Chapter 12
The Serpent
Earth fae were vicious. And at times they weren’t, and I did not know what to make of those moments.
No mistake, they slaughtered well. A long canal the sea folk used to appear or flee was black with blood.
Even damn Gavyn showed. Looked half dead after trying to shift through the Chasm himself. Seemed like the thrashing current nearly tore him to bits. He’d fallen right in front of a scarred earth fae. I expected to watch him die, but the man shoved Gavyn into the water, told him to flee.
He’d done the same to Tait.
Why didn’t they kill an enemy when they had the chance?
Battles had eased. A respite called. Night fell over the makeshift camp we’d claimed at the shore. I’d spent some time using my blood to heal my men. Some were overseen by boneweavers and sea witches. We’d lost a great deal.
But in truth, so had the earth fae.
I couldn’t sit in this camp and fight another battle. I couldn’t watch my folk fall in their own blood. Earth folk offered a few mercies today, but on the morrow, I did not know if they would do the same. I had to challenge the earth bender, respite or not, then turn from this damn realm for good.
“Are you leaving?”
I spun around. Tait stood on the edge of the camp. His lip bled from a gash and his little finger looked bent at an odd angle.
“Go to sleep, cousin. I don’t wish to see you.” I turned my back on him again lest he see any hint of relief that his heart still beat.
Tait sighed. “You can’t go out there alone.”
I bared my teeth, drawing my face close. “I do not need your permission to do anything. Speak nothing of this and return to your damn tent.”
Tait’s jaw pulsed, like he fought a retort. In the end he shook his head and sauntered back toward the camp. I quickened my pace, gritting my teeth through the tension in my leg, and slipped into the trees.
I had an enemy king to find.
Bleeding gods. Death was everywhere. The earth fae position was not so difficult to locate, not when all I heard was wailing and cries of the mournful.
From where I perched on a branch, hidden behind thick, pointed leaves, I scanned the rows and rows of fallen and injured earth fae, searching for one that would be familiar. One I did not wish to see staring at the sky, lifeless.
“I sang his song!” A woman materialized from the shadows. She pressed her brow to the chest of the scarred earth fae, the one who’d saved Gavyn and Tait.
My heart stilled. Near the woman, kneeling on the ground, was the warrior. Alive. I fought the urge to smile.
When I looked into the trees a few paces, I understood their pain. Folk bustled about, shouting for linens, for healing. A man was on the ground between them, another man pleading for him to keep breathing. I looked back at Stieg. The warrior had his head bowed, a palm to his heart.
This was a painful moment.
I let out a soft hiss. I needed to bleeding challenge the earth bender, but…godsdammit, debts had to be paid in equal measure. I maneuvered out on the branch a little more and called down, “He mean something to you, Warrior?”
The man shot to his feet, sword out. At the sight of me, his brow furrowed. “Leave, Erik.” His voice was pained, broken. “We looked out for each other once, remember? I’m asking you as that fellow prisoner to leave this be.”
Perhaps it would be wise to listen. I stole a glance at the dying fae. “His heart still beating?”
Stieg hesitated. “I don’t know.”
I frowned. “Does he mean something to you?”
“Yes. He is like a brother to me. A close friend.”
Well, shit.
With care, I slid from the branch. I clenched my teeth when I landed on the ground, rubbing my thigh free of the ache in my bones. “I’m in your debt for saving me a time or two, so I’ll do it to repay you.”
Stieg’s face shadowed. “Do what?”
I sliced my thumb over my sharp tooth and glared at him. “What do you think?”
“Bleeding gods.” The warrior’s eyes brightened when he understood. “You’d do this? You’d sing, boy?”
“If it squares us.” I meant it. Debts for looking after me ten turns ago needed to be settled.
Stieg wasted no time and led me closer to the dying man. More than one earth fae huddled around him. Must’ve been of some importance to have so many kings and queens trying to keep him alive.
The earth bender was close. I froze, refusing to sing a damn tune if he remained near to me. I was a bleeding fool, choosing to save an enemy over slaughtering one all because a warrior was kind to a boy.
I could lie, let the fae die, then shove my bloody thumb into the earth bender’s eye socket.
Perhaps I was weak, for I ignored such thoughts and gave a man I did not know, a man who fought against my folk, my blood.
I sang.
Slow, steady. The injured fae jolted under my palms. A man I thought might’ve been the dying fae’s lover tried to stop me, thinking I was killing him. Other earth fae stopped him from attacking me.
My blood overheated. The power to heal left me whirling like my skull was filled with a stormy sea. I slumped to one side and looked for Stieg in the crowd. “Wound’s closed. That’s all I can do. Hope you didn’t wait too long.”
Every limb felt like iron when I rose to my feet.
A woman with hair like wild gold stepped in front of me, a sort of glaze to her eyes. “Your story is only beginning. Take care with the hearts you claim.”
I had no plans to claim any heart but the earth bender’s. Instead of speaking to the odd woman, I glared at Stieg. “Consider my debt square, Warrior.”
“Erik,” he said. “You don’t want this fight.”
“My debt with your warrior is clear.” I found the earth bender and pointed one finger at the king. “But with you—it will never be cleared until blood spills.”
The earth bender looked weary. His shoulders slouched. “We don’t have to be enemies, boy.”
Familiar rage simmered in my chest. “Is that what you told my father right before you killed him? Consider this truce at an end.”
I gave them no time to make an attempt to capture me, kill me, or negotiate. Gods, I was a bleeding fool. What if that was my only opportunity to restore the mantle? I’d wasted it on some sod I did not know.
Alone in the deep wood, I slammed my fists against a thick tree, bellowing my frustration, my disdain for myself.
Thorvald, Harald, the whole of the kingdom, they all were right. I was made of weakness. A king who thought with his heart this night. The caring side of your heart makes you powerful.
My maj lied. I was not powerful, I was a scourge in my father’s legacy.
And my kingdom would suffer for it.
“There you are.” Stormbringer was the first to meet me on the edge of our camp. He had one good eye, the other lost in a skirmish at the Tower three turns back. He’d always been the level-headed sort, but he was frantic now. “Apologies, me king, but we got trouble.”
“What?”
“Young Heartwalker.”
My insides backflipped. “What happened?”
Stormbringer hesitated.
“Tell me!”
“Lord Harald. He, well, he seemed angrier than normal. Started takin’ it out on Heartwalker, as he does at times. It’s not our place to be sayin’, but we had to stop him, King Erik. Had to. He was gonna kill him, and that’ll be goin’ against blood oaths to the crew.”
All the loathing I kept for my own actions coiled like a barbed lash in the center of my chest. “Does Tait need blood?”
“He’s not awake. Harald knocked him good, so maybe so. He’s earned a few broken bones.”
“Where is my uncle?”
“Went to his tent. Drunk as piss, if you don’t mind me sayin’, me king.”
“Good.” I faced Stormbringer. He was a loyal sod, one of the more honorable men I knew. “I want you to keep everyone away from Harald’s tent, understand?”
Stormbringer dipped his chin. “Aye.”
Tait’s face was more battered than when I left him.
As Stormbringer said, his arm was snapped at the wrist, the other shoulder pulled out of place.
He winced and groaned in his sleep when I offered a few drops of blood, humming low under my breath.
Just enough he’d be able to keep swinging blades on the morrow, but not enough he’d know for certain if I healed him or a boneweaver.
I crossed the camp and opened the flap to my uncle’s tent.
Harald was sprawled across a few unrolled furs, arms out, an empty bottle of fiery spiced rum in one palm. His breaths were loud, deep, like a creature who could not breathe right.
I chuckled at the strangeness of this night. Not even a chime before I’d saved an enemy from the Otherworld, now I stood here, delighted to slaughter one of my own.
I didn’t bite my thumb for blood, instead I took out a knife from my boot and slid the edge over my palm.
There would not be any doubt if I had enough blood to see this through.
My steps were soft, hardly there. Harald had blood across his tunic, his palms. No doubt it belonged to his son. But there were some places where gashes remained from shallow strikes during the battle. I had no plans to risk this going awry.
I held my bloody palm over one wound on my uncle’s thigh and allowed three drops to fall into the gash. The slightest hiss followed, like the poison burned. Harald grimaced in his sleep, but didn’t wake. Ah, that wouldn’t do at all.
He had to be party to his own death. Where was the fun in dying in one’s sleep?
I made quick work of straddling my uncle’s chest and striking his jaw with my fist. Harald jolted awake, more red in his eyes than white. When he recognized me, his face went bloodless.
Gods, I’d cling to that look. I thought it might brighten every memory of this night, enough I might be able to forget I’d betrayed my own kingdom.
“You look frightened, Uncle.” One corner of my mouth curved, flashing my elongated canine. “Good.”
Harald’s eyes were dark, no longer tinted in crimson. In his gaze was only hate.
I gripped his hair and lowered my mouth closer to whisper near his ear.
“I have the poison blood, but you are a plague to the Ever, to the royal house. Prepare yourself, this will hurt.”
I kept my bloody palm over Harald’s mouth, feeling his body struggle against the spreading venom in his blood. While he weakly fought against me, I used my blade to slash across his cheeks, carving open wounds from the corner of his lips, to the bridge of bone beneath his eyes.
He cried out, muffled under my grip. I dug the tip of the blade between his ribs, twisting and digging, like I wanted to slash up his heart without opening his chest.
I hated him. Cursed him under my breath. Blood stained the furs beneath his body. All I could see was my cousin. Godsdammit, the things Harald had done went far beyond rage.
The things Tait kept only to himself.
Jaw tight, I used my knee to press against Harald’s throat. His skin had gone a sickly puce. There wasn’t much time. He reeked of piss from soiling himself, his skin was crimson with his own gore.
Still, I held his stare. “You’ll never touch him again.”
Harald convulsed once, twice, then went still. Limp.
Dead.
For a long pause, I didn’t move, simply stared at Harald’s corpse. He was…gone. Turns I’d thought of this moment, hoped for it and feared it. Despite his cruelty, Harald took on the burdens of the crown when I was too young.
Now…it was only me. Anger, hatred, violence. After tonight, it was clear, those were what made the Ever King.
I shoved his body aside, despising him even more for carving me into exactly what he always wanted me to be—a monster.
A cowardly monster who saved enemies and killed his own blood. A monster who hated folk and cared in equal measure, then hated them more for causing the caring.
A sting built behind my eyes. No. I was not going to bleeding cry. Instead, I stood and swung my boot into the ribs of my dead uncle. Again. Again. I kicked and stomped on his ribs until I could not draw a deep breath.
With the knife I’d used to carve my palm, I sliced a deep gash across Harald’s throat. It didn’t bleed enough, and I doubted anyone on the Ever Crew would believe Harald was killed by some earth fae assassin in the night.
Doubtless most would know who killed him. I wasn’t certain they’d care.
I tucked the knife back into my boot and abandoned the tent. Without a glance at Stormbringer who stood ten paces off, I ducked into my own tent and buried my face in the furs laid out for a simple bed.
Traitor. Monster. King.
Perhaps when battles began again, the earth bender would spare me a bit of shame and bury me beneath the soil.