Page 53 of The Dark Sea Calls

“I’ll tell Elsbeth in the morning.” Tor turned from the chef and reached for the pot, his original target. He pulled off the lid, revealing a bubble charm to separate the water from the meat and its juices.

Cail threw his hands in the air, exasperated, and stalked off through the nearest door. The other cooks in the kitchen showed no sign that Cail or Tor’s behavior was unusual.

Rainn took his cue from Tor and grabbed himself a plate, loading it up with food. Tor did the same, accepting offerings from each of the Fae in the kitchen before they returned to their stations.

I stood at the edge of the room by the door, shifting awkwardly. My hands shook, unable to calm down since seeing my uncle. I pressed my closed fists against my thighs, but it did nothing to soothe my racing heart and curdled stomach.

Rainn joined me, holding out a full plate of food with a smile.

The vise around my heart eased a little, replaced by warmth.

No one cared if I ate back at Cruinn. I would have starved if it was up to my uncle. I ate my meals in the hall of silvers, unable to stomach the gossip. I held out my hand, taking the plate from Rainn. I didn’t say thank you—that wasn’t the way of the Fae—but I couldn’t help the awe that coated my expression as I looked up at Rainn.

“For me?” I whispered.

Rainn’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Of course.”

Tor approached Rainn’s shoulder a moment later, holding two plates. He looked down at the plate in my hand, and the muscle in his jaw ticked. He handed Rainn one of the plates.

Cail pushed back into the kitchen, burdened with an armful of wine bottles. At least half a dozen. He rushed up to Tor. “Your wine,” he said, flustered.

Rainn gave the Kelpie a knowing look. “Drinking problem?” Rainn guessed.

Tor gave him a look. “It’s a delivery I was expecting. Much appreciated, Cail. You can put them with the rest. I’ll take one for now.”

Tor, Rainn, and I made our way back through the hallways, and though I knew I had been there before, I held no memory of them. I wondered if that had something to do with Kelpie magic.

I stopped walking, but Tor and Rainn continued. They were several steps in front before they realized I was not between them. They both turned in unison. I felt so silly, but I had to say it. I had to be careful. Too much had happened not to check.

“I’m safe here, aren’t I?” I asked, hating how small I sounded.

Tor blinked. “I understand why you ask. You are under my protection.”

I licked my lips. “And if we aren’t together?”

Starlight flared in Tor’s eyes. A ring of gold on a pitch-black sky. “You don’t want to know what I’d do to any Kelpie that tried to harm you.”

Rainn raised his hand. “I want to know.” He smirked.

Tor ignored him and focused on me. “You know how the Kelpie feast,” he said gravely, waiting for my acknowledgment of his words before he continued. “Kelpie eat emotions. The more negative, the better. Self-doubt. Fear. Anger. Rage. We don’t create a void of emotion when we feed; rather, we can magnify how a person feels. To feast? A Kelpie can drag a landling to the depths, feeling as they drown, over and over. To take a mortal and feel their last dying moments? It’s the most delicious thing a Kelpie can eat.”

“You’ve told me this before,” my voice was thick.

“Think of how much pain and fear a Kelpie could push into a being's skull, coupled with feeling their own death creeping up their throat like a long-fingered hand. Think about how unpleasant that sounds, and know that I will ensure that anyone who hurts you feels that. I give you my word.” Tor nodded once and gestured for us to keep walking.

I couldn’t help but think I was glad I was not his enemy.

Tormalugh took us to his personal chambers. In the depths of the caverns that held the Kelpie palace, in the most private and heavily guarded area of the Reeds. Saturated in magic and teeming with Kelpies in armor—much more than the last time I had visited.

Though the hallway leading up to Tor’s private chambers was ornately decorated and worthy of royalty, the room itself was sparsely decorated. Utilitarian. A bed with pillows and blankets for comfort, not decoration. No mirrors, no gilded walls, or jewels embedded in the stone. A door by the bed, no doubt leading to Tor’s personal closet, if he had one. Or perhaps a bathroom.

If I didn’t know Tor at all, his room would have provided me with some insight into his personality.

The bed was bigger than I had ever seen, larger than the bed I had slept in on my last visit. No doubt designed to be big enough for a horse form or several people at once.

I studied Tor out of the corner of my eye as he walked over to the only table in the room and placed a wine bottle on the side. Did Tor have a harem, like my uncle or Cormac did?

King Irvine’s harem was well known, living in hot springs under the castle and cavorting around all day. I had seen Cormac’s harem when I had walked in his dreams. I assumed that having a collection of willing females in the depths of a castle was just something rulers did. Now that Tor was king, did he have a harem as well?

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