Page 87 of The Queens and the Kings
“I knowthat!”
He clucked, scrutinizing them with a tilted head. “They seem fine. The arcane worked better than expected. I’ve never actually tried this before.”
Carefully, he set a folded paper crane into his pocket. Her name filled the interior. The act of folding it had somehow created the wings. She couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if it unfolded.
“Can you make them move?” he asked.
At her conscious command, the wings opened and closed with a gentle vibration along her back. Muscles rippled, oddly able to bear the non-existent weight. She squealed, a hand over her mouth.
“You put wings on my back!”
He held up a finger. “Temporarywings. They’ll dispel after an hour, they’ll disintegrate if you go too far from the ship, and they’ll disappear if I unfold the crane.” He tilted his head toward the distant ship of the line. “Get going. There’s a wicked storm to the west I want to avoid, and the ship of the line will gladly shoot a cannon at me if I venture any closer. Don’t dawdle. You only have an hour.” He reached for the wheel, then paused. “Oh, and Rosenvatten will be invisible so I’ll have to find you.”
Denerfen curled up on Pedr’s shoulder, his leathery wings fanning. He glared at her with unbridled dragul ferocity.
“I’m sorry, Den,” she whispered. “It’s too dangerous for both of us when you can stay with Pedr.”
His head cocked as he studied the wings. Even her dragul didn’t know what to make of them. She couldn’t blame him.
Pedr slapped a hand on her shoulder. She screeched when something sharp stabbed her skin, like a bite. Glancing back, a mahogany circle clung to her, as tall as her pinky finger.
“Stop putting things on my body without approval!” Britt snapped, then twisted to see it better. The wings drifted awkwardly, flowing to the side. “Whatisit?”
“Calm down. It’s a piece of wood.”
“What?”
He rolled his eyes. “A tracker. So I can find you later.”
“Wood?”
“Don’t—“
“Ask, I know.”
“I use it to keep track of the rowboats, but this works, too.” Pedr nodded to the water. “Don’t let the wyvern see you, or smell you. There’s an hour limit, so better hurry.”
“You’ve mentioned the limit three times now, thanks. What do you mean, don’t let themseeme? They’re all going to see me, Pedr!”
“Right. Forgot.” He extracted the flute.
“Both will work at the same time?”
“I think so.”
“You betterknowso!” she growled.
A gust of wind almost toppled her, preventing his sarcastic reply. When the gust grabbed her wings, she skidded sideways, cutting the argument short. Thinking fast, she shot a hand out and grabbed the wheel, preventing a plummet to the ocean.
When the wind died, she braced her stomach and her legs, shuffling toward the gunwale, propelled by a sense of urgency. With each step, the wings pitched her to one side or the other. Britt grunted with her pitiful attempts to control the gigantic appendages.
“It’ll be easier in the air,” Pedr called when a gust shoved her into the gunwale, taking her airborne. Her toes dragged higher. She stopped herself from doubling over the side by throwing her arms out. Panting, she paused, halfway out of the ship. The wings quivered. They longed to fly, she felt it.
Britt shook her head.
Wings.
“Watch the updrafts.” Pedr stood with hands on his hips and a frown to the west. “They’re blowing from west to east. It’ll be a bastid to struggle against them on the way there, but they’ll help you return when your energy is low. I’ll try to stay on this side of their ship. Whatever you do, fly. I’ll find you anywhere.”
