Page 123 of The Queens and the Kings
He snorted. “Fat chance. How would they get a wyvern inside a ship? They must be doing something else with it.”
The question brought the curse rising like a wash. He leaned his focus into the schematics of a wyvern attempting to fit into a ship of the line and it helped ease the pressure, which gave him something to work with.
“Give me a minute,” he said, and brooded at the sea.
While the Rosenvatten closed in, he cogitated over a plan. How could he keep Britt from falling into the hands of sailors, but still find answers about the wyverns?
Short of destroying the curse himself—which wasn’t possible, because he’d certainly tried for the last fifteen years—there was no other arcane possibility. He already knew it. The arcane was too strange, warped, sometimes downright nonfunctional. The option to walk away always existed, but . . . no, they had to track this down. Not only for the good of Kapurnick’s safety, but for all The Isles. The wrath of the Siren Queens bubbled eternally deep, beyond the Arcanists. Beyond what he had ever known. They could destroy so much more.
They already had.
Below all that, though, lurked the greatest reason of all: understanding what happened to the wyverns could be his path to Mila.
Hisonlypath to Mila.
Was it worth risking Britt’s life? He cast his sister a surreptitious sidelong glance. Was there much choice? She’d swim over there just to prove a point. Their mother certainly lived on in her.
Pedr infused all the power of his wrath into the glare when he said, “I will send you over with the wind, and then have the wind pick you up, off their deck, exactly thirty minutes later.”
Britt pinched lips to hide a smile. Solemnly, she said, “Sounds fine.”
“Youmustbe outside.”
“I will be.”
He lifted a finger. “If you die, Britt, I will personally go to the Arcanist of Souls, yank you from the depths of death itself, and destroy you. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, I understand you.”
Pedr stomped a foot, snapped his thumb, and whistled once. The summoning song conjured whatever item he focused on when he created the pattern. A bundle of clothes dropped into his hands, taken from where he stored them in his locker. Pedr shoved them into her arms.
“The ship we’re chasing isn’t a military vessel. It’s a private ship, owned by a wealthy mainlander who sails from the northern mainland to the southern. He owns a lot of merchant ships and his own armada. They’re sailing with his vessel.”
Britt studied the bundle in her arms. Her lips formed anohof surprise. Like the rest of their plan, it was a detail that didn’t have much hope of making a big difference, but was better than nothing.
“So?”
“That means there will be maids on board that ship. Put this dress on. Once we send you over, if you’re in the right uniform, you’ll have a better chance of passing as anything other than a stowaway.”
“Should I take Denerfen for the venom?”
“I would.”
She nodded. “Then I will.”
“Might not matter.” He nodded to the west. “Because there’s a storm coming. We have to get you both over there and back before it lands.”
She recoiled, sweeping an arm over the bluest sky she’d seen. “It’s a lovely day!”
“That’s about to change. I can smell it. The farther west we sail, the more likely the Wyvern Kings will create their own current again. Trust me, Britt. It’s coming.”
Pedr touched another rope, furling the rigging so it didn’t get torn apart when the tempest swept toward them. The wisp of a cloud had grown to a broiling onyx bank and expanded by the second with ominous promise.
The Siren Queens could overwhelm the sky with their storms in mere minutes, and he wouldn’t be caught like a fool again. He’d played that game in the past.
Never again.
While Britt and Denerfen retreated to the other side of Pedr’s quarters to remove her dress and braid her hair, Pedr rummaged through his old secretaire. Yellowing papers, most of them tornto unusable scraps, fluttered in the air. Movement in the window stirred his attention, and he looked up.
