Page 23 of The Queens and the Kings (The Isles #2)

Of course he didn’t, and they both knew it. Her careful calculation nudged them toward an impossible motivation he couldn’t decipher.

“There wasn’t a choice, Ladylord.”

“Ripped from your family, weren’t you?”

Henrik sensed her opening, and it surprised him.

He hadn’t considered Selma entering this conversation at all, yet the Ladylord set her hooks.

He kept Selma tucked into the box in his stomach, where he stuffed all the hard things.

Where fears went to die, but actually thrived.

Then he took that thriving and he turned it to rage.

“You are the reason Malcolm wrote to one of my scribes, inquiring about a Stenberg woman named Selma, are you not?”

The power move was subtle, but obvious. Malcolm’s request hadn’t gone unnoticed, and she wanted him to note it. New appointment as leader or not, she held her scribe’s loyalty.

“Yes.”

“It turns out, Henrik the soldat, that you and I have the same enemy. That makes us friends. Friends help one another out. At least, we do on the mainland. My scribe is making inquiries into Selma Anderberg now. I promise to follow up whether there is failure or there is success.” Her eyes gleamed. “In exchange, I ask for one favor.”

His hackles rose.

Ah.

The crux.

“What is that, Ladylord?”

“In exchange for information on Selma, I ask that you return to Pedr’s ship, obtain your friend, Einar, and return tomorrow. I would like to formally request an hour of your and Einar’s time.”

Henrik hesitated.

The Ladylord smiled. “One hour, soldat. I am good on my word. Another officer of mine will be present. Nils, a general and trusted commander. He has greatly assisted my passage into the Ladylord these past weeks. By agreeing to one hour, you make no other commitments.”

The request didn’t surprise him as much as General Helsing having predicted something like it. Hadn’t she warned them? This mission is not for you alone.

An hour in exchange for a chance to meet Selma? Easiest agreement he ever made. “Yes, Ladylord. I’ll return tomorrow with Einar.”

Neither Henrik nor Britt spoke as they returned to the sea.

Henrik felt a measure of relief at Britt’s silence, and fear at her wrinkled brow.

Soldats rarely spoke unless they could guarantee privacy, and there wasn’t a hint of it in Klipporno.

Too many sailors leered at her as they passed.

He resisted the urge to yank her to his side. The sailors faded on seeing his glower.

The sun sparkled on beryl waters when they returned to the dock.

Thankfully, the little rowboat hadn’t taken a liking to some other sloop and skittered off.

Humidity hung over the ocean, obscuring ships cluttering the bay.

Rowing would loosen his muscles. The pull on his energy and the chance to think this through was most welcome.

Wordless, Britt climbed into the rowboat, casting a grateful smile to the dockmaster and the woman at his side.

Within minutes, Henrik rowed them away from the dock and into the quieter bay.

Once space lay between them and Klipporno, Britt brushed her hair out of her eyes and turned to fully face him.

“So?”

Henrik pulled hard on the oars, grunting at the end.

“So?”

“What did you think of Klipporno?”

“Busy.”

She laughed. “Is that your only impression?”

“Chaotic. Fairly well organized. The security appears porous, but if arcane is involved, it’s hard to tell. I don’t like that.”

Another laugh burst out of her, easing the tension. He dug harder into the water with the oars, feeding the burn.

“Klipporno must be at least a little overwhelming?”

“Not too much.”

“Good. You really didn’t answer many of her questions. I’ve never seen anyone so expertly dodge such a powerful leader.”

Was that respect or frustration in her voice? He couldn’t tell, so he responded with another shrug. Wind whipped the hair out of her eyes. Her open expression, so curious, almost made him laugh.

“You answer my questions,” she said.

“Well, I care about you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. I’ve . . . never . . . never had . . . friends before.”

Surprise registered on her expression for only a heartbeat before it cleared. She smiled. “You’re my friend too, Henrik.”

He didn’t know how to say, that is not all we’ll ever be , without sounding like an idiot.

An admission of friendship barely stuttered out of him, and he wanted to throw up.

Britt couldn’t hide a thing. He saw her admiration, her affection.

She treated him unlike any other male in her vicinity, which he rather enjoyed.

But he wasn’t sure he could promise what she sought.

What sort of life could a lost soldat guarantee?

Einar’s harried expression and deep loss struck him hard in the chest. Did he want that? No. Was he willing to let Britt go to someone else?

Absolutely not.

Which was utterly impossible to articulate in a fair way.

Besides, now wasn’t the time. Not only did she have to mentally work through the Ladylord, but also to glean information on wyverns without being caught. He had a meeting with the Ladylord that he had to convince Einar to join, and revenge against his former tyrant to plot.

Freedom, freedom.

How liquid her reality.

“I noticed,” he leaned into a splashing wave with a grunt, “that you didn’t mention the wyverns.”

She propped a hand on her chin and stared beyond him.

“Not yet. General Helsing didn’t want me to and I can see why.

Alma was far more focused on you. Once she affirmed our relationship, there was little to distract her from her obvious purpose.

” Her nose wrinkled. “General Helsing was, as usual, right. It rattles me how that woman so correctly reads situations.”

“You won’t bring them up to your friend ?”

“Despite only seeing her once or twice a year, Alma was like a second mother.”

“Really?”

A ghost of a smile wobbled. Britt dropped her hand, running her bottom lip through her teeth. “It felt that way, once. To say that I was shocked to see Alma as the Ladylord drastically understates it. I feel . . . I feel as if I didn’t really know her at all.”

“I noticed.”

Her shoulders hunched. Grimacing, she asked, “Really?”

“I don’t know if she noticed.”

Britt tossed a hand. “Oh, well. I warned General Helsing that I was no agent. There’s only so much I can do.”

“Who is Alma? Besides the Ladylord and former Lordlady assistant, anyway.”

“Alma is Carina’s mother, a formerly destitute woman who, like many previous Lordladys and Ladylords before her, worked from unexpected angles to a position of great power.”

“Really?”

“She wasn’t kidding when she said that the mainland supports leaders who are willing to lead the people, but appreciate all walks of life. Alma must have been keeping track of and understanding the machinations and politics as his assistant.”

Henrik let those revelations settle, leading to his greatest question. “When she said she saw an opportunity, and she took it, what does that mean?”

Britt’s expression darkened. “She killed him.”

“I assumed so.”

“There’s no other way to explain it. There must have been a moral justification. Otherwise, I can’t see her committing such an act. He departed from the mainland laws, or something?” Britt blew a raspberry. “I don’t know.”

“Some people don’t have moral codes, Britt.”

She shot him a perturbed look.

He kept it.

With a heavy breath, Britt settled her chin back to her fist and stared out, morose. “Regardless, her being in that position changes things.”

“For the better?”

“I don’t know. I’m . . . not sure if we can really trust her. I thought I knew her. I really did. But the Alma I knew wasn’t this Alma. It feels . . .”

“Off balance?”

“Yes.”

“You were tense the whole time.”

Chuckling, she ran a hand over her face.

“Of course I was. The moment I saw Alma, I felt utterly unmoored. With the previous Lordlady, it was straightforward. I knew him. I thought I knew her. Can we trust what she says? I have no idea. All motivations, goals, everything is different. In some ways, I wish it was still the former Lordlady.”

“You were an honorable Kapurnickkian agent. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Thanks,” she said wryly, chewing on a nail. She straightened with an explosive, “I hated it! General Helsing wants me to represent her, and I’m not trained, nor interested, in speaking between leaderships of nations. Particularly not a nation with as much power as the mainland.”

“The islands aren’t helpless.”

Britt waved her hand toward the illuminated expanse growing smaller with every spear of the oar. “Against that? Against wyverns ? Henrik, be serious.”

He stilled, unable to argue the point. He’d seen one port city against the rest of the mainland. What did he know?

“The relationship between General Helsing and the mainland has been meticulously curated over several decades. General Helsing has wisely been attentive and attuned into the mainland for years. It’s the only reason she was voted into power.”

“Really?”

Britt nodded. “That, and my father’s reputation.

People were devastated when he died, and she had always been part of his political campaign.

She’s done a good job in her role, too. The mainland needs General Helsing, and they both realize it.

Without Kapurnick, the mainland has no real hold on The Isles, or the exports that The Isles contribute. ”

“What exports are that important?”

“Arcane, mostly. Although the popularity is reducing as time passes. Sometimes they buy jord.”

“There must be others.”

Britt shrugged. “I’m not sure. There are fruits, other minerals. Of course, a child like myself never merited extensive knowledge into whatever the mainland requires from The Isles. Their agreements have to be very carefully managed. Otherwise, it looks like the mainland is meddling or tyrannical.”

The question of what the mainland wanted nagged like a whiny dog. Arvid would know. Henrik planned to write to him before bed and inquire. Drake hadn’t been on a long flight in awhile.

Henrik enjoyed the row. Britt unwound in the slaps of water and calm. With each pull of his arms, they skipped away from land and closer to Pedr’s ship.

“Do you think Einar will agree to meet with the Ladylord and Nils?” she asked.

“He’d leave immediately if he knew it would gain him access to an enemy of His Glory.”

Hands braced on the seat, she straightened. “If there’s any chance that Selma lives on the mainland, the Ladylord’s scribe will find her.”

“Good.”

“The Ladylord might want to help with His Glory.”

“One enemy against another. Is His Glory a problem for the mainland?”

“Must be.”

“Do you know how?”

She shook her head.

Henrik asked, “What will you do about the wyverns?”

“Find them,” she stated with confidence. “Tomorrow, while you and Einar meet with Alma—I mean the Ladylord. It’s the perfect cover.”

Henrik swallowed his concerns about Britt alone on the mainland.

With a shake of her head, she said, “I’ll feel better once Den is back on my shoulders. I don’t like being away from him. I should have brought him. I will tomorrow.” After a searching gaze, she said. “Selma will be worth it, Henrik. I can feel it.”

He smiled softly, but didn’t say a word. They slid across the ocean, the pulse of the oars singing like a lullaby.