Page 52 of The Queens and the Kings
Considering he’d made a promise, however . . .
Pedr met Einar’s glower head on. “Yes. I’m cursing under my breath because that idiot ruler of Stenberg possessed a powder onboard his best frigate that suppressed my arcane, which shouldn’t be possible. The only Arcanist who could explain the powder is the Arcanist of Land, and I don’t want to speak with him.”
Einar drew up, frowning.
“You’re serious?”
Pedr glared.
“You aren’t lying to me?” Einar paced closer. “You really meant what you said before Agnes—did you? You’re an Arcanist. They’re real. I have a chance to save her soul?”
“I never lie,” Pedr ground out, “and it would be unwise to imply that I do.”
Einar ignored his wrath. Pedr needed to work on his ferocity. Time had a way of wearing down his ire, and he couldn’t scare anyone if he was tired.
“You’re the Arcanist of the Sea?”
“I’m certainly not Norr,” Pedr retorted.
“Who are you? Really?”
Pedr spread his hands, bowed. “Arcanist of the Sea, as you say. It’s a pleasure. Now get out of my way. I need to summon the Arcanist of the Land and you need to go below decks. He won’t come if you’re gawking at him and I’m not going to waste my time.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, I will. Eventually. But please answer my questions first.”
Einar’s slightly-less-arrogant reply eased some of Pedr’s rage. Pedr’s lightning-quick irritation flared so unexpectedly it took him by surprise. The purity of Einar’s desperation as he pleaded, “Tell me about the Arcanist of Souls,” cut right to a heart Pedr didn’t know existed.
Well, shite.
Pedr’s upper lip rose as he said, “There’s not a lot to say. The Arcanist of Souls is a bastid. A real piece of work. The most powerful Arcanist in Elestra. Wields arcane around souls. He can bond and bind and control the dead. Ever heard of a soullock? It binds your soul to your body, immobilizing both. You’re stuck, can’t do anything, and die. Probably not, you sheltered piece of shite.”
Einar ignored Pedr’s escalating irritation. “You mentioned that another Arcanist could find him and strike a deal.”
Pedr scoffed. “I said we couldtry. There’s a world of difference between the two.”
“What does that mean?”
“Are you thick? It means that finding Agnes through the Arcanist of Souls is a fraught hope with a flame’s chance in the sea. There’s no guarantee. As I mentioned, you’re more likely to die than to succeed.”
“I don’t care.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Can you even die?”
“He’s the most powerful Arcanist in the world. He’s not someone you can stroll up to and make friends with.” Pedr gestured to his ship. “He thinks I’m a joke, prowling around the ocean on a ship driven by the arcane. He certainly wouldn’t doyouany favors.”
Einar shrugged. “That’s fine. I have to try.”
“Is it fine? Some of usdon’tdie, you bastid, and I’d rather not endure the torture of another four hundred and eighty something years with that fool making my life a living hell each day.”
Einar dismissed that, too. “Tell me what to do. What’s next? How do we get there?”
Movement out of the corner of Pedr’s eye caught his attention. He glanced to the left. A distant wyvern flew wide circles over the eastern bay. It flew west, circled back. Unease rose inside him like drifting jellyfish.
