Page 35 of The Queens and the Kings (The Isles #2)

Despite the wind and water attempting to turn the ship east, an eerie line of brilliant green formed beneath the hull. Straight as an arrow, it cut west. The ship settled onto it with a bucking motion. In moments, the brilliant current grabbed the ship of the line and moved into the roiling storm.

Again.

A battle of two different arcane: one heading west, the other east.

Quicker than it should have been possible, the ship joined the steady current and plowed west yet again. The other force bore the ship in that direction.

Was it Pedr?

No. Why would he?

The wyvern, head tossing, wings flailing, gnawed uselessly at his chains.

Rain sliced from the sky in needle-sharp plinks.

Britt retreated to the wyvern, who would die if the ship swamped.

Swearing under her breath, she raced on wings that buzzed.

The strangely tensile membranes bore the rainy abuse.

No one saw her crash into the top of the deck. Pain ricocheted through her spine as she stumbled to her feet, fully visible again. One wing drooped, broken in half. It dangled at her hip. She clutched the gossamer strands, surprised to find them as fluid as silk. The arcane wings dissolved.

“Shite!” she breathed.

A wyvern wing soared over her head, just missing her. The great beast attempted to right itself as the ship tilted. She’d deal with her wing problem later. First, she had to free this blasted wyvern.

With her feet on the deck, her view became more overwhelming.

Had the clouds from the west truly closed in so quickly?

Had any riptide ever been this swift? Her stomach lurched with each movement.

She shrieked, dodged a wyvern claw as it scudded toward her.

They raked across the deck, stopping him just in time.

“Stop it!” she shouted as the wyvern’s tail nearly flicked her off the ship like a pesky fly. “I’m here to help you!”

The wyvern whirled. His beady black eyes connected with hers. The nostrils widened as he scented her through the rain, clearly seeing her for the first time. Up this close, a distinctive marking showed on the lower neck.

Very familiar markings.

The grayish body, lackluster under normal circumstances, revealed the same markings she viewed on Kapurnick, the night a wyvern winged by.

The web-like discolorations spread from the bottom of the neck and across the wings like tattoos.

Their color difference was subtle. Without the help of close proximity both times, she might not have noticed.

She pointed to his legs. “I want to help!”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. Tentative, both hands held upright, Britt took advantage of a calm moment. She dashed to the closest back leg. To the wyvern’s credit, he didn’t move. He peered at her as she gripped hold of the manacle and studied the chain.

“It can’t be that difficult,” she hissed. “They attached it in mere seconds. They’re lubbers, for arcane’s sake!”

The reddish, metal construction was nothing complicated.

A round clasp, mostly. She had to hold down a lever to wiggle the chain free of the attachment point.

The chain clattered to the deck, and the wyvern cried out as the manacle gave way.

Whatever glowing arcane it once held had gone. Destroyed in the storm, maybe?

A wave bashed into the side of the ship, knocking it to the side. She threw her arms around the wyvern’s leg and lifted her feet. Partially unbound, they skidded across the deck, crashing into the railing on the far side.

Britt shouted, and the wyvern bellowed. His wing slammed into the gunwale, splintering it. For one terrible moment, they hovered on the edge. Britt’s legs dangled free over the churning ocean.

The wyvern yanked her back.

Gasping, saturated, eyes stinging from the salt water, she scrabbled to hold on.

The ship counter rocked and her slippery hold released.

She plunged across the listing deck, plummeting fast. The wyvern’s other leg loomed dead ahead.

If she skidded past, if her momentum was too great, she’d vault right into the rip current.

Pedr’s wooden disk still bit into her shoulder, but inspired little confidence.

With a thud that stole her breath, she slammed into the wyvern’s leg. Gaping against the hot agony in her ribs, she reached for the wyvern’s now-lackluster chain. It twisted in his talons while she pounded on his ankle, striking bone.

“Shake your leg!” she shouted.

The wyvern protested with a roar, but obeyed.

Britt’s teeth jarred in her head as she clung to the trembling leg.

The twisted chains broke loose. Another wave broke over them with less power.

She reached for the clasp, hauled it back, and cranked it free.

As it gave way, the wyvern shot off the deck like a crack of cannon powder.

Screaming, Britt wrapped her arms around the wyvern’s leg. Without its weight, the ship of the line surged higher. Angled at the swell of an incoming wave, it groaned as it swept sideways. The gigantic wave crashed over deck, shattering one mast to bits.

They winged away.

The wyvern tossed her into the sea.

Water engulfed her, splashing her nasal passages with salty fire. She coughed, surfaced, sputtered as a wave collapsed over her head. Her limbs synced into instinctual motion as she swam for the top, breaking out with a second life-giving gasp.

A crimson light flickered red amidst the charcoal sky. Pedr shouted, “Grab on!” before something heavy splashed in front of her. A rope. She grabbed it with both hands. At first touch, she soared out of the water. The arcane flung her into the air, wrenching the rough rope out of her hands.

Britt flailed, descending as quickly as she ascended. Pedr’s strong arms caught her, cushioning her as they sprawled to the deck together. Panting, Britt rolled off of him. She pressed her cheek to the ship.

“Never,” she breathed, “again.”