Page 45 of The Queens and the Kings
“You can try.”
“How hard is it?”
“You’ll probably die.”
Something flashed in Einar’s eyes. Desperation. Lack of caring. A combination of all of them. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’d rather be with her, anyway.”
“At least you have options for a blaze of glory before you go. Certainly, this buys you a chance to revenge yourself against His Glory before you find Agnes, or die trying. Either way, a win for you.”
A battle warred within Einar. Agony and curiosity. Uncertainty. They swirled in wild storms until he slowly said, “If what you say is true, I’ll do it. Icando it. I . . . “ His voice broke. “I’ll let her go.”
“I can give you a chance to find her soul. I won’t promise anything else.”
Fierce again, burning with hope, Einar nodded once. “Then I’ll release her. I’m . . . I’ll do it.”
Henrik stepped forward, gently grasping Agnes’s legs. “I’m with you, brother.”
Relieved, Pedr slipped back.
Together, they sent Agnes into the sea. The moment she slid into the water, a burst of sunshine broke the horizon. Light illuminated the sky as her body sank below. Einar dropped to his knees, palms pressed into the hard-scrubbed wooden plank. He hung his head, panting.
As he hummed, Pedr tapped with the top of his right toes, then his left. He spun once, brought his hands together, and swirled them in a backward circle. Light and mist swirled through his hands, creating a haze. Sliding on a gust of wind, it hovered around Einar’s heaving form, gliding into his nostrils and mouth. Einar’s clenched muscles eased. He slumped onto the deck, eyes closed.
As Einar fell into his first hint of sleep since Agnes died, Henrik’s silent nod of thanks went unacknowledged. Pedr’s long stride already carried him across the deck, toward his berth. He vanished inside without a sound to accompany him.
The door slammed shut.
Chapter Fifteen
HENRIK
The ship remindedHenrik of a heart. Swishing rhythms, up and down, steady pulses. If he sought the catharsis of the sea, he didn’t hear the profound quiet, nor see Britt’s haunted eyes. A call overhead drew him out of sleep.
“Land-elbastids!”
Pedr.
Did he eversleep? Doubtful.
Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, Henrik sat up. His berth, muted with light from a porthole window, revealed burgeoning daylight. Thanks to Pedr’s arcane touch a second time, Einar sprawled in a hammock, breathing steady and deep through the day and the night.
Henrik slipped out, avoiding the protesting floor, and made his way out of the narrow hall and up the ladder. Cooler air and brisk winds roused him. Pedr stood at the wheel, as always, glaring at a black storm scar that slashed the western horizon.
Pensive and moody, Pedr didn’t say a word for several minutes. Henrik waited him out. It was always best to wait Pedr out.
“We’ll be in Klipporno Bay within an hour,” Pedr said.
“An hour?”
“I didn’t stutter.”
Agnes died two days ago. They were right on schedule, catastrophe notwithstanding. Pedr said, “I have a suggestion for you when you arrive on the mainland.”
Henrik cast him a sidelong glance. Pedr had never offered unsolicited advice before, so he braced himself. “I’m listening.”
“Don’t get caught up in the lust for revenge against His Glory—who may or may not be guilty of something nefarious with that powder—while dealing with the Ladylord. You’d be hard pressed to find another human as powerful as her. You might be ready to kill His Glory to avenge Agnes, which I support. But don’t be a fool, and don’t let Einar be one. If he goes,” he added.
“I plan to encourage him staying, if he wakes up before.”
