Page 104 of The Queens and the Kings
Drake peered at him through slotted eyes as Henrik approached Pedr, who stood at the very front of the ship, one leg propped on the gunwale. Pedr stared to the west, across the ocean. Denerfen sprawled across Pedr’s broad shoulder, snoring. His wings drooped to the front and back.
When Henrik was only three steps away, Pedr straightened and acknowledged him with one lifted eyebrow. Henrik lifted the folded paper.
“Can I borrow Drake to deliver a message to the mainland?”
Pedr eyed the paper, and then Henrik. Selma’s name was written across the back in tight letters. He nodded once.
Drake, yawning, unfolded his wings, grabbed the paper in his mouth, and jumped into the night.
How the drake knew where to go, Henrik didn’t ask.
Chapter Twenty Nine
PEDR
Long after Henrikreturned to his berth, Pedr studied the sparkling stars and scooping waves. The cards of fate often shuffled into a strange array. He’d only been Arcanist of the Sea for fifteen years, yet he understood fate’s misshapen timing very well.
Verystrange timing.
Almost poignant.
Intentional.
What were the odds that the Wyvern Kings’ sojourn on the mainland ended just as upheaval hit the Isles? Was it mere coincidence? A tweak of fate?
Pedr mapped out what few tidbits Britt understood about his situation—that the Wyvern Kings were real, that Pedr couldn’t speak about them, that a curse locked his tongue, and something was wrong—against what she didn’t. She had no idea that the Siren Queens existed, nor thattheywere the true nemesis.
In other words, Britt held a grain of sand against a desert. Rebellion stirred in his blood all the same. Fifteen years ago, the Siren Queens bound his tongue and lashed him to his ship. They took Mila from him and cursed him to five hundred yearsof fruitless fighting for her, never knowing what tortures they would happily inflict on her in the meantime.
Britt knew none of that.
He couldn’t attempt to give Britt these details without it being a liability. If he continued to bind himself by his rebellion, he wouldn’t be able to sail the ship. They needed him to chase wyverns, or His Glory. Which meant he’d have to help Britt inotherways.
Sneaky ways.
The Siren Queens weren’t the only foes worth contending.
Wind blasted the portholes in Pedr’s quarters when he slipped inside several hours later. The smell of sausages and pan bread thickened the air, but it did nothing to stoke an appetite. He missed the enjoyment of food, so he felt no motivation for it.
Britt, perched on a chair, peered at him from the top of her latest book.
“Ta.”
He dropped to a seat in front of her, shoved a paper her way, folded his hands, and stared hard. She glanced at it, then at him, then back at the paper. With the tips of her fingers, she pulled it closer.
She read it once.
Again.
Britt lifted her gaze, head tilting to the side in silent question. “You want me to go see the Teller? But . . .”
He nodded once, shoved out of the chair, and headed for the door. They had one more day before Pedr’s new current wouldbring Arvid to the ship, which gave Britt just enough time to do her own research and connect the dots.
“Pardon me,” he called over his shoulder. “I need to return us to the bay so you can visit your friend.”
Understanding flooded Britt’s face as she stared at his retreating form. Good. She’d always been too intelligent to waste on Kapurnick. If they played it just right, the dots of this sordid mystery would connect in a rather important fashion.
Pedr shoved into the sunshine.
