Page 32 of The Queens and the Kings (The Isles #2)

Britt gasped, grabbing for the first thing she could find.

A mast. Her firm footing didn’t falter, although she stared down at smashed water crossed by lines.

Her body, her shoes, the rigging, all of it invisible.

She tapped a tentative toe forward. Far beneath her, water sprayed off the still-there-but-not-visible hull. She stood stories above the sea.

“You’re insane!” she shouted.

Pedr laughed.

Heart in her throat, Britt lifted her focus to the wyvern. She no longer required the spyglass to track the erratic, odd movements. It never flew very high, remaining around the white sails.

They cut across the sea, driving toward the ship of the line as it inched west. No other ships approached.

“How did you figure that out?” she demanded.

“The invisibility?”

“Yes! It’s a bloody flute.”

“There’s a wild story behind it. I’ll tell you later.”

Breathless, she ventured a tentative step forward. When she didn’t topple into the sea, she dared another and another. Despite being gone , the ship was still present. She held out a hand, waved it, yet saw nothing.

“When wyverns and big ships are involved,” Pedr called over the wind roaring in her ears, “there’s always a reason for haste.”

Dead ahead, the same wyvern rose from the ship, and her heart caught. It launched from the giant ship of the line. Was it the same one she saw in the sky days ago? The same that flew around Kapurnick?

“Why is a wyvern on the ship of the line?” she shouted.

“I don’t know!”

Her reaching fingers touched the bend of his elbow. Grateful to find him, she held tight to his side. The reckless ocean charge felt marginally less horrifying with Pedr close.

“When it comes to those beasts heading west,” he said, “we need to know?—”

His voice choked off. Britt noted it. He couldn’t say much, if anything about wyverns. He’d specifically mentioned the west , too.

The ship of the line continued to close in. At such a behemoth size, it didn’t move quickly, but they’d collide if Pedr kept this up for too long. As if he read her mind, the ship slowed beneath her feet. They cut at an efficient angle, but not breakneck.

“I’m slowing because I can’t safely maintain this forever.”

“That makes sense.”

“It’s not me ,” he added, a bit tetchy. “Nor the arcane. It’s the ocean. I can change currents to bring us anywhere I want, but changing currents has massive effects on marine life and the ocean overall. I have to be careful, very balanced.”

She hadn’t expected that .

“Oh,” she managed.

Pedr as Arcanist of the Sea would always be weird.

“We’re going visible,” he declared.

“You can’t just appear out of nowhere!”

“I definitely can and I absolutely do it often.”

“You’re going to terrify that entire ship. The wyvern, too.”

She felt him smile.

“I know. How do you think Burning Beard earns his name? Have a little fun, Britt.”

With one breath on his tiny flute, the ship came into view all at once, sails flaring to life with shimmering rose flames.

Stunned by the change of absolutely nothing at her feet to solid planks again, Britt could only stare at Pedr’s very real and present corporeal form. Rosenvatten was so bizarre.

Rosenvatten settled into the water by listing side to side in a trough. She grabbed his arm. As always, Pedr didn’t budge. Immovable, even against ocean instability.

They remained far enough from the ship of the line to be uncertain how it responded to their sudden appearance.

Did the sailors panic? Scream? Through the spyglass, she thought she viewed figures racing around.

The wyvern cut overhead, attempting to land on a sprawling mid-deck larger than any she’d seen in the past.

“It’s a mainland ship of the line, all right.” Pedr’s shrewd eyes confirmed details she couldn’t. “The insignia has been hidden, but who else would have such a large ship in these waters? The eastern colonies aren’t that organized anymore, and the citadels long gone.”

Eastern colonies were something she knew nothing about. Nor the citadels, though they’d come up in conversation before. She ignored the references to focus on details of the rigging and sails. She held the spyglass to her eye.

“Pedr?”

He grunted.

“There’s a midship area,” she said. “It’s very flat, and square, and mostly clear of rigging. At least, there’s enough space without ropes that a wyvern could feasibly land there. Because that ship is . . . huge .”

“Yes it is.”

“But . . . why?”

“Power and motivation is universal, little sister. They’re bastids, anyway. Pay attention, because they’re going to let the wyvern land on it.”

“Not surprising, considering the wyvern launched from it.”

“Why would the mainland want to transport wyverns?” he asked, darkly thoughtful.

“I cannot guess. Aren’t they dead set to hit Kapurnick island if they continue on this path?”

“They’re reckoning west. Whether their motivation involves Kapurnick, I have no idea.”

His tone, devoid of emotion except mild astonishment, drew her attention from the wyvern, who approached the ship with a wriggling tuna in its teeth.

The giant beast gracefully navigated between the ropes, landing with a gentle dexterity.

The ship sloshed side to side, but corrected with surprising fluidity.

Her jaw dropped.

“It worked!”

“Indeed,” he muttered.

“Are they using the arcane?”

“No, just science.” Pedr studied her, one light eyebrow quirked high. “Speaking of arcane, one of us needs to head over there and find out more, and we know it won’t be me. How do you feel about wings?”