Page 79 of The Queens and the Kings
Of course he didn’t. Pedr never slept. It took years before she realized that wasn’t a facetious fact.
Heneverslept.
She knew that. As a young girl, it hadn’t taken her long to figure out that folklore tales about Arcanists were real. She’d known her older brother was Arcanist of the Sea for years outof sheer wits and observation. Pedr acted too shy to admit it outright until she was much older.
Yet somehow . . . it didn’t seem quitereal. She shielded his secret, understanding Pedr wanted to be Burning Beard, the pirate. Rebel against authority, pain in their aunt’s side, and her eldest brother.
Her hero.
Not Pedr, Arcanist of the Sea. Mysteries and secrets always shrouded him.
“I don’t remember you like this,” she admitted, quietly. “When I was younger, I mean, and we’d go on months-long voyages together.”
“When you were younger,” came his gruff reply, “I hid it better. I had less arcane ability then.”
“Why did you hide it?”
Teeth bruised his bottom lip. “Because you were younger. I didn’t want you to know.”
“I’m sorry I worried you while on the mainland.” She sighed. “Yesterday wasn’t fair to you. I know it was risky, but I wanted the answers.”
“I understand.”
Besides,she silently added,it’s not like you could have helped.Pedr hadn’t left the ship since the time their parents died.
Perhaps that was the beating heart of Pedr’s frustration. He stared hard at her, and the strained silence settled into long moments. When it became a burden, Pedr nudged her toe with his. “Tell me what you think about the wyverns and what you learned. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to say it yesterday.”
Her story required little time, because she skipped the journey and focused on the wyverns. Pedr remained thoughtful, pensive, while she extrapolated every detail she could recall.
“All that I know,” she concluded, “is that the wyverns were restless. Constantly gazing west. Mean-spirited to each other, too.”
His jaw clenched, neck flexed. He gripped the wheel with greater agitation, his powerful fingers grinding it. Recalling their previous conversation, and his bound tongue, she asked nothing else. Her curiosity piqued, however.
She catalogued the things he didn’t say instead. The wyverns were an obvious trigger to his restriction.
“The Keepers clearly had a hard time with them,” she said in a musing tone. “I’m still not sure whether the wyvern that soared around Kapurnick was an accident or intentional. That’s a very long flight.” More softly, she added. “The rest were chained.”
Her morose words settled in a gray swill. Bothered by the treatment of the ferocious beasts, but not sure why, she sank into a confused stupor. The trip had revealed details, but she felt less certain over what they meant for Kapurnick.
Thus far, she didn’t have enough to report to General Helsing. Or anything helpful, really. No idea why the wyvern flew over Kapurnick, nor insight into the Ladylord’s plans. Arguably, Alma wouldn’t attack Kapurnick unexpectedly.
Would she?
Pedr stared west, a pattern as solemn and drawing as the wyverns. He captured their longing and brought it close.
“Keep at it,” he rasped with a grimace. “Keep checking. Keep pressing. Keep searching. You’ll figure it out, or I will.”
With his promise lingering in the air, Pedr returned to his berth.
The next day, Henrik and Einar gave up their friendly competition over sharpened throwing stars and traded eviscerating weapons for a rowboat.
Britt watched them go, dawn rippling a colorful quilt in the water skirt surrounding them. Henrik’s bare arms worked with impressive strength, giving her plenty to appreciate as he faded into sea and sky.
“Think the meeting with General Nils and Alma will go well?” she asked.
Pedr laughed.
Hard.
