Page 74 of The Queens and the Kings
“What’s happening?” she demanded. “You’re pale, breathing fast. Why are you holding your arms to your chest?”
His shoulders curled down. He couldn’t straighten. “No,” he snapped, even though it didn’t make sense. The curse wouldn’t let him say anything else.
“Why won’t you tell me?”
Britt threw herself in front of him, blocking his path. He spun out of her way before they crashed into each other. He charged hard for his cabin.
“Leave me alone!”
His toes curled underneath his foot. Soon, his feet would turn inside. He wouldn’t be able to walk.
Britt insisted, hurried behind him. “Answer me! You look awful. Sweaty and shaky and nervous, like something terrible happened.”
He stopped, a breath from her face, and wrenched out, “None. Of. Your. Business.”
“But—”
“Go away!”
Pedr shoved his shoulder into his cabin door. Britt followed with dogged persistence that would, at some point, wear him into utter madness. He whirled around, startling her. She drew up, a breath away from slamming into his chest yet again. His shoulders heaved, his throat burned.
He barely managed to say, “Britt . . . I can’t . . . Ican’ttell you,” before he choked.
Her eyes widened. “Why? What can’t you tell me? What’s happening?”
His golden eyes bore into hers. He hooked his foot around the door as his ankle canted to the side. Until it straightened, he’d limp painfully or not be able to walk. Too much more of this questioning, and his other foot would do the same.
“Ican’t,” he whispered.
The door slammed shut behind him.
Chapter Twenty Two
BRITT
Drake flapped into the night,a message for Arvid tied to his back leg. Lightning streaked the distant, western horizon in a flash of brilliant purple, illuminating the winged dragon with a hiccup. Denerfen’s wings fluttered, as if he wanted to join Drake.
Britt held his tail.
“You’re staying with me.”
He succumbed to her gentle touch, rubbed his head against her jaw, then flew for Pedr’s berth, where Pedr kept small peppermint drops hidden in a drawer. Einar shoved away from the railing with a yawn.
“Night, Britt.”
“Ta.”
Britt stayed, alone, watching Drake meld into sky. The momentary lull helped her feel the extent of her fatigue. Sunrise hinted at the distant edge of the sky, and exhaustion tugged at her sore, tired muscles. Not even food had helped her feel better.
Pedr haunted her too thoroughly.
Unable to bear another moment alone, she spun on her heels, dropped through the hatch, and slipped down the dark hall. Avague glow illuminated a strip along the floor. She drew closer to it. After a light rap of her knuckles on his door, Henrik called, “Come in.”
He stood near an open porthole in his claustrophobically small cabin. His packed bag sat in a corner off to the side. Always ready. What a representative symbol of Henrik. With his expression low, arms tight across his chest, and a ponderous line across his brow, he looked like the picture of a soldat prepared to flee at a moment’s notice.
Britt paused.
“Are you leaving?”
