The Ever Queen (The Ever Seas Book 2)

The Ever Ship rocked mercilessly. Belowdecks, at the gaping mouth of the hull door, Jonas grabbed my elbow, steadying me when we lurched forward.

“Gods, get me back on land,” he murmured.

Sea water rushed into the hull, swallowing our ankles, our knees.

We had marks to meet, roles to play. Apart, yet Erik and I fought together to protect our kingdom. Sander was the one who’d puzzled through the scheme of where we would all be most useful. Despise it as I did, he wasn’t wrong. Earth fae and Alver folk like him were strongest on the soil.

Larsson’s threats—forces on land and sea—offered up that Natthaven and its armies would match the lands of the royal city. Larsson’s fight was with the sea, but Arion would bring victory on elven lands.

“Jonas,” I said, voice half-formed, no more than a gasp. “I know the neach-dai brings out a need to defend me, but do not do anything that will take you from us.”

He shook his head, grinning. “I am going to tell you something gods-awful heartfelt. I’ve always had the compulsion to keep the lot of you fools safe. I wouldn’t know what to do without any of you. Nothing has changed, I’m merely protecting your kingdom, and in turn, still protecting you.”

Jonas was playful, a bit of a rake, but what he’d done, what he’d offered to win this battle, I wasn’t convinced Erik even knew what to think of it. The Ever King had been rather somber around my friend since, studying him, like Erik could simply not figure the nightmare prince’s motivations in the least.

Once the tides gathered round our waists, we—my father, Tait, and fellow royals—dove into the currents. My lungs burned, my muscles ached. I kicked fiercely, swimming away from the Ever Ship.

The will to remain, to take up a role at Erik’s side, was nauseating. The thought of him boarding Larsson’s vessel, the truth of what he would face, churned my heart until it was nothing but a bloody pulp against my ribs.

I closed my eyes and dug my palms into the water, catapulting me farther from the ship.

Red flashes of the spears firing flickered above us, but when the tumult lessened, I arched for the surface. Only my brow and half my nose breached the tides. Straight ahead loomed the fading isle.

Mira’s head bobbed beside me, half hidden in the currents. She flicked her kohl-wrapped eyes to me and gave me a quick nod, then sank back beneath the water.

Slowly, a bit of sea mist, a touch of fog, some thicker trees formed along the shore to allow us space to slip onto the beach unseen. I’d never tire of Mira’s illusions. Mira could manipulate entire landscapes like a painting to reveal something new, subtle enough it went unnoticed.

One by one, we stepped from the river bank, crouched low in a forest made of half-truths. Illusions of peeling bark on aspen trees, and dewy leaves shrouding our faces, were so real, I could breathe in the clean rain scent as we strode past.

Alek kept a steady hand on the small of Mira’s back, guiding her forward. Her eyes were closed, and her palms were opened at her sides. Focused. Deliberate. No mistake, if we went undisturbed, she’d be able to hold the illusion most of the way.

Palms out, I took on a bit of the burden. Fury heated the tips of my fingers, drawing an unseen tether to the isle, the soil, the dew on blossoms, until I could sense the pulse of life from root to bloom. True branches on real trees thickened, as though creating a canopy overhead. Grass lengthened, shrouding us to our knees.

As we crept forward, I hurried to explain the wooden paths that led to palace steps, where to avoid stepping too deeply into inner swamplands, and where, those who needed to, would find their way into the fortress.

My father crouched, drawing a finger in the soil, casting the occasional look around, as he mapped our location. We each repeated our marks and signals.

“Let’s get this over with.” Aleksi shook out his hands and drew his Rave short blade. He cut a glance to the swirls of clouds wrapped around the ships. Booms and flashes of light carved through the darkness every few breaths. “Bloodsinger will need us all.”

“Daj,” I said, eyes only on the palace ahead. “Time to draw them out.”

My father was a formidable force, he always had been in my eyes. I’d watched him spar with the Rave, knew he’d toppled tyrannical kingdoms, knew he’d lived with insatiable bloodlust. To stand beside him now was an honor. I’d harbored secret insecurities as a Ferus, as though our world would always keep me shadowed in the legacy of my parents.

To see my father, a king, the lone earth bender in a thousand turns, bend the knee at my command was humbling. It was empowering. To know he trusted my abilities and my word bolstered my strength, even numbed a few fears threatening to bend my spine beneath their weight.

My father splayed his palm over the soil. He closed his eyes.

I took hold of a tree limb when bursts of rock and soil flung into the air. The ground rolled and shook. It bent like nothing more than a jagged stick carving a line in the sand. Daj split the soil, crumbling more than one wall around the palace.

The same harrowing bells from the night I’d escaped rang out from the belltowers. Guards, readied with blades and arrows, emerged from behind doors, walls, and trees.

“Mira,” Sander shouted. “Light the sky.”

My friend hesitated, still holding the illusions that kept us hidden.

I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Mir, it’s time.”

Her amber eyes were glassy as she took in each of our faces. “Any of you bleeding fools die, I will never sit with you in the hall of the gods, hear me? And I will be the life of the revel in the Otherworld, so stay alive. Gods, even you, Hearttalker.”

“I’m not dying tonight, Princess,” Tait grumbled without correcting his name. He looked to his clock. “Send the signal. Danger is rising. We’re out of time.”

Mira closed her eyes and flung her hands upward. Shadows and mists abandoned us, but flashes of silver and blue shattered the dark sky overhead. An illusion of stars spiraling down from the heavens, beautiful, yet unbelievable, like thousands of gleaming blades slicing through the billows of dark storm clouds.

Without the added shields of Mira’s illusions, it took no time at all for the elven guards to spot us on the open shore.

“Go!” I shoved Mira into Jonas and Sander. Both twins had blackened the whites of their eyes.

Jonas hesitated, rubbing his chest. “I need you to say it plainly, Liv. It’s keeping me close to you.”

“Jonas, if you do not hit your mark, we have no way in. This is how you protect the Ever Kingdom.”

A muscle throbbed in his cheek, but slowly, Jonas drifted away from me. Faster and faster still, until he sprinted after his brother and Mira.

“Livia,” my father shouted, unsheathing one axe. “Be fierce, little love.”

I clenched my jaw so tight it seized. There, in the trees, rounded shields of blue were aligned, shoulder to shoulder. Points of swords aimed over the tops. Rows of guards stomped onto the shore. From the parapets and scattered treetops, archers pulled bowstrings taut.

They surrounded us, their four remaining enemies—an earth bender, a sea fae, a warrior prince, and a queen—and, no mistake, thought this fight over before it truly began.

Upon a shrill whistle, the rows of shields parted. Arion shoved through. Wretchedly handsome, he appeared even more powerful than last I’d seen the man. Black straps kept his golden blades on his powerful chest and legs. His fiery hair was tied off his neck, and the gold caps over his pointed ears had been replaced with silver.

“We take to battle for all elven folk!” He spoke to bolster his warriors, but his snide, wretched glee at the sight of battle couldn’t be contained. He risked their blood, all to win himself a throne.

This was not for his people, this was for him.

Over his shoulder, Fione’s pointed features came into view. It was the first I’d seen the sea witch out of flowing silken gowns. She wore tight hosen, boots to her thighs, and stiletto knives encircled her waist. Pinned to her belt was a whale skin pouch, doubtless holding her spells and potions.

“This is the army of the Ever King?” Arion scoffed, a shadow in his eyes. “I’m insulted.”

“He is an earth bender,” Fione sneered. “I didn’t believe the rumor to be true. Bloodsinger managed to convince his father’s killer to keep him breathing.”

“Ah. I have plans for your fae realms. I find them bothersome and mismanaged,” Arion said. “I think I shall take them for myself. Why not? We’re taking the sea, simple enough to take yours.”

“Why not?” My father remained unruffled, almost bored. How? I didn’t know. My heart felt as though it had taken up in the back of my throat.

Arion flicked a palm at the split stones surrounding the palace. “If this is the best you can do, I rather like my odds.”

My daj didn’t even smirk. He rolled his axe once in his grip. “Why don’t we find out.”

With a derisive scoff, Arion turned his back on us. “Kill them and make it swift. I’d like to end this little skirmish before sunset and get on with well-overdue vows.”

Arrows realigned and adjusted. Fione’s lip curled as she turned after Arion, returning to the palace. The elven prince was meant to rise as the victor in battle, but he would do it on the backs of his people. He’d sit atop a seat, sipping his wine, and claim a throne while men died for his sake.

Tait clicked the cover over his watch, a curve in the corner of his mouth, like he fought a grin.

The moment Arion turned his back on us, he jolted when a spear rammed through the chest of the guard one pace from him. The elven prince wheeled around, eyes wide.

Water split in a spray of angry waves as the ashen sails of the Shadow Wing carved through the surface. Narza’s ship was made of three levels, and thick sails that looked more like the clouds overhead than canvas.

From the shallows, faces emerged. Witches, sirens, sea singers with their mutilated features, rose from the tides, spears and swords raised.

But Maelstrom, standing like a bit of carved stone, lowered his arm, grinning as the impaled guard fell forward.

Lines and lines of sea folk stormed the shore of the isle, dropping their herbs and vials in bursts of smoke and rancid scents.

“Fione!” A trio of sea witches screeched and raged at the sight of their house traitor.

One tossed a pouch. Fione hissed and held up her palms. A wash of sea water swallowed the pouch in the same moment it flashed in flames, doused in the swell of tides.

The witches bared their teeth and readied more blades and spells.

Another guard twitched and stumbled forward when blood dripped from his pores. He stumbled toward my cousin. Alek’s eyes were dark as a raven’s wing. He held out one hand, then another, summoning two more guards.

Locked in Alek’s blood summoning glamour, it took Tait no time to ram his cutlass into the ribs and spines of the guards until they toppled in a heap at my cousin’s feet.

“You said the witches did not stand with him,” Arion snarled at Fione.

Her chest heaved. She blinked, unease carved into her porcelain face. “They . . . they don’t. They didn’t.”

“Shield us,” Arion snarled.

Fione scrambled for the pouch on her waist, desperate and frantic, but she fumbled when a clap of thunder shook the whole of the isle. Cyclones burst from the sea, great torrents of water and wind beat against the army.

Maelstrom stood in the shallows, hands stretched over his head, calling out the rage of the sea. On the deck of the Shadow Wing, Narza had her palms down, pulling up water to meet his fury.

Bleeding hells, they were fearsome together.

Sand whipped against us, sharp pricks against cheeks and eyes. I blinked, grinning at the sight of the elven struggling to hold their arrows, their swords. They used their shields to guard up against the winds.

“Kill them!” Arion roared, but he, too, blinked rapidly, unable to keep his eyes open against the sand.

Narza and Maelstrom released their spell as one and launched a fierce wave over the shore. I fell to my knees, palms flat, and urged something, anything to help earth folk hold steady. Aleksi cried out in a bit of shock when slimy coils of underwater weeds broke through the damp sand. They curled around my cousin’s ankles, my father’s thighs, and my waist.

When the rogue wave hit, we were bolstered in place.

Not so for the elven. Shields were lost, men tossed back, and some ran for higher ground. Arion grappled for a stone, holding him steady against the burst of water. Fione faded into the frenzy.

Narza’s crew spilled over the rails of their ship, invading the isle without end. My heart swelled to hear Narza’s dark satin voice ordering her house to take up arms for their king, their queen, their home.

When Jonas had devised the exchange for her vow to remain and defend the earth realms, I’d half expected her to return to the Ever and watch, once again, as her grandson faced a war. Cynical of me, perhaps, but to see her, fierce as ever, I let out a cry of my own rage at the line of what remained of the elven guard.

Arion stumbled again as soil underfoot cracked between their feet. The elven prince lunged to the side, desperate to avoid slipping into the ravine.

My father rolled an axe in his grip, head cocked. “Well, shall we find out how this will go?”

Arion drew his blade. He held my father’s hateful stare. Then, as the water from the wave retreated, he and his men sprinted onto the beach.

An elven guard with a crooked nose and a gilded longsword rushed for me. I blocked his strike and twisted in a way to avoid a slice to the back from his quick-footed shift.

His blade cut a path toward my chest. I leaned back, narrowly missing the point. My dagger cut his ribs; my boot smashed against the side of his knee. He seethed at me as if he didn’t feel a thing.

The guard slammed his thick fist into my mouth, tossing me backward.

“Livia!” Deep like the thunder overhead, my father called for me, then threw his axe.

The curved edge sliced into the spine of the guard. He grunted and slumped to his knees. I coughed blood and wasted no time before slamming my dagger through the back of his neck.

With only one axe, Valen Ferus turned to fury. Arion tripped over curses when my father chased the prince with jagged barbs of rock that burst through the beach.

Fire aimed at our folk from the elven magic was extinguished by the screams of witches. Sirens hummed melodic, heart-wrenching songs. Tait roared at Aleksi and my father to fill their ears. They swung blades, stuffing sand and sea weeds to battle their own draw to the sirens. Elven, caught in their silken voices, stumbled, entranced, toward the sea.

Over the din of screams and clotting storm clouds, I caught sight of a pale face in the mists. Fione. The sea witch took in the battle with horror, then rushed into the trees.

I smiled, adjusted my grip on my blade, and sprinted for the wood.