Page 55 of The Queens and the Kings (The Isles #2)

PEDR

Pedr’s jaw worked as he stared at the sky with a bitter surreality. Unleashed, he thought. It was the only word to explain it. No matter how hard the current swept west, the storm pressed the Rosenvatten back. They didn’t move at all, locked in position by wind and waves.

That ship would drown.

Pedr slammed his hand into the wheel. “Stupid!” he shouted. “Shite pieces of bastid . . . stupid!”

Whatever descriptors he came up with, none covered the extent of his self-rage. He never should have sent Britt to the ship. The mission had been foolish from the beginning. He should have gone. Should have fought harder against the blasted curse. His eyes flickered to the sand dial.

Over half her time was gone, and the storm was almost a full hurricane.

Only this hurricane wouldn’t gradually calm and move away.

The Siren Queens would hold it as long as they must in order to subject or harm another wyvern.

Having long ago killed the Father King, the recognized leader of Wyvern Kings, he didn’t doubt the Siren Queens thirsted for another wyvern in their clutches.

Twitching, nose ruffled, he swiped the draining water off his face.

The merchant ship of the line remained ahead of him by sheer arcane instinct.

The sea and the thrumming power of the Arcanist told him there was nothing he could do right now.

Not against the Siren Queens. He just knew , and knowing didn’t always require sense.

Five minutes passed.

Five more.

Nothing changed. Not the intensity of the storm, the power of the wind. He waited it out, held his breath. He commanded the arcane to the edge of consciousness. A single nudge and it would wash into life like a paintbrush, drawing across the sea and sweeping Britt to him.

One minute left.

The moment the last sand granule dropped to the pile, he released his boundaries around the hungry sea. The sea and winds rushed for his sister. Arcane moved past him, through him, toward the mighty ship bobbing uselessly in the storm. A minute passed, and the arcane didn’t immediately return.

Another minute.

The storm waged.

Pedr frowned.

A third minute.

A fourth.

Seven.

Ten.

Confirming the arcane swept by as it should, and some had already returned, indicated the completion of the loop. And that was far more terrible than he wanted to comprehend. Pedr rubbed the water out of his eyes.

What was that halo of light in the distance? It couldn’t be a fire. The hurricane thrashed the ship, nullifying the mighty current. The glow came again.

Again.

That was fire.

Pedr hissed through his teeth. Fire crawled out of the ship of the line’s deck. How did she set the damned thing on fire? With a storm like this, they’d get it under control.

“Britt,” he growled.

Still, no sign of her. Arcane returned to his side in full power, hitting with the force of a boulder.

When the final, returning tendril of arcane coiled in his chest, then dissipated to nothing, Pedr cursed.

He banged a fist on the wheel and sent arcane to the merchant ship again. Ten minutes later, no Britt.

“You bastid Siren Qu—!” he shouted. The curse threatened his throat, but he didn’t care. His resistance tightened his fingers into fists as he screamed. “Siren?—”

His voice cut short.

Queens, you bastids!

His fingers slammed against his palms. He punched his fist into ropes with a guttural scream.

Colors zinged skyward. Rosy hues burst to light in fireworks unbothered by the deluge.

Britt would see them, and she’d know he hadn’t left.

He’d find her somehow. He’d break the curse and leave this blasted ship and . . .

Pedr’s breath cut short.

A wyvern wing gained altitude, flying just over the merchant ship.

“Himmel!” he shouted. “Himmel, light the sky!”

Lightning arced, silhouetting the wyvern from behind. Perched on top, barely more than a huddled lump, was his sister. If he hadn’t been the Arcanist of the Sea, he wouldn’t have seen her clinging to the back, in the narrow strip between the wings.

Pedr shouted.

“Yes!” he cried, following the wyvern as it battled higher. “Yes, you monster. Take her with you, but bring her back to me!”

Laughing into the teeth of the storm, Pedr veered his course east. The mainlander ship could limp home, drown. He didn’t care. He had to save his bloody sister, and then he had to save the love of his life.