Page 58 of The Queens and the Kings (The Isles #2)

He swung around to face the next closest wyvern. A smaller one, chained to a bunch of boulders about thirty steps away. That wyvern twitched, cheeks taut and wary. He shook his back leg as well.

Different contraption.

Same redness.

“All of you?” she asked, glancing around.

The main wyvern advanced a step closer. He slammed his giant head into her back, shoving her closer to the younger wyvern. She barely managed to keep her feet beneath her.

“What are you doing?” She whipped around with a snarl. “That hurt .”

Her irritation went unheeded. The wyvern paused and glared.

“You spoke to me back there.” She gestured to the sea. “You can speak to me here. I deserve that after setting you free from those backstabbing sailors that wanted to sell you to the highest bidder. I should have let them, you bastid.”

He snorted and pushed her closer to the smaller wyvern. Denerfen leaped off her shoulder and darted ahead. The moment he became visible, a great stirring of shock rippled through the other wyverns. Though they made no noise, it might as well have been screams.

Britt lunged for Denerfen, but his nimble flight took him out of reach too quickly.

He glided to the younger wyvern, who appeared more curious than annoyed.

The wyvern studied Denerfen as he flapped around the chain, the wings, and eventually settled.

Denerfen breathed on the clasp, then looked at Britt.

The message couldn’t have been more clear.

She hurried across the space, keeping a wary eye on the circle of ferocious beasts.

The wyvern that brought her twisted around, glancing west with a restless thump, thump of his lower wing joints slamming into the packed earth.

No sign of Keepers thus far. She sped up her pace.

The tension in the air had doubled, and she didn’t like the tightening band.

The smaller wyvern regarded her with mild curiosity as she crouched next to Denerfen. He slapped the metallic contraption with his tail, then spun in circles.

“It doesn’t dissolve in water, does it?”

The smaller wyvern settled his face next to hers. He definitely glared.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

His scowl lessened.

“Well,” she murmured, “you understand far more than I expected. Are you as rude as him?” She jerked her chin over her shoulder. “Because he’s a real bastid sometimes.”

She judged the next glare to be one of reproach, and ignored it.

“The clasp is different, Den.” She trailed her fingers along the edge of it, running her finger across a whittled edge.

“Similar, but stronger. It’s a different metal.

Which makes sense. I suppose the other clasp was supposed to dissolve in case the ship went down, though I can’t imagine why the mainland would care to save you.

” She hastily added, “I would, of course. You have great value. But would they feel the same?”

An irritated snort preceded the wyvern equivalent of an eye roll. A hole in the metal caught her attention. Far to the right, she discovered a key hole along the edge that would make it difficult to open.

“Very inconvenient spot.”

Denerfen landed on her forearm, bent over, and propped his head on the dirt to execute a headstand. It was comical the way he somersaulted onto his back with a squawk.

“Yes, Den. There must be a key.”

Straightening, she turned to find the freed wyvern not far behind, likely listening to every word. Urgency and irritation heightened his restless gaze.

“Presumably,” she drawled, “you want me to set all of you free?”

His nostrils flared. The wyvern leader, as she began to think of him, might have nudged her again, but she dodged him with an arm held out in warning. One of these times, he’d knock her flat on her back and break something.

“Calm down, presumed King. Are all of you under lock and key?”

The gentle rustle of wings, rimming along the arena edge, sounded like confirmation. Britt dragged a hand through her tangled hair.

“But . . . how?”

The wyvern leader’s eyes slotted. She rolled her own. “Fine, Mr. Judgment. It’s pretty simple. I need to find the keys. That’s only one step in the plan, which inevitably involves setting you free, next. First, do you know where the keys are?”

His tail pointed off to the side. She had to climb on top of a rock, Denerfen hovering above her, to see where he gestured.

In the distance was another cave-like feature with a wooden structure in front.

Similar to a shed, it had a wide window that allowed whoever stood inside to speak to someone outside or to pass things through to them.

“Den, go look?”

He zipped off with an eager cry. Britt spun, grateful that the focused stares of all nineteen wyverns made sense. If they wanted her to set them free, they wouldn’t kill her. Yet. She had only to maintain her usefulness.

No small task.

Curiosity propelled her gaze around the pen, which looked very different from the ground. Locating the crevice where she’d snuck through last time eased the knot in her chest. Problematically, it was across the arena on the other side. She’d have to pass at least ten wyverns in order to dart away.

Possible, but not probable.

Greater curiosity sparked her interest, however. Something big—no, colossal—was happening. She’d been inexorably involved.

Denerfen’s bright eyes returned.

“You found the keys?”

Wings fluttering, he butted his head against her jaw in confirmation. Before she could form a reply, something slammed into her from behind. Arms wheeling, she stumbled forward, nearly tripped over a handful of rocks, and skidded on her knees.

Scowling, she shoved off the ground, whirled around, pointed a finger at the looming wyvern, and shouted, “If you want me to set you free, stop pushing me! If you touch me one more time, I will sit on the ground and scream until a Keeper finds me. Got it?”

The wyvern lowered his head along the floor, eyes slashes set in a dusty, exhausted face.

Whatever he wanted, there was clearly a time crunch.

Before the Keepers arrived, perhaps? He appeared equally as testy after flying for who-knew-how-long.

A low growl built at the back of his throat, rumbling into a hiss. She snarled back, teeth bared.

The wyvern recoiled. Astonishment rippled through his savage eyes. Britt brushed her skirt off, though it was long beyond saving.

“Now that’s settled,” she sent him a final silky glare of warning, “let’s come to an understanding. You want me to find the keys, unlock all of you, and set you free?”

The wyvern rumbled. She waited for the voice in her head, but it didn’t come. Exasperated, she motioned to the sky. “I can’t just . . . let you go! There are huge political ramifications. If the mainland found out that I had set you free, they might retaliate on my island.”

The wyvern moved so close that his proximity unnerved Denerfen. She resisted the urge to plant a hand on the wyvern’s gigantic face and shove it away. The wyvern looked to Denerfen, then back to her.

Understanding settled.

“Oh,” she breathed. “You brought me because of . . .” She touched Denerfen. “Because of Den. You know that I can be invisible. You know about draguls? But . . . how?”

As the dawning realization took root, a slamming door reverberated through the arena floor. A raucous laugh from the Keeper's door followed.

Wyverns lifted their heads. Others lowered to the ground, wings spread, mouths hissing in defensive gestures. Chains clinked, but the wyverns' focus remained intent. Two retracted into the shadows and out of sight. The younger smallest ducked below a stone.

Breathless, Britt spun to the wyvern leader. He lowered, hiding behind a low rock wall jutting from the ground.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you?” she murmured, tapping a finger to her cheek. The Keepers had given her an unexpected boon of advantage. The wyvern’s tail snaked close to her.

She threw an arm out, hissing, “Don’t you dare touch me again or I will s cream. I don’t care if you’re a Wyvern King or not, I will happily sell you out if you hit me or my dragul again.”

The tail paused.

Her mind was too cloudy to make sense of her own thoughts. Would there be ramifications of a decision like this? Absolutely. Could she accept those ramifications?

She must.

It wasn’t like the Keepers could help her. They’d be just as frightened by the wyverns. And, anyway, if they were Wyvern Kings, she could benefit if they owed her.

A warning growl resounded in the wyvern’s chest.

“Fine,” she hissed. “But you must make one promise: don’t attack The Isles. I’m not releasing you to pillage and destroy my people. I’m here to keep the islands safe from bullies. You, sir, are definitely a bully.”

The wyvern huffed.

“I’ll take your surly response as an agreement.”

Another shout came from the Keeper’s door. Two different voices, both loud, guffawed over a joke about weak coffee and rancid meat. After their comments died away, two additional voices joined them. Four total.

Crouching behind the rocks, she whispered, “Den, I’ve got a plan to set them free.” He twirled, giddy. Confirmation enough that her plan was the right one. If her dragul felt the wyverns were worth it, they must be.

“Load up your venom. We’re going to need it.”