Page 27 of The Isles of the Gods
“What’s he like?”
I don’t particularly want to answer the question. This girl—Selly—is refreshingly blunt, and I don’t want to lie to her face. I also don’t want to say anything I’ll regret later. “Prince Leander enjoys life,” I say eventually. “And worries very little about anything.”
“Huh.” She drops the screwdriver back into the bucket and twists the lid onto the jar of goo. “That why he’s running late for his sacrifice? He was too busy having fun?”
Again I say nothing, and she growls in the back of her throat.
“Well, he’s cost you your trip to the Bibliotek, and he’s cost me plenty as well. I guess I should hope he’s not so late he costs a lot of people much more than that. Thanks for the lesson, Scholar.”
I open my mouth to correct her, to give her my name, then close it again. “You’re welcome.”
She nods, hefting her bucket. “Let me know if you get any more water in through that porthole.”
I stay on the bunk as she leaves, and it’s only when the door closes behind her with a thump that I realize my hand is still resting on Tajan’sMythos and Temples.I fumble as I flip it open, and leaf through the pages in search of an interesting chapter to calm my thoughts.
I’d much rather study history than find myself a part of it.
LEANDER
TheLizabetta
The Crescent Sea
It turns out bunks on ships are narrower than you’d expect. I nearly fell out of mine a couple of times overnight, when I forgot where I was and tried to turn over, then had to scramble to safety, tangled up in my covers.
I can make almost anything look good, but it’s probably not a bad thing the other bunk wasn’t occupied.At least try to avoid witnesses,my sisters always tell me, exchanging a look, and sighing.
Someone packed a gold-threaded blanket in my luggage, and I scoffed at it when I was hunting through my trunk to see what was in there, then ate my words and cuddled up underneath it when I got a look at the quilt I was supposed to use.
Now, though, morning’s here, and there’s a glow around the edges of the porthole’s shutter.
Oh, and someone’s knocking on the door. That must be what woke me.
“Come in,” I call, sitting up in bed, running one hand through my hair, then giving up as I feel it stand up in every direction. Whatever. I’m charming, I can make it work.
The door opens, and the girl from yesterday lets herself in with a tray and a wary expression. Then her gaze drops to my chest, and I realize a moment after she does that I’m not wearing a shirt.
The next ten seconds are chaos.
Her eyes widen, and an instant later she’s juggling the breakfast tray. I start to move, ready to throw aside the blanket to help her, and then Ialsorealize I’m not wearing a whole lot underneath the blanket. She guesses the same thing around the same time and yelps a “Don’t you dare!”
I’m stuck under the blanket, praying she’ll recover in time to save my meal, and we both breathe a sigh of relief when she dumps the tray on top of my legs.
“There, food,” she mutters, already retreating toward the door.
“It’s not the first time I’ve caused carnage by taking off my shirt,” I reassure her. “There was this one time in— Actually, I’m not sure that’s helpful.”
She shoots me a look informing me my very existence isn’t helpful and closes the door firmly behind her, leaving me with a very respectable, if simple, breakfast of eggs, sausages, buttered toast, and fruit.
That’s the second time I’ve failed to make a good impression on her. Strange. I’m starting to wonder if she means it.
I turn my attention to my meal. Usually my own chefs take over when we’re somewhere other than the palace, but though the decorative arrangements are missing, and someone’s cutthe apple into serviceable chunks instead of a flower shape or something, it’s come together pretty well.
I decide, after brief consideration, not to call her back and ask about orange juice.
—
Half an hour later I’m fed, dressed, and ready to explore my new kingdom. I sling my satchel over my shoulder, feeling slightly foolish about it, but with my sister Augusta’s voice in my ears:Don’t let it out of your sight.
