Page 128 of The Queens and the Kings
“Only the Teller. He says that the Wyvern Kings will be livid. Mercy and compassion will not be a priority after being trapped by the mainland.”
Unfortunately, he understood the feeling.
“According to legends” she continued, “the Wyvern Kings and Siren Queens are individually more powerful than all four Arcanists combined. Arcane originated within them, somehow, or they first harnessed it.”
Henrik cast about for something to say. He had a hunch this history was tied up into the stories Pedr couldn’t tell. Did Pedr know about this? Probably. Britt didn’t know thismuch, or she would have told him.
“Who else knows the full extent?”
“Me, you, and Nils. The Teller,” she added, “and perhaps Britt. I haven’t spoken with her lately. I don’t know what the Teller told her, only that she visited him. My other military leaders are aware that greater issues arise from losing the damma, but they aren’t yet aware of the extent.”
“Shite,” he muttered.
Her chin lifted. “This isn’t just about His Glory and Stenberg, Henrik. We need to do more than get rid of His Glory. We need to findwhoHis Glory is working with to bring about the downfall of every innocent life in The Isles and on the mainland.”
“Is this why you’re heading east?”
She flung him an irritated glance. “The Teller believes that we’re going to need as much help as we can rally. I’m going to see whom I can provide.”
Henrik took his time absorbing thewein her sentence. All these braids wound into a greater whole. He liked none of it. If what she said was true, and all evidence pointed to a yes, they needed to load up Stenberg’s residents and flee.
Then they had to empty Kapurnick.
Narpurra.
What of the outer isles? So many small islands on the Chain . . .
“Henrik?”
He shook his head to extract.
“What?”
“There are many implications and plans to make, but His Glory comes first. Wemustknow who he’s working for. All the better if you can destroy His Glory in the meantime, and who better than two of his former soldats?”
Ah.
Thiswasa full circle. The reason the Ladylord so warmly invited him and Einar into her personal residence on his arrival. She had it right, at least.
“We’ll do it,” he said.
Her weakened breath surprised him.
“Thank you, Henrik. Truly. Tell Arvid and Einar, but not in front of my military command. I’ll brief them later, to prevent panic.” She leaned closer, eyes bright, “You know this responsibility belongs to you. It’s yours to make right. It’s you who have lost so much. After thirty years of separation, you held onto the dream of your mother and found her, which means you are worthy of leading a mission of hope. Don’t tell me, soldat, that hope hasn’t been the siren song for most of your life.”
The sound of running feet filled Henrik’s ears. His neck prickled as he twisted to glance over his shoulder and paused.
Einar.
He ran outright, legs flying. With impressive speed and skill, Einar leaped a fence, slipped around a boulder, and headed right for them. Cheeks puffing and flushed, Einar skidded to a stop in front of them.
“His Glory is here,” he panted. “There was a ship behind us, but it wasn’t a soldat. It was that bastid coming to surprise everyone.”
“How did you know?”
“Spotted at the wharf.” He looked to the Ladylord. “Twenty minutes away from reaching your office.”
The Ladylord spun on her heels, as crisp as an autumn day. “Then we must return before he arrives,” she concluded briskly, and with a sharp eye on Henrik. “Remember, Henrik. There might be such a thing as killing himtooearly.”
