I remain yours,
Latch
She was beginning to wish she’d waited in Fork Town after all. But “pen friends” almost certainly referred to the Pendarkans, and there were plenty of them in Fork Town. Latch certainly hadn’t warned her of the trouble she’d found there.
She read the final line again. Brelling’s East Isles journal. No such book existed. She had confirmed as much with Piersha’s daughter at the Royal Archives, a vast, echoing tower full of rolled manuscripts, bound books, and fluted columns. The young woman, whose name was Quell, had refused to disclose what Latch read on his last visit and begged Selivia not to tell her mother they had spoken.
Selivia looked up from the letter. “He has to mean he was going to the East Isles, don’t you think?”
“As I said the last twenty times you suggested that,” Fenn said patiently, “Brelling wrote many travelogues, including several featuring islands. Lord Latch probably got confused.”
“But he loves Brelling. He wouldn’t make that kind of mistake.”
“We cannot go gallivanting off to the East Isles, Princess.”
“It’s supposed to be lovely this time of year.” Selivia pulled open a carved window screen to look toward the distant islands. The storm clouds that often hung over them had spread toward the city, and the scent of rain hung in the air. “Anyway, where else are we going to look? He’s obviously not in Sharoth.”
“Even if he did travel to the East Isles, there are a dozen of them. We wouldn’t know where to search.” Fenn sat at the table and took out Brelling’s Soolen journal, which had traveled all the way from Vertigon in Selivia’s satchel. The water-damaged pages crinkled as she opened it. “And he would have left word if he wanted you to join him.”
“Maybe he thought he’d be back by now. If he’s in trouble—”
“He is a Waterworker,” Fenn said, still perusing the book. “I don’t know what trouble he could be in that you could save him from.”
Selivia slumped dejectedly onto the low turquoise couch. She wished she could Wield the magical substances. She had communicated using the Air before but only when an Air Sensor drew on the substance and created the link for her. She would never touch magic the way Latch and Dara did. She normally got by on charm and pure enthusiasm, but even those were no match for the Soolens when they wanted to keep something hidden.
A knock sounded on the door.
Fenn was up in a flash with her sword bared. Selivia blinked. Her bodyguard was more worried about their safety than her placidity suggested. The realization made uneasiness worm through her stomach.
Fenn waved for Selivia to remain seated. “Who is it?” she called through the door.
“I wish to speak with Princess Selivia,” came a haughty male voice.
“Your name?”
“I don’t have to give my name in my own palace.”
Fenn grimaced and put her hand on the door. “I will send him away if you wish it.”
Selivia sighed, tucking her well-worn letter back in her belt. “Sending him away didn’t work so well last time.”
Only one person in the palace ever sought her out, and she wished he would leave her alone. He’d accosted her at every opportunity since learning she was in Sharoth.
“I understand you play the harp, Princess. Won’t you play for me?”
“You look stunning in those breeches, Princess.”
“If Latch doesn’t return soon, I may steal you away myself, Princess.”
“I hear you love animals, Princess. Would you like to come with me on an expedition to hunt bullshells?”
Her suitor was none other than Chadrech, the Crown Prince of Soole and Queen Rochelle’s only son. Selivia had already disliked him after their limited interactions when they were young, but Chadrech’s suggestion that they go bullshell hunting was enough to make her hate him.
The knock came again, more insistent this time.
“Let him in, Fenn.”
Fenn muttered what sounded suspiciously like a curse of her own and opened the door.
Prince Chadrech sauntered past her into the room. He had a thin face, which he thought far handsomer than it was, and a lean build, like the straw men farmers used to scare away furlingbirds.
“Princess,” he crooned, strolling over to where she sat on the low couch. “You are far too pretty to be inside on a day like today.”
“I’ve just returned to my room,” she said. “And it looks like it’s going to rain.”
“Visiting that great beast of yours, were you?” Chadrech said. “He ought to be muzzled, if you ask me.”
Selivia stood so he couldn’t loom over her. “Did you want something, Prince Chadrech?”
“Only you, dearest.”
“I’ve asked you not to call me that,” she said as aggressively as she dared. “I am betrothed to—”
“To a man who doesn’t appreciate what an exquisite treasure you are. I would never have left you waiting.” Chadrech seized a lock of her hair and twirled it between his fingers. “In fact, I’d have completed our marriage the very day you turned eighteen. Sooner, if the law allowed it.”
“Charming.” Selivia tugged her hair out of his grasp and retreated to the balcony. It was hot outside despite the storm building in the distance, and sweat broke out on her forehead. The sea rolled below the city, but they were too far up to feel more than a hint of the ocean breeze. “I’m very tired. The heat takes it out of me here. So if you wouldn’t mind—”
“Don’t be like that, darling,” Chadrech said, following her to the balcony. He leaned in the doorway, blocking her access to the room.
“I really must rest, Your Excellency,” Selivia said through gritted teeth. Chadrech’s position kept her pinned on the balcony and made her feel claustrophobic, despite the broad sea view spreading behind her. “If you’d be so kind as to—”
“Leave us,” Chadrech barked.
He was talking to Fenn, who had followed him toward the balcony and was now looming behind him with a glower on her normally placid face.
“Did you hear me?” the prince said.
Fenn ignored the question. Her strong hands twitched nearer to her sword hilt.
“Your Excellency,” Selivia said quickly. “It isn’t appropriate for—”
“You’re in my city, dearest. I decide what’s appropriate.” Chadrech wiggled his fingers at Fenn. “Out, before I summon my guards to remove you.”
Fenn kept her feet planted, her eyes on the prince.
Before her bodyguard could do something drastic, Selivia shoved past Chadrech’s elbow and put herself between the two. The prince could have Fenn beaten or worse, but he wouldn’t dare strike the Princess of Vertigon.
For a moment, Chadrech’s jaw tensed, as if he meant to do exactly that. Then he spread his hands placatingly. “I only wish to talk. You needn’t worry about your virtue.”
Selivia folded her arms. “Anything you say to me, you can say in front of Fenn.”
Chadrech shrugged and strolled over to the table. Selivia sagged in relief. She had spent so much time flying free with the dragons that she had forgotten what it was like to feel cornered.