The Perilous Sea (The Elemental Trilogy #2)

“Fortune shield me,” she murmured. “Is all of the wyvern battalion here?”


“The Bane is in the Sahara—where else would the wyvern battalion be?” said Titus, unfolding the carpet that had brought them to the rebel base. “Now, shall we?”



The wyverns hovered in midair, the beating of their wings like thousands of damp bedsheets being shaken out at once. Even without breathing fire, their presence brought a sulfurous odor to the air, one that was fortunately muted by the breathing mask.

The rebels’ carpets also hovered. Iolanthe and Titus sat shoulder to shoulder on their carpet, her hand on his nape.

Titus tapped his wand twice against his palm. The seven diamond-inlaid crowns along the length of the wand began to glow. “Take this and give me yours.”

“But that’s Validus.” She was flustered by his gesture: Validus had once belonged to Titus the Great. Not to mention, it was one of the last of the blade wands, a far more powerful amplifier of a mage’s power than an ordinary wand.

“Yes, I know that—I also know which one of us can take on a greater number of wyverns.” He pressed the priceless wand into her hand. “You will make better use of Validus.”

“The Lord High Commander of the Great Realm of New Atlantis hails His Serene Highness, the Master of the Domain,” the sonorous voice came again. “Atlantis and the Domain currently enjoy a peaceful and mutually beneficial association. Deliver Iolanthe Seabourne into the care of Atlantis and that friendship will continue.”

“Do you not enjoy how it has been phrased?” Titus said softly.

“I would like to. But every time that voice speaks, I rather choke on fear.”

Even the might of Validus in her hand was not sufficient to expel that fear.

“And I grow ever more incensed that anyone still thinks I am going to give you up.” He murmured a spell. When he spoke again, his voice, though not raised in the least, carried for miles. “The Master of the Domain will consider delivering a cubic mile of elephant excrement into the care of Atlantis, but nothing else. And he extends his warmest greetings to the Lord High Commander. Soon may the Lord High Commander depart for the Void, where he is long overdue.”

Iolanthe was thunderstruck: Titus had just told the Bane to go to hell. Angry shouts erupted from the wyvern riders. The rebels, like Iolanthe, were overawed.

The sonorous voice was now both darker and scabbier. “The Master of the Domain is an impetuous child. But the Lord High Commander is willing to overlook the folly of youth for the greater good. Forfeit Iolanthe Seabourne and you may yet keep your throne.”

“The Master of the Domain is no doubt the stupidest boy who ever lived,” replied Titus. “But he prides himself on not being a vile old man who practices sacrificial magic, as the Lord High Commander does.”

Iolanthe might have fallen off the carpet if she hadn’t been strapped in. This time, the Atlanteans were stunned into silence; the rebels cried out in shock.

“Every word the prince says is true,” rose Kashkari’s voice. “I will vouch for it with my life.”

What Iolanthe had come to think of as the voice of Atlantis spoke again, and it sounded like stones grinding together. “Atlantis is ever on the side of peace and friendship. But you have brought war upon yourself, Titus of Elberon.”

Titus’s hand came to rest on Iolanthe’s. He was afraid—his fear pulsed inside her blood. But as she looked upon his profile, she was reminded of the day they met, that fateful conversation by the Thames River. She had thought him impossibly brave then, as if he had been born under the wings of the Angels—now she knew it to be so.

“I’m with you,” she said softly. “Always.”

His hand tightened on hers and he said to the Bane and all his minions, “So be it.”

But he was not done yet. With his voice still audible for miles, he added, “Fortune favors the brave.”

Another moment of utter silence. And then, Iolanthe found herself shouting at the top of her lungs, her voice nearly drowned by the bellow of all the rebels present, “And the brave make their own fortune!”

The rallying cry of the January Uprising, taken up again after all these years.

Tears fell unchecked down Iolanthe’s cheeks. She pulled Titus to her and kissed him hard.

“Forgive me,” he said, between kisses, “for being so wrong about everything this Half.”

“There is nothing to forgive. And you weren’t wrong about my not being the Chosen One, since there is no Chosen One.”

“Still, when I think how close I came to losing you—”

“But you didn’t. I’m here—and I love you. I have always loved you.”

He kissed her again. “And I will love you until the end of the world.”

With a roar a wyvern spewed a bright flame. A hundred more wyverns followed suit. Instantly the air turned hot and acrid. The wyverns swooped down upon the rebels, raining fire.