Page 175 of The Queens and the Kings
Britt gave a worried half-smile. “Thanks.”
“Britt?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t follow me into my quarters, don’t stay on this ship, and whatever you do, don’t try to save me.”
He disappeared inside before her questions could stop him.
Pedr stood in the middle of his cabin, eyes closed. The closed room cut him off from the land, the sky, and other souls. An Arcanist, to present himself, had to be apart from all the other sources of arcane. His cheeks wrinkled in a preparatory grimace.
This wouldn’t be pleasant.
Legs braced, he set his hands on his hips. His elbows stuck out to either side like wings as he closed his eyes, bowed his head, and let out an exhale so deep the bottoms of his lungs shriveled. He didn’t need to breathe, so he held it there, emptied fully out.
Once his thoughts drained with it, he opened his mind to the arcane.
It hummed quietly. He knew it the moment he slid inside, but only out of sheer familiarity. Nothing changed. No sense heightened. Like walking into a room. Himmel’s voice came with greater strength as it twined through a partially-open window. The sounds of Britt’s retreat, the rowboat splashing, grounded him.
Here.
Now.
Even if we can only draw his attention,Himmel said in the wind,then that will be worth it to give the humans the advantage.
The slide into Arcanist came without his noticing. Himmel’s pillowy smell, mixed with brimstone and char, told him the presentation had already begun.
He opened his eyes.
His ship had become the otherworld. He’d stood here before, this misty, vaporous place. Neither sky, land, sea, nor soul. No ties. Something elsewhere, where all the arcane leaders could stand without setting the arcane against itself.
Himmel regarded him apprehensively. She glimmered like stars in her ebony dress. Lights sparkled in her short tresses, bobbing around her jaw. The lack of flirting enjoyment in her eyes was a testament to their bleak situation.
He had a moment to take her in before a mild voice, piercing and curious, struck him. It felt like knives.
“So. This is the Arcanist of the Sea.”
Pedr directed his focus to the right, unable to help his insolent irritation. Amidst a swirl of clouds stood a petite, mild-mannered man with a shaded black mustache trimmed to points. Strong jaw, narrow shoulders, long neck. He stood with his hands at his sides, the elbows tucked up, and a fitted, black jacket all the way to his wrists.
Elegant, in a haughty way.
This man was the Arcanist that Pedr had feared for fifteen years. Onskar held the souls of all living in his palms. He wielded life and death.
Pedr forced himself to incline his head.
Himmel swept her arm from Pedr to Onskar. “Onskar, as you are aware, this is Pedr. He has been the Arcanist of the Sea for the last fifteen years.”
A mild smile lifted Onskar’s overly full lips. “Have you? How interesting that you should present yourself this evening, and without Jordaire.” A scoff, and then, “Jordaire. What a hidden wretch of a man. He cheapens the arcane by sharing it with humans, and has the gall to always stay far, far away.”
After a moment’s reflection, Onskar added, “Probably wise.”
A threat lived somewhere in his amused violence, but Pedr didn’t bother sussing it out. Yet.
Onksar tutted under his breath. “A pleasure, Arcanist of the Sea. I believe I’ve heard of you before. Yes,” he sang, eyes glittering. “Yes, I have. You have ties with dear friends of mine.”
His words rang in the air, taut with violence.
Himmel’s shoulders tightened.
