Page 97 of The Ever King

“No!” She wrenched my arm back with such force, I nearly fell over. “No, only the king can sit atop the throne.”

“Why?”

Celine licked her lips. “To sit on a throne would mean you are the equal of the king. There is no equal to an Ever King. It would lessen Erik’s status and power.”

“Gods, it’s that symbolic or is it some kind of spell?”

“It’s the way of things. If the Ever King is powerless, then he has nothing.”

I stared at the empty throne; a bite of sympathy took hold for Bloodsinger. He was forced to bear the weight of his kingdom alone, and fight to keep his back from bending in the sights of others.

He was practically forbidden from having . . . anyone.

There are no Ever queens. I thought of my parents and how they confided in each other, depended on each other. They ruled together. When one bent under the weight of their crown, the other would take it for them both.

Erik could have bedmates, he could make another heir to pass on the burden of an entire world, but could he give his heart to anyone? His fears? His troubles? The more I learned of the treatment of the king, the more I hated it.

Celine kept me from the throne room after that and showed me the balconies, the numerous corridors, the unkempt gardens.

The gardens were terraced into four levels. Some levels were covered with bowers and blossoming nettles. Others with herbs and spiked fruits. The top level outside Erik’s chamber was surrounded by stone walls, a single gate leading to the lower terraces, and filled with shrubs and strange willow-like trees with blue-veined leaves that seemed to glow beneath the moonlight.

I found particular comfort in the lowest garden near the king’s private cove.

The slow, gentle roll of the waves called to me and added a touch of peace as I strolled through strange ferns that smelled of mint and trees growing odd plums with yellow skin.

Celine walked nearly twenty paces in front of me before she realized I’d stopped and lowered to my knees in front of a wild bush with satin black leaves.

“You do like soil, don’t you?” She chuckled.

“I thought everything in the Ever was underwater. It’s always a surprise to see so much . . . land.”

“My daj always explained the different fae realms to me as two sides of a coin. Either side can be flipped to the top.”

Once I discovered the gardens, I spent most of my time there. Fury magic burned wild and desperate to connect to this new land, this new soil. Since the king was too busy to be seen, I didn’t know how to ask his permission—and frankly, I didn’t care to get it—before I began taming the grounds.

My blood heated as I cupped wilted blossoms until they burst into a flurry of colors and sweet, milky scents.

I conquered the sprawling, chaotic vines. My magic connected to the barest levels of the soil and plant life. My father could command the earth to break and bend, I commanded it to live. A sort of give and take of energy. I offered my magic, and the more vibrancy the earth returned, the longer I could use my own power.

On the days spent in the terraced gardens, Celine would sit with me, chatting about life on the Ever Ship while I worked. Soon, I laughed with her, like I did with Mira. Even told her about Aleksi as a new Rave officer, Sander’s studious nature, and Jonas’s proclivity to bed jealous women.

“One time a woman discovered he’d been with someone else,” I said. “She broke into the other woman’s bedchamber—not his—and cut her hair. Then, she managed to use her familiarity with his side of his family’s palace to slip into his chamber and leave it on his pillow. In the middle of the night. I’ve never seen the man so quiet and pale.”

I snickered and touched a brittle vine with pink petals like a calm dawn.

Celine handed me a scoop of soil. “How was she executed?”

“Oh, she wasn’t executed, simply banned from the palace. I think Jonas’s mother and father laughed about it for two days. The poor girl whose hair was cut is what we call an Elixist, a potion master in a way. She was able to craft a tonic to grow it back even more luscious than before.”

Celine gave me a bemused look. “A woman terrorized a royal and lived?”

“She wasn’t a threat, and Jonas did bring it on himself, but we don’t go around slaughtering people, Celine.” I paused to wipe sweat off my brow. “Is that what you’re taught about us? That we kill everything?”

She considered me for a breath. “I was born into the rivalry between our worlds. When Lord Harald still lived, he never let us forget how the fae of the other lands slaughtered the Ever King and tortured the heir. We’d have what he called blood feasts every quarter moon, and he’d repeat the tale. He’d stir the hatred. He’d bring Erik out and—” Celine cut off her words and shook her head.

“What?” I brushed soil from my palms and squared to her. “What did he do?”

“He’d strip me down and force my people to look at my mangled skin, love.”

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