“Sod off, Fae.”
I held on to my temper by a thread, locking my hands so I wouldn’t crush the flowers. At some point we might have been the same monsters, but that was so long ago. No one remembered it. Certainly, no one talked about it. And those arrogant assholes had carved their own path in the Harrowlands. They were probably eyeing my territory right now. “Elf actually. King of the Elves to be exact.”
The woman completely ignored my pronouncement. “Wait, are those for her?” she asked.
“A small gift.”
The woman’s laugh cut off abruptly when I shoved a handful of gold talons into her hand.
She looked down at it, then at me. “Last house on the spit.” She gave a vague wave and pocketed the money. I should have tried that at the start instead of playing nice.
It wasn’t that the trek was hard. The village was the length of an afternoon stroll, but my gut still churned with anticipation. I might have grown a bit bored with ruling my territory before I was chucked into the loving embrace of a madman. However, not having the crown on my head put into stark relief the reality I needed it if I couldn’t get a bunch of villagers to cooperate with something as simple as directions. I wasn’t made for living common and that would be my life if I didn’t make this right.
I found Vera outside her snug cottage, mending nets. It was squat like the rest of this ocean-wind–ravaged place and I longed for the soaring glass spirals of home. The tan door and russet shutters mirrored the brown-clothed woman in front of me. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. Maybe someone like Yaya, all lithe grace and slippery intent. But when I thought about it, I should have expected the chunky vest and worn sturdy pants. Vera, with her big weathered hands, slabs of softening muscle and chiselled nose, personified this place perfectly. When I approached, she didn’t set aside her net needle and twine, but she did tuck a stray lock of white hair into her braid crown.
“Mistress Vera. I think you have something of mine.”
The woman remained stoic as the sea. Usually, I commanded a little more reaction from my epic declarations. I held out the bouquet.
“I arrive with an offering.”
Her eyes grew large and she stood, the net forgotten. I swallowed a trickle of unease. She was as tall as I was. Hard as granite, she filled out her practical wool pants and tufted vest with a vigor that belied her age. I nudged the flowers a bit closer. Vera inhaled and promptly sneezed every single petal of sea lavender off the branches. Not even my Nightmare’s improvements kept them from flying everywhere in a plume of midnight petals.
That is how I wanted to marry Maggie. Watching herbeautiful lake-blue eyes darken as they reflected the dusky purple petals falling all around her.
I was fucked in so many ways. No wonder the villagers were eager for me to bring her flowers. With red-rimmed eyes and a watering nose, Vera’s body shook. I was about to see if I needed to run to the healer when I realized she was laughing. The great belly laugh threatened to tear her in two and startled the sea dragon a mile away under the waves.
“Is that what happened to the woman you were with? Did you drown her in good intentions too?”
Did everyone hear about Maggie and me? I mean, of course they did because Arthur’s gossip travelled faster than a sea breeze. As her laughter died, Vera squared her wide shoulders, raising her meaty fists. The hair rose on the back of my neck. My Nightmare drooled to come to the surface. But her fists only came high enough to brush the petals off her clothes. Not getting to fight sent my Nightmare back to sleep. Words were more of an Elven thing.
“Keeper of the Calix. I’m here to petition the Godd object into my custody. The good of the realm is in your-”
Vera held up a hand to forestall any more words. “Come in for tea then. You can make more speeches inside.”
She turned away without another glance in my direction. While I anticipated a battle to the death, I wasn’tabove snatching the thing and running. I strolled in and noted anywhere an object of power might hide.
“How were you raised, boy?”
No one had called me ‘boy’ in a long time. “To be King.”
“Ah, that explains it. Go out the door and scrape your feet.” The place was spotless and I understood why she wanted to keep it that way. I balanced just outside the doorway, scraping my boots of sand and petals. Vera’s house sparkled. I should have been able to spot the Calix without any issue. Instead, it remained stubbornly out of sight.
“While you’re busy being King, what happened to the male in all that?”
I blinked and sat in her kitchen chair, propping my arm along the back. Talking about my manhood wasn’t my first choice to get her to relinquish the Good object.
“He’s doing just fine.”
“Is that why your mate left?” she said as she poured hot water.
“So, you’re not giving me the Calix?”
I couldn’t keep up with the whiplash conversation. Vera set a steaming mug of tea in front of me, taking her own seat, her face inscrutable. The pottery might have been handmade but the tea was a delicate mix of bladderwrack, emerald honeybush and black pepper. Each plant rolled through my mouth, appreciated for its essence.
She would taste the amethyst. Save some forher.My Nightmare smiled in the back of my mind at the thought. He was an idiot.
Annoyed, I snapped out the first thing that would end this conversation. “She went home. Where it’s safe. Now, the Calix…”
