The Ever King: A Dark Fantasy Romance (The Ever Seas Book 1)
The Ever King: Chapter 24

Livia hated me. I should hate her, but there was a weak, pathetic piece of me that could not turn away from the woman. I couldn’t rid my thoughts of her. To her, I might be hideous, but in spineless moments, I thought I might be content to kneel at her feet for the rest of my damn days if she healed the Ever.

When we returned to the Tower, I led her up the staircase to the highest rooms. My limp was more pronounced by making a second trip, and I caught Livia glance at it more than once.

“You’re to meet the Lady of the House of Mists,” I said once we were outside the door. “Some know her as the lady of witches and the sirens.”

Livia shuddered. “And sea singers?”

“Aye, love. The House Lady favors the spell casting side. She won’t be luring you away.”

“A true sea witch?” Her voice was strained. “They’ve always been more folklore than real.”

“They are real, I assure you. Narza is a master at spell casting,” I said, “and not even she has been able to clear the darkening as you did.”

“Erik.” Livia tugged on my hand. “You must know something about my fury—my magic.”

“I know what you call your power,” I said, quickening our step on the stairs. “Walk and tell me.”

“When . . . when I dig deep enough, the land—” She let out a huff when her toe caught the edge of the stair. I held onto her until she righted again. “The land reveals moments to me.”

“Moments?”

She nodded. Her hands trembled, each slender finger betraying the turmoil she tried to keep hidden. “Secrets are heard by the trees, the flowers, the earth. Blood and bone from death, be it battle or murder or the aged, it doesn’t matter, the earth knows.”

“You can see what has happened on the land?”

“Yes.” Livia shifted. “Normally, I only see what has happened in that place. But with this darkening, it’s different. Today I thought I saw someone in the shadows of my mind. I think they had some knowledge of the darkening, but I couldn’t make them out. There was pain and I think a death. Erik, I don’t know how it was caused, but I don’t believe it to be something natural. It is a curse.”

My body hummed in a sense of dread. I’d thought it was decay from the closed Chasm. What if it was darker? What if it had been caused with intention?

“Stay beside me,” I warned, and continued our ascent to the tower.

The high tower room kept a chill, and after stewing for a few nights, the space smelled of damp oak moss and sweet smoked herbs.

“I expect you have much to tell me.” Narza’s voice came from one corner.

We shared blood through my mother, but that was the only similarity other than our proclivity to be vicious. Narza abandoned me after my mother’s death. Perhaps she had every right, but I still burned in resentment for her disregard when I’d needed her most.

Livia stiffened at my side. I took her hand and said nothing. “As promised, Lady Narza, I brought you the earth fae.”

Narza narrowed her eyes. “I assume you still believe this girl has some power over what plagues us here.”

With a tug, I drew Livia closer. It didn’t take much prodding. She eyed Narza with a bit of wariness and pressed her soft curves against my side. “She chases away the darkening; I want to know why.”

Narza circled Livia and me, a huntress to her prey. “Show me the mark.”

With a touch of hesitation, Livia pulled up the sleeve. Narza tightened her painted lips and touched the raised skin of the rune. Livia cried out in surprise when my grandmother dug the point of her fingernail into one straight edge drawing blood.

I stepped between them. “Do not draw her blood without warning again.”

Narza chuckled. “Rather protective of your pawn, darling.”

“I am King to you.”

“You are a boy whose nose I used to wipe clean.”

“Is that so?” I tilted my head. “I recall my youngest turns much differently, Grandmother.”

“Bleeding hells,” Livia muttered under her breath. “She’s your—”

“Grandmother? Oh, yes.” I bared my teeth at Narza. “You have your drop; get on with it.”

The sea witch watched the drop of Livia’s blood slide off her fingernail onto her palm. She rubbed her hands together, humming a slow, breathless sort of tune. The blood ignited into a white flame in the center of Narza’s hand.

My grandmother closed her eyes, humming, listening. The faint orb of light pulsed against the melody.

When Narza spoke again, her voice was dull, almost as though she spoke through a thick door. “You beautify the land, a lovely gift. Worthless during battle and survival, but how gentle, how sweet and precious you must be to your people.”

Livia flushed and gritted her teeth. “That is not all I can do.”

There was the fiercer side of my songbird.

“No, it isn’t.” Narza chuckled, eyes still closed. She rolled the glowing blood over her palm like a pebble. “Two healers now bear the mark of the House of Kings, both with their own darkness, but I sense if they were to unite as one, it might have wonderous consequences.”

My ability was nothing like Livia’s. I didn’t see how we could unite as one power.

“You heal what is broken, an amplifier of the earth.” For a moment, Narza paused, a furrow to her brow. “Strange.”

“What’s strange?”

Narza opened her eyes and stepped back. “Your magic flows from your heart, from desire.”

Livia cast me a nervous glance. “Fury is in the blood, yes. What does that matter?”

“It means your heart must bond with the land. Naturally, the land of your birth is part of your heart, but the Ever?” Narza’s lip twitched. “This is where your heart lies, or you would not be capable of accomplishing this healing. The land of your enemies holds value? I don’t understand it.”

All at once, the sea witch gripped Livia’s arm above the rune mark. “When did this appear? What were you doing? Tell me.”

I thought Livia might cry out, might tremble. She did nothing but yank her arm away and lift her chin. “It appeared after reading to a boy locked in a cell where his folk—the people who should’ve stood for him—were nowhere to be found.”

Damn. No one spoke harshly to Narza but me. Should folk lash out at the lady of witches they might soon replace themselves with misplaced limbs or a tongue that no longer spoke.

I considered stealing Livia away to safety in one breath and tasting that mouth again in the next. Instead, I battled my own stun when Narza seemed more troubled than perturbed an enemy had called out her dismal presence during the war.

“You cared for him?”

Now, Livia faltered. She cracked two knuckles at her sides. “I had compassion.”

“Lie all you wish, it does not change that you do not even realize the danger you are in by giving your heart to the Ever. Tell me, did you come near the Chasm leading up to the return of the Ever King?”

Livia froze.

Narza cursed under her breath. “That is answer enough. You broke the walls between you.” The witch leaned close to Livia’s face, voice low. “He will discover the truth of what happened to give you that mark. Desperate as he is, do you think he will show you the same compassion when he does?”

Livia’s breaths grew sharp, haggard. They sounded damn near painful.

“I-I . . .” She turned to me for a moment, gasping, then reached for the door. “I must go.”

Without a word, Livia abandoned the room. There was something off about all this. I felt as though it stood right before me, and I simply couldn’t see it.

“What was that?” I shouted.

“Think hard, King Erik,” Narza said, teeth bared. “The Chasm was closed to your blood until a woman who defied her people and comforted an enemy came near it. A woman who is drawn to the sea despite being of the earth clans with magic that thrives in your realm, thrives beside you.

“Fate smiled upon you, no mistake, for her gift is truly needed here, but to pull back such a fierce plague as this darkening, her power would need to bleed for the Ever. It does, I felt it, the draw, the desire, the sense of belonging. Think hard as to why, Grandson.”

Livia told me often she despised my kingdom and everything in it, but there were moments when her eyes lit with the thrill of discovery, when she seemed at peace. She’d admitted to being near the Chasm when it opened, and after ten turns of being a prisoner in my own realm, I was led to her.

Ten turns. My heart stopped.

The same allotment of time that had to pass before I could’ve challenged her father for Thorvald’s mantle, the punishment and price for losing a sea witch’s gift.

Narza kept her gaze on me as my mind reeled. The way I’d been pulled through the Chasm, the way I remained drawn to Livia. Each touch sparked in my veins. I thought I would replace Thorvald’s talisman when I returned, but I found her. She had the strength to heal my land exactly as I expected if ever I found . . .

No.

“Narza.” My voice was low, lost. It was dangerous. “Your magic lived in the Ever King’s mantle. Tell me if I’ve found the same power again.”

“So I can witness another betrayal of a gift that ought to have been strengthened through love?” She looked away, and lowered her voice. “Yes, you’ve been given that same chance, but you seek the approval of your sire too fiercely. Follow in his footsteps, and you will lose your mantle the same as him.”

Narza moved to the window. Without a word, without a pause, she waved her hand, and a splash of dark water wrapped around her shoulders like a cloak, and she was gone.

Alone, a new coil of pressure knotted in my chest. Shit, I needed to replace Livia.

Down in the corridor, Larsson and Tait stood on either side of the doorway, waiting.

“Where is she?” I quickened my pace until the cracks in my leg burned and protested under my skin.

“She came down upset,” Larsson said. “Tidecaller went with her to your chamber.”

I didn’t look back at them until we made it to the black oak doors on the noble floor.

“Erik,” Tait said under his breath. “What’s going on?”

I spun on my cousin. “Stay out.”

Tait’s mouth tightened. I knew he wished to say a thousand things, probably pin me down, arm bent behind my back, and slug me in the shoulder until I pleaded for mercy the way he did when we were boys.

He wouldn’t. Not in front of Larsson at least. Tait had too much respect—maybe fear—for the position of the king.

The front room of my chambers was dim, only the fire was aglow.

“I don’t get what has you like this.” Celine’s voice came from my bed chamber. “Calm down a little.”

Livia was leaning forward, breathing heavily, her elbows on her knees. She removed a serenleaf sprig and held it to her nose. Celine awkwardly patted her head as though that might help.

“Tidecaller,” I snapped.

She jumped and faced me. “I didn’t do anything to her, she’s just been like this since—”

“Leave.”

Celine didn’t argue. She knew me well enough to recognize when I needed to be on my own. With a bow to her chin, she slipped out of my room. Tears stained Livia’s cheeks as she rose from the edge of the bed. She wrung her hands in front of her body and tried to slow her breathing.

Whatever this connection had become, I could sense where my heart and hers began. She was tumbling through unknowns, each one crushing her a little more, and soon they would choke the life from her.

I crossed the room and placed one palm on the side of her face, the other over the anguished beat of her heart.

The touch surged her pulse to her throat. Beneath my palms, the beat throbbed, but Livia didn’t pull back from me, she even tilted her face to my palm, as though leaning into my touch.

“You are Livia Ferus,” I whispered, “daughter of warriors, princess of earth magic, rebuker of the Ever King—”

She let out a snort. “Why does your voice help?”

I brushed a thumb over her cheekbone, wiping away a tear. “This fear takes your thoughts, and I won’t tell you not to let it; things are never so simple. But I will remind you of who you are, for you are a formidable foe.”

She lifted her glassy eyes to mine. “My mother always told me to breathe deeply.”

“Does that help?”

Livia hesitated. “Not the way you do, and I think I hate you for it. You should be horrid all the time.”

“I’ll try harder, Songbird.”

Her smile was pinched, and her chin quivered. I didn’t know what kind of magic or games of fate were at play here, but I would replace out now.

“The mantle was a gift for my father from Narza,” I said. “It was a gift to enhance the power of the Ever King. Should it be conquered or lost, the mantle could not be taken back for ten turns. All I could do was wait to challenge his killer.

“My uncle took particular care in preparing me to do so during the great war, but . . .” I shook my head. She couldn’t know what I’d done during the war. “There wasn’t an opportunity before I was locked in a cell.”

Livia placed her hands on my waist, almost like she wished to embrace me, but thought better of it.

“When the Chasm opened, I thought it was fate granting me a new opportunity, but I found you instead.” I softened my tone. “Where is my father’s mantle, Songbird?”

Her breath hitched. “Erik, I—”

“Where is it?” I already knew. Truth was written in the furrow of her brow, in the way she dropped her gaze to the floor.

“Please don’t hurt them because of me.” Her voice quivered.

“Where is it, love?”

Livia tightened her grip on my waist. “It’s gone. That night, that last night when I showed it to you, I tripped on my way back and . . . it shattered.”

I closed my eyes, throat tight, and let my forehead drop to hers. “What else?”

“The mark came right after,” she said. “I never told anyone except my cousin that it appeared because I broke the talisman. I even replaced the original with a wrapped gold plate. A plate, and still no one noticed. No one even looked. Despite what you think, it is not a proud thing for my folk. It is a painful symbol of an unwanted war.”

My father’s mantle, his true power, was gone. Games of the fates were in full bloom, and something new had been shaped from it.

“I knew the Ever would heal if I found the power of the king again,” I said softly. “I was right.”

Livia’s brows tugged together. “It’s broken. I’m . . . I’m sorry, Erik.”

“I thought it was my father’s power calling me through, but you called to me. You are drawn to the sea; you’re drawn to the Ever, to me.”

Livia visibly paled. “What are you saying?”

I touched my thumb to her bottom lip, tracing the gentle lines. “I found my mantle, Songbird. It’s you.”

I paused for half a breath, then I kissed her.