Page 10 of The Queens and the Kings (The Isles #2)

brITT

A touch on her shoulder and a boot in her ribs roused Britt from sleep. Disoriented by the honey-like smell of sommarblomstar flowers, and the cool kiss of a breeze on her face, it took several seconds for her to remember she wasn’t on the ship.

Her eyes fluttered open to find Malcolm staring at her, Tesserdress tucked against his neck. Denerfen stirred against her clavicle, stretching lazily. His wings fluttered under her chin, a whispering promise.

Malcolm tapped her ribs again, none too gently.

“Get up.”

“Bastid,” she muttered.

Malcolm chuckled.

Britt rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand as Henrik shoved to his feet, eyeing Malcolm warily. Tension hummed between them. By the missing warmth lingering at her back, she must have been cuddling Henrik in her sleep. No wonder Malcolm looked as surly as a Krackalack dervish.

Sunlight broke the far horizon, a slit of glassy light nestled in a grapefruit sky, where water split air. Wind warbled past, a dewy caress on her cheek.

Malcolm glanced at Henrik, then Britt. “General Helsing wants to speak with both of you in her office right now.” His words sank like a heavy weight when he turned to speak to Henrik. “You really believe your mother is on the mainland?”

Henrik licked his lips. “I have intelligence that indicates a high possibility.”

“From Arvid?”

Henrik nodded. A wash of embarrassment flowed through Britt. With the wyvern stirring up attention, and the excitement of showing Henrik her close dragul world, she hadn’t thought to ask Henrik about his visitor.

Malcolm turned to Britt. “You, Pedr, Henrik, Einar, and Agnes are setting sail soon. Sailors are already loading Pedr’s ship with supplies.”

Her head whipped up. “General Helsing agreed?”

Malcolm nudged her toward the stairs.

“On one condition, and you’re about to find out what it is.”

Dreams of cold Kapurnickkian fruit salad for breakfast propelled Britt through the corridors, Henrik at her side. Hopes of her favorite mushy fruit, the juvi, made her mouth water. At a branching of hallways, Malcolm split away with a promise to find them at the dock, and a bidding of luck.

“I’ll handle this conversation,” Britt said as they closed in on General Helsing’s office.

Henrik posed no argument.

Denerfen coiled on her neck, flipping between the right and left ear, before settling in on the left. He nuzzled her lobe as she approached her aunt’s office, stepping through the open doorway. She touched Denerfen’s neck. “It will be fine.”

General Helsing stood behind her desk, fingertips pressed to the top of the wood, when they entered. Henrik closed the door behind them.

“I’ve already ordered the supplies sent to . . . the ship.” General Helsing paused. She only spoke Pedr’s name when forced. “There are conditions.”

“I assumed.”

Was it on purpose that her aunt began the loading process before Britt agreed?

Or had the wyvern last night inspired General Helsing to a new sense of haste?

Both, probably. As monosyllabic and intense as her aunt could be, she was supremely intentional.

Cunning didn’t quite do her justice. With General Helsing, nothing happened by accident.

“What do you require?” Britt asked, arms at her side, fingers curled. A stance General Helsing required when Britt was a child. Anything else makes you appear insecure and weak, she once said. Stand like you mean it.

“I expect you to speak to the Lordlady on my behalf.”

Britt managed an astonished, “The Lordlady?” before words failed her.

Speaking to the powerful leader of the mainland was the last stipulation Britt may have ever expected.

General Helsing straightened up from the desk.

Her eyes revealed no agitation, but the stiffness through her neck gave her away.

“A mainland wyvern flew around Kapurnick last night. I want to know why.”

“You think the Lordlady lost control?”

“Or brought it.”

Britt’s stomach clenched; such was the fears she harbored last night. Fears Pedr did nothing to soothe.

“I don’t want you to say anything to the Lordlady about the wyvern,” General Helsing said.

“As far as the islands are concerned, nothing has changed. I want you to speak to the Lordlady as if nothing happened. You’ll meet with him as a general maintenance of the relationship, as my official agent, then go outside of him to figure out why the wyvern flew over Kapurnick. ”

“You think they’re staging a war.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re thinking it.”

General Helsing stared, flat and unaffected.

“If I’m to be your emissary,” Britt retorted, “you owe me a full picture of the truth.”

“You are not an emissary, Britt, as I have no message for you to deliver. You are my agent . Your intention is cordial and well-wishing as you casually stop by the mainland in search of the soldat’s lost parent.” General Helsing’s gaze drifted to Henrik and back.

“ The soldat’s name is Henrik,” Britt ground out.

General Helsing said nothing. The challenge turned Britt’s heart into a fist. General Helsing kidded, surely.

This sort of a mission was an opportunity to instigate a war, not just research the possibility of one.

Her aunt wanted Britt to spy on wyverns while pretending to be friends with the most powerful leader in Elestra.

“Start your information seeking by meeting with Alma and Carina,” General Helsing advised.

“ After you’ve spoken with the Lordlady.

That will give you a chance to feel the situation out with the mainland leader and then understand better what’s happening.

Alma has always been willing to take you into the Lordlady’s household and feed you, and you haven’t played with Carina in a year or two.

Surely, there will be something to discuss. ”

“Alma is his assistant! She won’t betray his confidence. Certainly not for a woman she only sees once a year, if that.”

“You have known Alma and Carina since you first came into my care. Alma sees you like a daughter.”

“You might be willing to exploit relationships, but I won’t.”

“I never suggest you use Alma’s relationship as a means of spying,” she said coldly. “Merely that you have another avenue in which to . . . take the temperature . . . of the mainland.”

Gaunt, she whispered, “General Helsing, I cannot?—“

“You can.”

“But—“

“If I send anyone except you, under the guise of your current motivation with Henrik,” General Helsing slid her heavy glance to Henrik with a slight nod, “then they might see it as a potential problem. You and Henrik, attempting to find his mother, will not trigger much concern.”

“I’m spying for you.”

“Yes.”

General Helsing’s bland conclusion took several seconds for Britt to register before her fury caught up with her.

“Last night, you accused me of being willing to make a vow with a mussel to serve my flippant desire for freedom. Yet, you ask me to do this?”

“It is freedom,” General Helsing stated coldly, “that I offer.”

Britt’s mouth bobbed uselessly several times before she managed to close it. She didn’t dare look at Henrik, afraid of what she’d see.

What choice did she have?

They didn’t have supplies to make it as far as Narpurra, nor means to gain supplies without time to work or trade.

Trading for a ship full of their requirements on Narpurra could take weeks.

Pedr’s arcane use didn’t extend to conjuring victuals out of nowhere—that she knew of.

Though it once brought her an empty seashell.

Besides, Kapurnick needed more information about the wyvern, didn’t they?

She protected her draguls only by leaving them, it seemed.

General Helsing knew Britt’s tenuous position.

Her shrewd side emerged to make efficiency and productivity collide again.

This side of General Helsing reminded Britt of Pedr in female form.

General Helsing in her strategic power was glorious, an emerging butterfly from a chrysalis.

Other times, horrifying. A sea monster with vengeance in her eyes.

Such power to wield.

“What is the desired end state?” Britt rasped.

“I want to know what’s happening with the wyverns, and if we need to anticipate hostilities.

If the mainland has lost control of the wyverns, the Lordlady may not know it flew this far.

If they brought the wyvern to our island, we can expect war.

The Lordlady certainly won’t reveal anything true, I would imagine.

Hence, my command for you to find the answer elsewhere. ”

“What if I can’t?”

“You will.”

“He knows I’m your niece! So do his military leaders. We’ve been to the mainland too many times together to hide it.”

General Helsing gazed beyond Britt’s shoulder, right to Henrik.

“This mission is not for you alone.”

Fury filled Britt, then dread. General Helsing was also using Henrik. The sneaky cur.

The swap of emotion made nausea rise. She swallowed it back and spun. Henrik regarded her aunt with curiosity and an unreadable twitch of his jaw. Only when Britt turned did Henrik give her his full attention. The irritation she saw there gave her a boost of courage.

“I won’t agree without you,” she whispered. Her hand twitched at her side. She met his gaze, chin high, but it cost her no small amount of pride. Her aunt had tricked them into this dangerous position, and it galled her.

Henrik lifted his hand, put his bent knuckle under her chin, and whispered, “I go where you go.”

She shivered at his contact, the rumbly promise, and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

His gaze hardened.

She spun on her heels. The removal of his touch left her feeling cold. “We’re in agreement, General Helsing. In exchange for sufficient provisions, I’ll act as Kapurnick’s agent.”

Rowboats surrounded Pedr’s ship, laden with goods.

Boxed supplies lifted from their interior and onto his deck without ropes or pulleys.

It was one of the only truly functional arcane powers he had—cargo loading and unloading, rowboats included.

Pedr silently coordinated each box with an off-putting glare.

The sailors, wide-eyed and wordless, sat back as supplies elevated and lowered by seemingly invisible means.

Pedr only had to keep his right big toe tapping in a synchronized rhythm that controlled the speed and longevity. When he stopped, so did the work. Thankfully, he coordinated from behind the railing, which negated anyone speaking to him.

A familiar visage drew Britt from her thoughts. Malcolm walked at a fast clip, a paper in one hand. The determined look on his face spoke to trouble.

“You survived?” he asked.

“She did, too.” Britt added, “Though, it was close.”

Malcolm grinned, and it dispelled the building angst. She loathed confrontations with General Helsing, but the cobwebs cleared with Malcolm nearby and the promise of returning to Pedr’s ship.

Malcolm gestured to the supplies with a wave of his hand.

“Obviously, you agreed?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry, Britt. I tried to convince her it was a bad idea, having you spy, but you sealed it yourself. You made it all the way to Stenberg and back, saved me, saved Tess, kept Denerfen and yourself alive, and returned to tell the tale. Regardless of the drama between,” he added lightly.

“Whether it seems that way or not, she sees you as capable.”

Britt ignored his carefully-spoken statement of drama to say, “She didn’t leave us much choice.”

“You could have refused.”

“And what?”

He shrugged. “Sail for Narpurra and find a way to work on a merchant vessel, or bum off a frigate.” Malcolm nodded to Henrik. “A former soldat would find work on a frigate in about five seconds. Especially from Narpurra. They ask no questions.”

Britt interrupted by slashing a hand through the air. “Stop. It’s fine. After that wyvern appeared, I can’t say that I blame her for wanting answers, however she can get them. This is a faster and more certain path to Selma and the mainland, as well as safety for Kapurnick. We need to know.”

“True, but it’s dangerous.”

Henrik stepped closer. His hand smoldered along the small of her back when he set it there. “She’ll be safe.”

Malcolm met his gaze. With a long breath out, he surrendered by raising a hand. “I trust you both.” To Britt, he said, “Don’t be stupid.”

He lifted the other hand, shaking a paper back and forth, and extended it to Henrik.

“I know people on the mainland that might aid your search for Selma. There’s a scribe in the Lordlady’s employ to whom I’ve written.

Here’s a copy of the letter that I sent, to validate that you’re the right person.

Find him. He’ll help you access records. ”

Britt perked up.

“Really?”

Malcolm flicked the rolled paper open to reveal a handwritten message with smudged ink.

Hasty, but concise. Stenberg and soldat and birth mother flashed on the page as she skimmed the writing.

Malcolm snapped his wrist again and the paper curled together.

He slipped a piece of twine around the middle to encompass it, and passed it to Henrik.

“I hope it helps.”

“Thank you.” Henrik held out a hand, which Malcolm accepted in a quick clasp. “It means a lot.”

Malcolm nodded to Britt. “Take care of her for me, will you? She needs it.”

Britt choked back a string of chastisements. Instead, she threw herself into his arms. He held her tight.

“Take care of the draguls,” she whispered. “Tell them I’ll be back.”

Malcolm laughed, shoving her away. “Don’t be dramatic, Britt. It’s just a spying mission involving Elestra’s most powerful leader and the potential for a catastrophic war that we’d be unlikely to survive. You can tell the draguls yourself when you return.”