Chapter 2 The Heartwalker
The Heartwalker
Alistair caught me straightaway.
“Young lord.” The man was plump and looked like he might’ve been five hundred turns the way his hair bled to white on the sides.
I slumped my shoulders a little more, as though the shadows might hide me even though he caught me. “Not a lord, Ali.”
“Alistair.” The steward sniffed. “And what, may I ask, are you doing out here, young Heartwalker?”
My eyes narrowed. “Nothin’. Mind your business.”
“Ah, well, that my young lord, I would adore. Minding my own business, not a care in the world. Alas, the young prince is my business. So, I shall ask you again, why are you sneaking into the prince’s chamber?”
Hells, I hated that my chin trembled. “Because I bet…he’s sad.
Daj told me Auntie Oline’s gone. Don’t tell the king.
” From behind my back I pulled out the book of sea tales Auntie Oline had been reading to the two of us for the last few weeks.
“Thought we could finish it together. She’d want it, right? For him not to be alone.”
All my life I’d lived in the palace and never had I seen Alistair’s face so twisted up, like maybe his chin might’ve been trembling too. “Aye, young lord.”
He stepped near my cousin’s door and opened the latch. I didn’t even correct him on the bleeding title before I rushed inside.
“Keep quiet, the both of you.” The steward slowly backed out of the room and locked the door behind him.
Erik’s chamber was a whole lot bigger than mine. He had lots of parchment and charcoal sticks scattered across the rug in the first room. His maj always encouraged him to draw his thoughts, helped him feel, she said.
Daj always rolled his eyes when I repeated the same thing, but he wouldn’t speak out against his brother’s mate. Not until now. Daj hadn’t even seemed all that upset and I didn’t like it.
I hugged the book against my chest and crept into the bedchamber.
Small sniffles and whimpers came from the lump in the center of the bed.
Erik had one of the half dozen pillows shoved against his face, but his cries were loud enough I could still hear.
His knees were tucked up and every few breaths his shoulders shook.
Maybe this was a bad idea. I turned to leave…
“Tay?” Erik had the pillow pulled back, just enough I could see one of his red, swollen eyes. He never said my name all the way. I didn’t mind.
It hurt to smile, but I did it anyway. “I, um…you okay?”
Erik’s face pinched and he buried his face back in his pillow.
Damn. I didn’t mean to curse, but I’d gone and messed him up all over again.
With the book on the edge of the bed, I crawled across the satin coverlets and plopped on the other side of the pillow.
I was two turns older and that meant I had to look out for him.
We weren’t brothers like our dajs’ were, but it never stopped me from thinking of him like he was mine.
I paused for a moment, considering he might not like me touching him, then gave in and draped one arm around Erik’s shoulders, the pillow squished between us.
It took only a moment, a few heartbeats, before Erik tossed the pillow away and his smaller arms hooked around my neck. He cried louder.
I didn’t know much about making hearts happier, but I’d seen Auntie Oline pat Erik’s head when he skinned his knee and no one wanted to touch his blood. His maj held him anyway. She kissed my forehead once and told me I was strong when one of the crewmen said I was too scrawny to be a real sailor.
With a jerky palm, I patted the top of his head. “It’s all right. It’ll be all right.”
Erik shook his head. “I did it, Tay.”
“Did what?”
Erik sniffed and scooted back from me, tears on his cheeks. “Killed Maj.”
My eyes went wide. “Did you mean to?”
He shook his head, face scrunched in a new rush of tears. “No. Daj said I got to.”
Hells. It wasn’t no secret that the Ever King didn’t much like his mate anymore. Oline didn’t seem to care, so long as she had Erik. But makin’ my cousin kill her…
I took note of the bandage on his palm. Thorvald was my uncle, but I liked Erik a whole lot more than I liked the king.
I’d never tell my daj that, not when Daj liked his brother so much.
Something tight grew in my belly. Like I’d swallowed too much water.
It was heavy and made me a little sick. A touch of dark thoughts followed, like they bloomed from my twisted belly into my skull.
Thoughts like the Ever King falling overboard and striking one of the sharp spines jutting out of the hull of the ship.
Or maybe Thorvald slipping and snapping his neck when Erik wasn’t around to heal him.
Never had I hated my uncle so much I wanted him dead, but I hated him for what he’d done today. For making Erik kill the maj who loved him more than anything.
For taking Oline from both of us.
I’d keep my hate a secret. Stupid Thorvald was all Erik had now, and I didn’t much know if my cousin loved him or not.
With the back of my hand I swiped at a hot tear that fell without permission, then snatched the book of fables off the mattress. “I was thinkin’ we could finish her story. I’ll stay here tonight, then sneak out before the sun.”
For the first time, a bit of something like light flickered in my cousin’s eyes. “You can’t read.”
“I can try’n guess ’em with the, you know, the drawings.”
After a moment, Erik shrugged, then curled his head on the damp pillow. I took the one next to him and lifted the book over our heads so we could both see the images inside.
When it was over, Erik hugged the book to his heart. I let him. It came from my room, but he could have the book if he wanted.
“We’re gonna miss her,” I said, voice soft.
“But just remember, Auntie Oline is finding the best swimming coves for when you see her again. I bet she’s plannin’ so many things to do, like skippin’ stones but they’ll be the gods’ stones, so they’ll go so far.
Just think of her doin’ all those things until we meet in the Otherworld. ”
Without asking if he’d think it strange, I took hold of my cousin’s hand. He didn’t pull back.
Blood heated under my skin, and a thought came—one that wasn’t my own—but that was how my voice worked. I could see the desires of a heart, feel them. And Erik desired the song his maj always sang until he fell asleep each night.
One thing I’d really miss about Auntie Oline was her voice. So soft, almost like a sweet haunt. She’d hum and sing her favorite shanty every day, usually in her gardens.
I sang her song until Bloodsinger didn’t cry anymore.