Page 29 of The Queens and the Kings
“While that makes sense, I don’tknowthere’s reciprocation from his side, and I won’t ask right now,” Britt stated firmly to Agnes’s dubious expression. “Henrik is carrying too much with leaving the soldats and Oliver’s betrayal. Selma! He couldn’t possibly know what he’s feeling.”
“That’s his job to decide.”
“Maybe, but . . . to burden him with my emotions at a time like this? It doesn’t seem . . . fair.”
Agnes softened. “You must really care for him.”
“I do.”
“While I don’t agree with everything you just said, I see where you’re coming from. Time is one of the greatest gifts we can give.” Agnes sighed. “I wish I knew Henrik better. I only just met him, too.”
“Besides,” Britt admitted, “I don’t know what Henrik and I will face on the mainland, between the Lordlady and his mother. It will be difficult. To introduce romantic questions between us is asking for complications. I’ll ask him, but not yet.”
Agnes sobered. “Are you scared?”
“No.”
“I am.”
“About what?”
With a shrug, she said, “Einar and I are at the cusp of everything we ever wanted. Isn’t that when most things are taken away?”
A light rap on the door drew their eyes to the doorway. Einar appeared, concentration suffusing to joy when he saw Agnes. She mirrored his pure adoration with relief, as if they’d been long waiting to reunite.
“A drake just arrived.” His gaze flashed to Britt’s. “Pedr says you’ll both want to read the message.”
Einar wrapped his huge hand around Agnes’s and tugged her out of their shared cabin. Britt tailed behind, unsuccessfully stuffing dreams of Henrik to the side.
Light from the open hatch spilled into the narrow hallway, leading them forward. Wind whipped by, making it easier to ignore Agnes’s low giggles and the note of protective adoration in Einar’s voice as he helped her up the ladder.
Fresh air twirled around Britt as she ascended. Henrik stood off to the side, staring at the foamy sea, one hand on a hip. His pallor had shifted from ill to slightly pale. His eyes found her quickly. He perused her with an assessment that bordered on protective.
In light of Agnes’s observations, Britt understood. Hecared. So did she. But what did that mean next? She had leaders and wyverns to focus on. She’d deal with a flutter of romantic interest later.
Britt smiled at Henrik to ease his question. He shifted toward her, but stopped himself. And wasn’tthatthe other problem? Before she could join his side, he hastened to the wheel, where Pedr waited. She followed, contemplating soldats and their wild emotions.
Pedr extended a letter to Britt, drawing her attention.
“It’s for you.”
“Me?”
He grunted.
Startled, she accepted the letter and opened it. The mulberry colored ink was a dead giveaway. It came from the mainland. Stenberg wrote with dark gray. Kapurnick used navy blue. Narpurra was a shade of emerald green that occasionally looked onyx.
Dearest Britt,
In accordance with the request given by your aunt, General Helsing, via a messenger drake, I have instructed my staff to approve a one-on-one meeting with you as soon as you arrive on our shores.
I look forward to meeting you and the soldat, Henrik.
His story had already reached my ears before General Helsing requested the audience, and my ears have been burning with it. I confess to a deepening curiosity. Not just around your reason for bringing him to the mainland, but his recent . . . dissolution . . . of ties with the island nation of Stenberg.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Signed,
