Chapter 34 The Serpent
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
THE SERPENT
The House of Tides had a deeper chill to the sea breeze than other houses in the Ever.
Moonlight painted the inky waves in silver as the Ever Ship bow carved through the surface.
The air was heavy with brine and woodsmoke.
Flames shattered the night. Joron’s shores were surrounded in sturdy stone towers with great basins of blue and gold flames lighting ships into his ports.
The shoreline was empty of imposing peaks like the House of Blades or the royal city, but stone cottages covered the rockier beaches in clusters all surrounding the village square.
Like a phantom on the water, the ship silently wove through the narrow islets leading to the main shores.
A tang coated the salt in the air from rows of fire plum orchards, a pome with spiked, orange skin that could be used by boneweavers for pain relief, while the meat was traded as a delicacy amongst noble houses.
Once we carved through a weathered sea gate, cheerful bells rang out over the shores, announcing our arrival.
Flames burning in great iron basins at the top of the walls shifted to a poisonous green shade, and the thick, wooden gates cracked open.
Small vessels awaited in the tides, there to ferry folk to the shores without crowding the ports and docks with large ships.
Joron was a man of order and reveled in having a bit of control over those who stepped onto his shores, be it king or commoner.
I offered no greeting to those sent to collect us, merely held out a hand for Livia.
Gods, the woman was a sight. I’d nearly dragged her back into our bedchamber when she’d emerged with her hair tight in traditional plaits with bone beads of her folk, but over her head was one my black scarves, keeping hair free of her eyes.
A tight corset accented her curves, and a thick skirt covered her legs, sturdy enough to withstand the sea winds.
A perfect collision of two worlds.
After we took our places in the sloop, the earth fae, Celine, and Tait followed. Stieg and Sewell remained at the shore, and Gavyn and Tavish would keep watch on the vessels in the tides.
Docks cut into the shallows, and waiting for us was a black coach painted in the seal on Joron’s banner—a skull locked in a violent wave.
“Erik.” Livia shook my arm and gestured to the villagers meandering through the market square of Joron’s main hub. Thin shawls over heads, hacking coughs by more, and a great many of the townspeople were threadbare and thin as a post.
Few even made an attempt to look our way.
Hair lifted on my arms. I gripped Livia’s hand firmer. “Stay close.”
“My King.” A footman dipped his chin, holding the door to a glossy coach pulled by four braying horthane.
I paused, one foot on the step, and faced the man. “And?”
He lifted his eyes, hesitant. “Beg pardon?”
“My King and,” I snarled, scooping my arm around Livia’s waist. “Does it look like I am the only royal here?”
The man’s eyes widened, he seemed uncertain but bowed at the waist. “Forgive me, My Lady—”
“Queen, you bastard. She is not only the lady of the palace, she is the Ever Queen.”
Livia drew in a sharp breath through her nose but did not shrink against me. If our bond remained, doubtless I would sense her heightened pulse, the pull she often felt to disappear when she grew uneasy. She fought it, no mistake, she stood straighter, claimed her position.
“Of course,” he said and offered a fresh bow, facing Livia. “Highness. Welcome.”
“Don’t make me remind you again,” I snarled and ushered Livia inside ahead of me.
The footman hurried out a greeting to the others, merely naming them as, “Honored guests.”
“So this is your House of Tides.” Jonas laughed. “Wonderful way to earn a bit of fealty, My King. Snap and bite at every soul you see.”
I huffed and looked out the window, slipping my fingers through Livia’s. Haggard folk lined the roads, empty, almost despondent. What the hells? Joron had always built his ego upon the shoulders of his fine lands, his proud folk, his glorious trade.
The people we passed seemed as though they were weakening with each step.
Valen followed the folk out the other window. “It was the right move.”
“What was?” Jonas asked.
“If the perception of her authority is to change, he must not allow disrespect for his queen. Not in the slightest.” Valen spoke so plainly, so in favor of my outburst, I wasn’t certain I’d heard him correctly.
“Speaking from experience, Daj?” Livia pinched her lips.
“Yes.”
“Gods.” Livia shook her head. “Why have you and Maj not told us all these sordid details about your history?”
Valen grinned. “And allow you to see me as less than perfectly in control of my temper? I think not, little love.”
“I never thought I’d say it, Serpent,” Livia whispered, “but you have a great deal more in common with my father than I thought.”
True enough. The more I learned of my father’s killer, the more I understood his moves, his brutality, like I was seeing myself reflected through a pane of glass. Every step, even the death of the Ever King, had been to defend his queen, his family, his people.
It was a short distance to Joron’s manor, a wood and wattle structure made of three levels and simple blue banners waving in the breeze from every window, meant to mimic the flow of the sea.
“King Erik, what an honored surprise.” From atop a stone stoop, Joron watched us emerge one by one, sneering, his tone so pretentious I thought he might cough from the effort of speaking through his nose.
A woman with silver hair—like a flash of starlight—stood two paces at his back. Her chin was lifted in defiance, her dark eyes like an underwater abyss.
I ignored Joron, looking to the woman instead. “Lady Avaline. I have not seen you in court.”
Avaline Mindtaker was a mere turn younger than Livia. She ought to have been to the royal city as a courtier long ago, but Joron never parted with his precious gift.
She dipped her chin. “Highness. My father feels I am better suited here.”
Of course, he did. “Joron. Like I told your footman, I will have you address the queen properly. It aggravates me when she is ignored.”
Joron sneered, beastly and with unmasked derision, and tipped his head. “Welcome to the House of Tides, Queen.”
Only queen. Not his queen. I wanted to forgo our plans and split Joron’s sneer across his face permanently.
“I was pleased to hear the king was arriving,” Joron said, swirling his flute of wine more than sipping. “Although, I am unfamiliar with your guests.”
“Then you’ve proven yet again how little fighting you did during the war.” I opened my arm to the earth fae. “Allow me to introduce the royal lines of the earth realms, and the earth bender, king of the Night Folk fae.”
Joron’s eyes bulged. “You . . . stand with the Ever King’s killer?”
“The Ever King is not dead.” I patted my chest. “If you speak of the former king, then yes. I stand with those who stand with my queen. Her father seems to do that well enough.”
The bastard smoothed down his garish doublet and sniffed. “Of course. Naturally. Well, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?”
“Surely you’ve heard, Joron. We’re a kingdom divided.”
Joron sipped slowly, pale eyes unblinking. “There’s been talk. I take it you’ve come to petition me for my support against . . . another heir of Thorvald, am I understanding correctly?”
“Actually, I care little about your support.” I pointed to his daughter. “We seek an audience with Lady Avaline.”
A flush filled her pale cheeks, taken off guard. But the slightest flicker of a grin painted her lips, as though the notion of speaking to another soul that was not Joron brought her a true thrill.
A scowl crept over Joron’s slanted features, a storm rolling over the sea, slow to build and vicious. “I’m afraid I cannot permit it, My King. My daughter does not take well to other people. Certainly not such strangers as earth fae.”
“She seems to be handling it just fine,” Sander said.
Joron frowned. “Surely you’ve heard of her fits, King Erik.”
Avaline hung her head and took a small step backward.
“I’ve heard,” I said. “Though, strangely, have never witnessed one.”
“Only because I have kept her within our walls.”
“I need to speak to your daughter.” Time for patience was at an end.
“And, again, I am afraid for the wellbeing of my daughter, I must refuse.” Joron dipped his chin with derision. “Respectfully.”
Respectfully, I’d cut off his balls and shove them down his damn throat if he sneered at me once more.
“What do you say, Avaline?”
She jolted, lifting her gaze. Avaline shot a look to Joron’s twisted face. He glared at her, puckering his features like drawstrings cinched his brow and lips.
In her silence, I’d not noticed Livia had peered around the corner of his home until another hacking cough drew out her panicked tone.
“Erik!” Livia was on her knees. “Gods, look.”
“I beg your pardon.” Joron rushed for the edge of his manor. “There is nothing of interest to the House of Kings, and I do not permit unprovoked rummaging.”
On Joron’s first step toward Livia, he was met with the curved edge of a battle axe propped beneath his chin. Valen’s eyes were black as slate.
Avaline let out a shriek of surprise and covered her mouth, but she did not cower, merely watched as each step Valen took nudged Joron back toward the entrance of his manor. “Don’t go near her,” was all the earth bender said.
“King Erik?” Joron looked horrified, mouth parted, eyes bewildered.
“What would you like me to do? I think he should bury you within your own lands until we’re finished.”
Mira trailed her fingers over Joron’s shoulder, a chilling kind of darkness written in her bright eyes. “I wonder how long you could live buried in the earth before madness set in?”
Tait’s brow flicked, but he turned his gaze to his pocket watch and cursed. “There is danger here.”
“What is so important about that damn clock?” Mira said in a hiss under her breath.