Page 86 of The Queens and the Kings
“Shut up.”
Einar laughed. The momentary richness inspired a sense of hope. Amidst all the grief, Einar existed. Hope for revenge propped him up. After a long time without speaking, Einar broke the silence.
“I’m going to chase down the Arcanist of Souls.”
The firm pronouncement didn’t surprise Henrik. If any margin of confidence existed that Agnes might be alive, Einar would chase it to his own detriment. But the inscrutability of whether the desired outcome was possible concerned Henrik.
“You don’t know if that promise is real.”
“Pedr is an Arcanist.”
“That has nothing to do with Agnes.”
“He said that?—”
“Pedr didn’t guarantee it, according to the last time we spoke. Pedr being an Arcanist doesn’t mean the Arcanist of Souls can bring Agnes to life again.”
“You don’t know that,” Einar shot back.
“You don’t either.”
Grumbling, Einar muttered, “I know, but if there’s any hope, I have to chase it. Ihaveto. Pedr and his power is real enough, which means the other Arcanists must exist too.” Einar’s jaw worked as he fell into silence. “Pedr has no reason to lie to me. He hates most of us, except Denerfen and Britt. If he is full of shite . . .”
He trailed off.
Henrik didn’t want him to finish that sentence. “Then we’ll figure it out,” he said.
Einar grunted into the sullen silence. Henrik resisted the urge to clap a hand on Einar’s shoulder and say,She’s gone.No one will bring her back.Einar wouldn’t listen. His ears wouldn’t hear logic yet. The best Henrik could do was buy time. The passage of days and hours until Einar was ready for reality.
“I’m here,” he said.
Einar nodded.
After an hour of simmering quiet, the sun glided below the horizon. The crackling, distant tempest illuminated the world with spiny lightning flashes.
Einar stood, stretching his arms over his head. He pointed at a familiar, burning pink sail gliding into the bay. “The bastid sails like he owns the place.”
“He sort of does.”
Relief flooded Henrik, all the same. Not only from his desire to leave the mainland, but to fix his eyes on Britt again. Speakingof His Glory and the slimy things that followed made his skin itch. Once he spoke with Britt, he’d feel better.
Everything felt better with Britt.
Chapter Twenty Four
BRITT
Britt’s astonishmentat Pedr’s vanishing ship paled in comparison to ten minutes later, when she tipped her head back and stared above her shoulders.
Wings.
Arcane, gossamer wings.
The massive flanges stuck out of Britt’s spine like giant bones, folded over by a thick, textured membrane. They shimmered with each flutter in the sunlight. For how large they spanned, she expected them to feel heavy. She hardly noticed them.
“Pedr.” The whisper barely left her lips. “What. Are. These.”
“Wings.”
