Page 67 of The Queens and the Kings (The Isles #2)

brITT

Lamplight kept Britt and Pedr company while he stood at the wheel and charged through the sea.

The currents swirled them southwest, but she had no idea their destination.

Pedr had stood on the deck, eyes closed, hands planted, for an hour before declaring it time to go.

Within minutes, they gathered to near breakneck speed.

The wind whipped so fast it forced them into his quarters.

They sat at his table and spoke all night.

Denerfen flapped between her and her brother, undecided whose shoulder he preferred depending on the changing emotions.

Britt, chin stacked on her fist, elbow propped on her knee, followed Pedr’s incessant explanation about his curse without asking questions, though they cluttered her head like a school of fish.

Siren Queens.

Curse.

Arcanist of the Sea.

History.

Secrets.

Betrayal and hurt and dismay swirled low in her gut, like oil on water. It sloshed with a darkening sensation she couldn’t help, but didn’t want. Clearly, Pedr had no control over a curse he had, miraculously, defeated. At least in part. Yet all these years had passed with so much withheld.

So much about her brother she didn’t understand.

“So,” she said with a surprising amount of disquiet, “all of your time on the ocean the past several years has been to recover Mila.”

“Most of it.”

“The rest?”

He held out both hands. “I’m the Arcanist of the Sea. Arcanists can’t touch or enter the domicile of the other Arcanists. At least, not for long. Where else would I go? What would I have done? I couldn’t leave the ship.”

“But the boat thing?”

“The Siren Queens bound me to the Rosenvatten as punishment for kissing Mila and falling in love with her.”

“And to prevent you from saving Mila?”

“Yes.”

Britt blinked in a flurry, struggling to maintain all the details. “They also cursed you so you couldn’t speak about them or Mila?”

“Right.”

“Blessed mermaids,” she muttered. “They’re devils.”

Washed in her own thoughts about a brother she barely understood, events she had no comprehension existed, and the irrefutable pain of lies, Britt sank into the quiet he allowed. Minutes passed.

Piecing together what he’d said with a startled realization, she said, “For fifteen years you have been secretly trying to locate a woman whom you deeply and irrevocably love?”

Pedr met her searching gaze.

“Yes.”

“You?”

His expression clouded. “Yes. Me.”

A hand to her chest, Britt said, “I’ve always known your capacity to love was great, Pedr. Always. But . . . you never shared it outside of me. I’ve always felt it,” she asserted. “Always. But . . .”

“I know.”

“You love her?”

Without wavering, he said, “Yes.”

Love.

Pedr.

Was it possible?

Wading through her shock, she stammered, “I-I . . . wasn’t expecting that. Of all you just revealed, Mila surprises me the most.”

“Get used to it,” he said firmly. “I’m finding her and I’m saving her from those wretched biddies.”

“Do you think you can find her?”

“I will.”

His finality left no room for follow up questions.

“Breaking the bonds that the Siren Queens placed on my ability to speak about them is going to change the game,” he continued.

“Not only does that mean I can break other layers of the curse, like the one that lashes me to the ship, but it means I have a prayer of breaking the restriction on finding the Siren Queens.”

More gently, Britt asked, “You don’t know anything about Mila’s situation, though. Right? All you know is that the Siren Queens separated you and they have Mila. You’re not sure what she’s been doing, where she is?”

“I know that she’s in the Siren Queen’s castle in the Westlands.”

“Where is their cast?—”

“No one knows,” he said quickly, shutting down the most obvious question. “No one knows exactly where the Siren Queen’s castle is. I know the area, but the protective arcane attached to it protects it from intruders.”

“I see.”

That thought led to another. She asked, almost as quickly as he’d cut her off, “The wyverns are truly kings?”

“Yes.”

“They’re powerful enough to fight the Siren Queens, who are also legends?”

“Yes.”

Britt gulped. “I released the Wyvern Kings.”

“Yes, but what else could you have done? They would have broken out eventually.”

She drummed her fingers along her upper lip, drowning in despair, before concluding, “I’ve doomed the world.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Your efforts aren’t wasted. The Wyvern Kings might be excellent allies.”

“Might be?”

He shrugged.

“You’re just trying to mollify me,” she insisted.

He didn’t disagree. “Britt, I don’t know what to expect. Assuming the Wyvern Kings are wretched bastids with a singular focus is probably our safest route. At least, that’s what I’m going with. And Himmel believes it, too,” he added.

She swallowed her regret. She truly hadn’t known at the time. Knowing now, she still wasn’t sure she’d change anything. He’d spoken to her. Winged her off the burning ship. In some form, he’d done it selfishly.

But still . . .

Pedr lounged against the wall, hands planted behind him. Denerfen, flapping laps around the cabin, settled on his knee. His wings draped to either side.

“Maybe a thousand years of captivity has softened them?” she suggested.

He shot her a look.

She sighed.

“Right. Probably not. Though, to be fair, they did take me out of the arena and dropped me on your ship. They didn’t have to do that.”

“Maybe they did. Your assistance might have forced them to oblige. The rules and confines on the arcane are ancient, odd, and varying. It’s hard to know.

Technically, the odd aspects of arcane is the Wyvern King’s fault.

If they had better defended their mainland, the arcane wouldn’t have been twisted into what it is now.

Regardless,” he cut a hand through the air, “we have problems. And I have a plan.”

“What is our plan?”

“We save Mila, we defeat the Siren Queens.”

“That’s broad.”

“It needs to be.”

“What happens if we don’t defeat the Siren Queens?”

His grim voice sent a shiver through her. “All The Isles die. At least half of the mainland, too, I’d wager.”

She narrowed an eye, arms folded across her chest. “You know? Or you fear?”

“It won’t be good, Britt.”

She sighed.

The ocean skimmed past his vessel with unusual speed. Water sprayed like sharp, spreading needles. She didn’t understand his haste until Pedr nodded to the horizon and said, “We’re headed to Narpurra.”

“Narpurra?” Britt recoiled. “Why Narpurra?”

“We need the soldat rebels that Arvid didn’t have time to gather before he left for Stenberg.”

“But—”

He held up a hand. “An Arcanist’s hunch.”

“Then?”

“Stenberg. The trip will go quickly.” A wave gestured to the ocean zipping past, and the reckless speed that bore them across it in a straight line. “Even quicker than this, if we’re to make it in time.”

“But you said currents and?—”

“It’s worth it. Whatever currents we have to circumvent to get soldat support to Stenberg and free up Einar and Henrik, I’ll deal with later. As an Arcanist, I’m pretty sure I can.”

“You don’t know?”

“Not yet, but breaking that curse has opened up more communication with the arcane than I expected. The Siren Queens held me back in ways that I didn’t understand or see until right now.”

She folded her arms tight across her chest, thrilled by the sound of Henrik’s name. After all the storm-tossed seas and wyverns and uncertainty, the idea of seeing him sent reassurance through her.

“How do you know that we need to make it to Stenberg in time ?”

Pedr smiled. “Arcane. It doesn’t speak to me but . . . I’m starting to understand what’s happening in the ocean. It’s an instinct as much as a voice.”

“That’s . . . exciting?”

Pedr’s smile widened. “Don’t worry, little sister.

I wouldn’t make trouble without you. Once we arrive, I plan to help Henrik and Einar in whatever they need, and then ask them to help us go after the Siren Queens.

The Wyvern Kings love a victor, and Henrik and Einar are going to reek of it.

It will help us convince the Wyvern Kings not to slay us at first sight.

They might not be overly fond of Arcanists. ”

“You’re right,” she conceded, “you need Henrik.”

“I need you, too.”

“Me?”

Pedr leveled her a smooth smile. “You.”

Relief flowed through her. At least he wasn’t trying to protect her and stop her from going. Britt nodded, resolute. “I can’t wait. We’ll gather soldats, head to Stenberg, and then we ,” she stared at him while emphasizing, “will go to the Westlands.”

His discomfort and concern became palpable when he gestured between them with a hand, swallowing hard. “Are we good, Britt? With . . . the Siren Queens and Mila and . . . all of that. Do you forgive me? I would have told you. Really, I wanted to.”

The pressure of his stare was a heavy weight.

All the things that felt unfair to say cluttered her throat.

She wanted to dismiss it and talk about it later, but she owed him something.

The intricacies and hows and whys didn’t matter as much as the fact that Pedr endured unspeakable agony in order to free himself of a curse that, once gone, he immediately told her about.

History lay in the past. Her future was ahead, with Pedr and Malcolm and Henrik. Besides, it required too much energy to hold onto the questions. Energy she definitely didn’t have after a long couple of days with the wyverns.

“I love you, Pedr. And I can’t wait to help you find Mila. Thank you for telling me everything. We’re good.”

His throat bobbed. A lopsided smile surfaced, one she hadn’t seen hints of in years. For that short span, remnants of the older brother she adored appeared behind the mighty Arcanist. It made her throat catch. Denerfen, sensing her rising emotion, fluttered to her shoulder.

She stroked his wings.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his bitty head. “Even if you pretend to like Pedr better.”

Pedr laughed and Denerfen cooed.