Page 12 of The Ever Queen

Another glance into the trees. “Elven made. A blade that does not kill from the strike, does not even draw blood. But it rots the heart, draining magic from the pores, until the lifeblood ceases to flow. A painful death.”

“Elven made!” I shrieked. “If you have these blades, why in the hells have you not used them?”

“Why, indeed?” The woman’s mouth tightened, her lips bloodless.

She couldn’t. Something had her trapped from acting against anyone, that or she was being threatened. What had she said? She cared more for the good of her people. What if Larsson had harmed someone she loved?

“How did they overtake your isle?”

“It was not overtaken. Bonekeeper is known among elven clans, so I did not think much of it when he was in the travel party.”

“Known?”

“He is part elven,” she said, slightly befuddled, as though stunned I hadn’t known.

Bleeding hells. “He tricked you, then. Came as a friend, then betrayed you.”

“I cannot sayhebetrayed anything,” she muttered, trailing herfingers in the tides. “He did not do much talking. Although, I did not take kindly to the sea witch and the sea fae who joined them.”

Them. Were there more sea fae here? Larsson had sent assassins to kill Erik once, but I’d not paused long enough to think he might have more support than I knew.

“Is there someone else besides Larsson and Fione?”

“There is.” A throaty timbre came at our backs.

There, at the edge of the trees, a man with hair like the sunset sneered at the two of us.

“Skadinia.” He grinned—snarled, was more fitting—at the woman. “What is all this?”

She stood swiftly and stepped from the tides. “Arion. Ourarrangementlent me the task of tending to her wellbeing.”

“You are to keep her alive, not stroll along the shore.”

“The fae was distressed. I chose to orient her to Natthaven. Nothing more.”

“Why, then, did you speak so poorly of my cousin,chridhe?”

I didn’t know the term he’d used, but it caused Skadinia’s nose to wrinkle. “I spoke plainly of Bonekeeper. If you consider that poorly, then perhaps he should think again on his actions.”

Arion was a broad man. Ears sharply tapered and capped in gold. His brows were thick and expressive, but it was his eyes that unsettled me. For the warmth of his complexion and hair, the deep brown of his eyes was cold and distant. Like hope would be drawn in and left to die.

This was what she’d feared, no mistake. All this time, Fione, even Larsson, hardly shifted Skadinia’s tone. Only when she hinted of more did she ruffle. Arion, he’d brought Larsson to her isle. This was the man who’d trapped her somehow.

Another elven.

Dammit. If it was true, if Larsson’s folk were elven, then his connections were of no small means.

“It is time,” he said. “Bring her to the hall. And, Skadinia, do it silently.”

I choked on my own stun when Arion waved his hand and a golden fissure split through the fading skeins of sunset until it seemed as though the firmament divided and he walked through, abandoning the shore.

Breathe. Focus.

“Come,” she whispered, taking hold of my arm. “I’ve shown you all I can of Natthaven.”

“Skadinia—”

“Skadi,” she said, voice low. “Only one other calls me by my full name, and he is not Prince Arion.”

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