbird,” I whispered next to her ear.
Livia braced. Water spilled over the bow, the deck, until the sea swallowed us.
Boats dotted the shore. “They’re here to watch?” Livia glanced over her shoulder as more folk arrived after us.
“I want them to see your power.” I hesitated. “They need hope.”
She gave a curt nod and faced the isle. Small knolls were once covered in lush ferns and tall grasses, trees with waxy, gilded leaves, and ponds with fish of all colors. Now the sand was left colorless, and the plants were withered and blackened.
“Erik.” Livia tugged up her sleeves, eyes forward. “If I fail, what will become of your people?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “If you fail, which you won’t because you’re too bleeding determined to prove yourself, I will do what I must to find them somewhere else to live.”
“Where would you go?”
“Through the Chasm, Songbird. I would give myself to your people in exchange for the refuge of mine.”
She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, then took a step forward as she whispered, “I’d better not fail, then. After all this, I’d wager my father doesn’t like you much. He would make life quite unpleasant, I’m afraid.”
“I’m sure he would.” The instant resentment at the mention of the earth bender was missing. In truth, I could understand his anger toward me. Should he come to take her back, I’d likely be the same.
Celine gnawed on her thumbnail, Sewell flicked his fingers by his sides, while Tait and Larsson watched from the sloop.
I trudged up the slope beside Livia, until she came to a stop, far enough away from the others that no one would hear us. “Erik, I’m going to try my hardest. If it doesn’t work, please know that. Despite how I was brought here, I don’t want your people to suffer.”
Guilt tore through my chest until I couldn’t draw a deep breath. She wanted my people to live—her enemies—and all I’d done was threaten hers.
I should have recognized the dangers of getting too close to this damn woman at the first taste.
Following her to that masquerade had begun my dangerous descent.
From the first tug of the undeniable pull to the cautious chirp of her laughter to the cunning look in her eyes when she tried to intimidate me, I should’ve kept a distance.
When I saw the sea singer dragging her away, the tight, noxious panic ought to have been a signal I’d crossed a line.
But here, when she feared the judgment and blades of my people, yet stepped onto an unfamiliar shore ready to dig into a magic she feared, all for their lives—I plummeted over a ledge for her, and I wasn’t coming back.
My lungs only filled when Livia knelt and pressed her palms to the soil.
She winced. I ground my teeth to keep from shouting at her to stop. Slowly, her face softened. Five breaths passed, then ten more before the sooty plague broke into soft mists and rippled away from her touch.
Against the sea wind, the crash of the waves on the isle shore, the gasps and choked sobs rose. My pulse raced. Shadows fled from beneath Livia’s hands. She stood, eyes clenched, and held her palms out to her sides.
“Stay with me, Erik,” she whispered, and took a step forward. “I don’t know why, but the nearer you are, the stronger my fury burns.”
“Always.” I kept her pace.
The ripple of retreating black grew under her hands, her steps. Like a great wind erupted from her body, darkness swept away and into the tides. Livia stumbled, gasping. I grabbed her arm.
“Gods.” She drew in a sharp breath. “Keep your hands on me.”
“Gladly, Songbird. Gladly.”
“You’re a wretch.” She grinned, and I’d say countless wretched things if it kept that smile in place. “I was fatiguing, but your touch brought my strength back.”
I was a fool. We were meant to take strength from each other.
My father always held his talisman when he commanded the seas to part or the waves to do his bidding.
To touch her as fury raged in her veins was strange. Like shards of it melted into mine, our magics spilled between us. Strong enough, I thought, connected like this, Livia’s blood might be toxic. Perhaps, I might be able to summon the blooms as she did.
“You should try.” Livia swiped at the drops of sweat on her brow.
“Do you realize I’m not speaking?”
She blinked. “I…I didn’t. I’m feeling your thoughts.”
“Disconcerting, isn’t it?”
“Very.” She rolled her shoulders back. “Still, it made a bit of sense that you might be taking some of my fury. Try to call the life back to the soil. I’m not sure I can do both without becoming exhausted too quickly.”
“I don’t know how.” My magic killed things. It wasn’t lovely and bright like hers.
“It’s warm,” she explained. “Almost like you call to it, and you’ll feel it here.” She pressed a hand over my heart. “Try.”
Livia took up her pace again. I kept my hand on her shoulder but slowly unfurled one palm over the ground as we walked.
I didn’t know how to call to the damn earth, so I closed my eyes and conjured up a memory of digging in soil, of placing dark seeds, then a blurry recollection of the elation when the tiny blooms broke the surface. The laughter and a woman’s gentle embraces that followed.
“Erik, look!” Tait shouted. My cousin was distant, reserved, and always on his guard, but there was a touch of relief in his voice.
I opened my eyes slightly. Beneath my palm, moss-green clovers sprouted through the cracked soil. Livia paused, a little stunned, then beamed at me.
I lifted her knuckles to my lips. “You didn’t fail, Songbird. As I said.”
“Don’t be an ‘I told you so’ kind of king.”
“But I did.”
Livia laughed. A true laugh, and I would kill anyone who tried to take such a sound from me.
Sobs from the people turned to cheers and praises and songs. We covered ground together, clearing away three knolls of the darkening before Livia lowered to her knees, and I fell back beside her, gasping, body aching.
“Larsson,” I said, and weakly waved him over to me when he stepped onto the shore. A man of jests and taunts, he looked down at me with a somber expression. “Tell the people…tonight we revel in the hall.”
He tipped the brim of his hat. “As you say, My King.”
I closed my eyes and grinned. For the first time in turns, it felt as though I could take a damn breath.
“Livia,” I said through a pant, “did you see anything? More thoughts when you connected to it?”
“Yes. The magic was potent today. I do believe this was caused by someone, not the earth. It was painful, as though it was a lash on the skin, an attack on the kingdom in a sense. But there was something else.” Her brow furrowed in disquiet. “I don’t know what to make of it.”
“What did you see?”
“More what I felt.” Livia dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do you have a brother?”
Well, shit. “I don’t.”
She rubbed her forehead. “See, unreliable. There was this constant thought of the throne belonging to him. I don’t know who he is, but…
Erik, you must promise me you will be wary.
” Her eyes were round and pleading when she sat up.
“I hate to say it, but what if someone caused a disaster like this all to take your crown?”
“Then they would not be the first.” I stood, desperate to hide my unease. If it was true, then I had an invisible enemy with a damn blood claim to the Ever.