The Ever King (The Ever Seas, #1)

by L.J. Andrews

The ending needed to be altered.

A tale of a serpent who befriended a songbird. A tale where they lived happily ever after, for in the girl’s version, the snake never devoured the bird.

“Is that what we are, princess? A serpent and a songbird?”

Our people—the Night Folk fae—had the gods-gift of controlling the earth, while the Eastern realms with Jonas and Sander, used tricky magic of the mind and body. Mira’s people took the Southern and Western edges where fae could twist fate, shapeshift, or compel the mind with cantrips and illusions.

The Chasm split between the gentler currents of our barriers like a true wall. White, frothy currents flowed from sky to sea floor, while the calmer sea stuck to the flow of the horizon.

The lost mantle of my father was a talisman with power unmatched, meant to be used by the true Ever King.

“Did you expect me to sing?” I tilted his head. “I wonder why. I don’t save traitors.”

I dragged my nose along the silver wings, imagining her scent buried in the metal. Someday, I vowed to destroy my enemy, but another, darker side, wanted to destroy his heir in a different way. Devour her like the serpent from the story she once told.

I wanted nothing more than to tear through the walls, shatter her world, then take what was left of her.

The rune mark on my arm prickled like flames licked across my skin. I tugged on my sleeve and had to bite my damn lip to choke back a shout of surprise. The ridges of the cursed mark had deepened to rich crimson, dark enough it almost looked black. Not possible.

“Your blood was used to . . . seal the barriers. If it’s filling the sea then . . .”

“The Chasm has been opened. I feel it.”

“To the place songbirds sing.”

I let out a rough breath. We were here. Earth fae walls and rooftops all sprawled out, not a care in their precious little world, ripe for the plucking.

“A man he’s not, we work we rot, no sleep until it’s through . . .”

“A sailor’s grave is all we crave, we are the Ever King’s crew!”

The deeper reason was my little songbird wouldn’t break a promise, and she promised to look after it always.

Hair dark as spilled ink was intricately braided over her slender shoulder. Soft skin, the shade of damp sand. A slight, tapered point to her ears, less pronounced than mine, but her eyes were what drew me in. I wouldn’t forget those eyes. Blue, like the calmest lagoons of the Ever.

I was frozen. Captivated.

Breath, thought, words, the lot escaped me.

A perplexing kind of darkness took hold in the deep sinews of my chest. It was cruel, wicked, and greedy. Never had I desired something so fiercely. I didn’t understand it, and I didn’t try. The draw to her was like a crawl for water after being lost in the blaze of the sun.

Such a beautiful little bird. What a pity it was that her serpent ...

“Why do the men wait for the king to leave before trying to touch his heir?”

“Because misplace a hair on lovely Livia’s head, and her father will have yours. The man would go to war if she asked it of him. The king adores her.”

“Then take the coin I gave you and see to it we are suitable for a royal ball.”

She was never theirs anyway. Not really. From the moment the songbird tried to appeal to a serpent, she was mine.

Knots tangled in the pit of my belly when the man shoved off the wall. He dragged gloved hands down his satin tunic, all black, the same as his mask. I took a step to the side. Across the hall, he mimicked my step in the same direction.

His voice was low, a rasp like a stormy wind, when he said, “Dance with me, little bird.”

“I’ve watched you the entire evening. Not once have you seemed so . . . afraid of a partner.” “I’m not afraid of you.” “Glad to hear it. For I hope to dance with you again. Maybe another after that, and I would hate to make you uneasy, little bird.”

“So, who are you, little bird?” A rush of something dangerous hummed in my bones. “Yours, I suppose. For a little while.”

My shadow made a noise, a sound deep and throaty like a growl. He leaned his masked face near mine, the heat in his strange eyes burned in desire. “Speak more words like that, and I will need to keep you longer than a little while.”

But even more than my fleeting pull to Bloodsinger, my body craved the darkness of my new stranger.

“I-I’ve painted the fort windows in . . . in my chamber. If you’d like to see them.”

“I cannot even see that man’s face, but he, unmistakably, wants to take a bite out of you.”

“I swear to you, I’ve waited a long time for a moment as perfect as this.”

Again, he slid his covered nose against my throat. My breaths came sharp and heavy as his hand skated up the side of my ribs. His thumb teased the underside of one breast.

“Let me look at you.” He hooked his thumbs under my mask. I gripped his wrists. “You as well.” A low chuckle bobbed his throat. “Soon, but not yet.”

His eyes shifted, hinting at a grin under his mask, and he lifted a palm to my cheek. “You’re perfect.”

“If you want more, little bird, all you must do is ask.”

“What do you want?” “You,” I breathed out. “Certain?” “Yes.” I arched into him, seeking his touch.

“Then you must play a game with me, little bird. I’ll tell you two truths, and one lie. Guess the lie, and I’ll do as you please. Get it wrong, and you do as I please. Agreed?”

“You have family, but I am the last of my line.”

“My magic frightens others, so I am careful where I use it.”

He chuckled and released my wrists to hold me around the waist when the barest flick of his thumb found the wet slit of my core.

“Have you ever heard the tale of the songbird and the sea serpent?”

“You’ve now told me three lies, Songbird.” “What did you call me?”

“That was what you wanted to be, wasn’t it? The songbird the serpent didn’t destroy.”

“Bloodsinger.”

“Hello, love. I promised I’d come for you. Have you figured my lie yet? For I have figured yours.”

“Now, I’ll ask again. Where. Is. My mantle?” “I don’t know.” “You don’t know.”