Page 76 of The Queens and the Kings (The Isles #2)

PEDR

Einar leaned against the railing, arms sprawled, gaze locked on something beyond sight.

The liquid sunset dribbled into the reassuring blackness of evening.

Henrik and Britt had finalized their farewells.

They started to row out to the ship minutes before.

It wouldn’t take long, so Pedr had to close his business with Einar in twenty minutes.

Almost impossible.

Pedr cleared his throat and said, “This isn’t going to be easy.”

Einar turned, blinking. “What?”

“What we’re going to do and what we’re going to face. Eventually, the four of us will head to the Westlands. You may have won against His Glory, but we have uglier foes to contend with.”

The former soldat shrugged. “Nothing that’s worth it is easy.” Pedr couldn’t help a grudging respect for his inability to create concern in Einar, who needed some sense of life or death.

“The Siren Queens are the most evil beings I’ve ever known, and their siren song is nothing to underestimate. Not to mention the added complication of the Arcanist of Souls. He might be, for all we know, worse than them.”

Just saying the title sent a shiver through him.

Onskar.

How Pedr loathed him.

Pedr stretched his arms over his head, pushing a wave of arcane into the sea. A gentle surface current would force Henrik to row harder than usual, slowing them and buying him time.

“Why does the Arcanist of Souls frighten you?” Einar asked.

“Because I’m not a fool,” he barked.

Einar shrugged.

“What should we expect with the Wyvern Kings?”

“No idea. I’ve only interacted with them as wyverns,” Pedr continued, his profound irritation multiplying. “They could be just as difficult as the Siren Queens. We may have unleashed an equally horrible enemy.”

On humans and Arcanists alike, he silently added.

Einar thought that over.

Shrugged.

“You know what I want,” he said simply.

Pedr eyed him. “You have absolutely no idea what you’re asking. You want to plunge into the otherworld, find Agnes, and bring her back.”

Einar stared.

Hard.

“In the same way that you thirsted for revenge,” Pedr straightened, releasing the wheel to face Einar more fully, “you’re going to be disappointed. Chasing Agnes into the Arcanist of Soul’s grotto is a recipe for regret.”

“She can return. You said it yourself.”

“She can , but it isn’t the same. She’s been through stuff. So have you. You’re telling yourself lies if you think it’ll be the same, Einar, and you need to know that upfront.”

Einar’s jaw hardened. “It’ll be fine. I’ll figure it out when I arrive, but I will arrive. I’m chasing her. You can’t stop me.”

Pedr rolled his eyes. “I absolutely can stop you. Only an Arcanist can approach an Arcanist, unless that Arcanist, for some reason, decides they want to speak with you. One thing I can promise is this—the Arcanist of Souls is never going to speak with you. Not voluntarily. Not without me. Unless you’ve died, and you’re giving him your final choice,” he added.

Annoyance lined Einar’s calm reply, “I understand.”

You don’t, Pedr silently said. But how could he? Einar dabbled in the human world of grief and the arcane. He had no idea what he put himself up against, and so foolishly, at that. And yet . . . could Pedr hold a candle to it?

Didn’t he do the same for Mila?

Perhaps that’s why he was willing, even reluctantly, to help Einar. To lead him, lamb before slaughter, to his inevitable demise. Einar would see Agnes again, all right.

When he died.

Because there was little chance either of them would survive what lay ahead, yet neither would they back down. Down that path lay cowardice. Also, no Mila. The ethics could remain in question so long as he held her in his arms again.

Pedr said, “The Wyvern Kings know me and my sister. They won’t know you or Henrik, which will either work in our favor or against it. Considering the substantial win you just managed against His Glory, it should help.”

“How?”

“They can smell victory.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Pedr replied flatly. “Don’t question me. As soon as we leave Stenberg, we’ll come up with a more detailed plan, but the goal is basic. Stenberg doesn’t have the resources all of you will need, so we’ll stop by Kapurnick first. After we resupply, we’re going to approach the Siren Queens.”

“Why?”

Pedr’s nose twitched. He trod dangerous ground in answering this very basic and fundamental question.

The answer revealed perhaps a bit too much of Pedr’s personal and internal motivations, which drove nearly all of this.

Sure, they could let the Wyvern Kings and Siren Queens fight this out amongst themselves, but that left Mila in harm's way. No, it signed her death warrant.

Not to mention all the humans it would later impact if the Siren Queens prevailed yet again.

“The Siren Queens have something I want and need.”

“What is it?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” Einar parried.

Shite piece of stinking salts! Why didn’t he let things rest? Britt and Henrik were minutes away. He pulsed the current again.

“I’ll tell you later.”

Einar rolled his eyes, but didn’t fight. He could always jump off the ship, swim far away, and find a way to live with the grief or die for Agnes. Pedr knew that wouldn't happen, because he wouldn’t do that, either.

“If Agnes chose to stay,” Pedr added to swerve topics, “then you have a year from the day of her choice to locate her soul. No one knows when souls decide to stay for their year transition. No one knows when the Arcanist gives them the choice to go to the afterlife or remain for a year, but assume it happened the day she died, just to be safe. For all we know, she’s still waiting for the Arcanist to listen and assign. ”

“I understand.”

“The Arcanist of Souls is the most powerful Arcanist in the world.”

“I know,” he sniped.

Pedr happily sniped back, “You don’t know anything, Einar, and I will continue to say it.

The Arcanist of Souls would eat you with a breath of his power and you wouldn’t even realize it until your soul left your body.

” He softened. “But if you’re willing, so am I.

I’ll take you to the Arcanist of Souls, but it’ll take time and patience.

This requires the Siren Queens to be defeated first. In the course of that, you have to do every single thing that I say. You have to trust me. I have a plan.”

Einar hesitated for a long time, the silence of the rocking sea interrupted only by the approaching splash of oars from not far away. His unwillingness for immediate trust, conversely, made Pedr like him a little more.

“I trust you,” Einar declared. “I’ll do what you say, when you say it, as long as it gets me to Agnes.”

Pedr gripped the wheel.

So it begins.