The Perilous Sea (The Elemental Trilogy #2)

Iolanthe had expected Wintervale to return the next day. When two days had passed with no sign of Wintervale, she had become worried. But Titus had told her that it wasn’t unusual for Wintervale to be gone as long as a week, if his mother needed him.

“He should come back soon, shouldn’t he?” asked Kashkari with a slight frown.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned up here tomorrow. You know Wintervale, he wouldn’t miss this if he could help it,” said Sutherland. “But back to us, gentlemen. What say you we go down to the beach, build a fire, and tell ghost stories when it’s dark?”

Cooper all but squealed. “I love ghost stories!”

Titus glanced at him. He always looked at Cooper as if the latter were a cocker spaniel that somehow managed to speak in a human tongue. But these days Iolanthe rather fancied that Titus was beginning to betray a slight fondness for the boy.

But when he spoke, he was again the grand prince who could not be bothered with lesser mortals. “Commoners and their enthusiasm,” he said. “Where is the cognac I have been promised?”



The day was growing late when they started for the beach. The breeze from the sea had become loud and stiff. Gulls wheeled overhead, seeking one last bite of supper while light still lingered.

Iolanthe shook her head as she helped gather driftwood: the great elemental mage of their time, not allowed to snap her fingers and summon a roaring fire out of thin air. By the time they had a fire going and sausages dripping fat into the flames, it had become quite dark, the stars tiny pinpricks against the inky sky.

The ghost stories started with Cooper’s visit to a haunted house, followed by Sutherland’s uncle’s experience at a particularly hair-raising séance, and Kashkari’s tale of a spirit who kept visiting his great-grandfather, until the latter rebuilt a house that had been burned down by Diwali fireworks. Iolanthe contributed a story she had read in the papers. Titus, surprising her—and probably everyone else around the fire—narrated a chilling tale of a necromancer who raised an army of the dead.

When all the ghost stories had been told and all the sausages they’d carried down roasted and eaten, Sutherland produced another bottle of cognac to share. Iolanthe and the prince touched the bottle to their lips without actually imbibing—anything that had a strong taste of its own could disguise the addition of truth serum or other dangerous potions. Everyone else drank with varying degrees of purpose and dedication. Kashkari, in particular, astounded Iolanthe by taking liberal swallows—she would have thought that he drank sparingly, if at all.

A small silence fell—and stayed. The boys stared into the fire. Iolanthe studied the interplay of light and shadows upon their features, especially Kashkari’s. Titus, too, watched Kashkari.

Something was not quite right with him.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” said Cooper out of the blue. “My father is counting the days until I can join his firm of solicitors. And I don’t think I can ever tell him that I haven’t the slightest interest in the law.”

Iolanthe was taken aback by the sudden turn in the conversation. “So what do you want to do?”

“That’s just the thing. I haven’t the slightest idea. Can hardly go up to the old man and say, ‘Sorry, Pater, don’t know what I like, but I do know I hate what you do.’ ” He grabbed the bottle from Sutherland. “At least you don’t have to undertake a profession, Sutherland. You have an earldom waiting for you.”

Sutherland snorted. “Have you seen the earldom? The manor is falling down on itself. I’ll have to marry the first heiress who will have me and we’ll probably hate each other for the next fifty years.”

Now everyone looked expectantly at Iolanthe. She was beginning to understand: spirits were the truth serum of the nonmages—except they partook it willingly and shared under its influence what they could not bring themselves to say completely sober.

“I might not be at school much longer. My parents have decided that after their world tour, they will buy a ranch in the American West—Wyoming Territory, to be specific. And I have a sinking feeling they will want me to go out and help them with it.”

It was the story she and Titus had decided upon, to explain her likely hasty departure from school one of those days.

“Not much longer for me, either,” said Titus. “I have enemies at home and they have their eyes on my throne.”

This caused a collective intake of breath, the loudest from Cooper, naturally.

“There won’t be a coup, will there?” he asked, his voice unsteady.

“Who knows?” Titus shrugged. “There is all kinds of intrigue going on behind my back. But you do not need to worry, Cooper. What is mine, I keep.”