The Perilous Sea (The Elemental Trilogy #2)

“Morning, Kashkari. Morning, Fairfax,” said Mrs. Dawlish, smiling. “You two are up early.”


“Those lines don’t memorize themselves,” Iolanthe replied, injecting into her voice a brightness she did not feel. “And good morning to you, too, ma’am. Morning, Mrs. Hancock.”

“I heard from the night watchman that Wintervale had to be carried into the house when you came back last night.” Mrs. Dawlish shook her head. “Exactly what wholesome activities were you boys up to at Sutherland’s uncle’s place?”

“Swimming in frigid waters all day and singing hymns around the hearth all evening, ma’am,” said Iolanthe.

“Really?” Mrs. Hancock countered with a raised brow. “Is that so, Kashkari?”

“Close enough.” Kashkari came out into the corridor, in his white tunic and pajama trousers. “But Wintervale didn’t come to us until yesterday afternoon. Something he ate on the journey disagreed with him.”

Mrs. Hancock opened Wintervale’s door, entered, and turned on the gas lamp on the wall. Mrs. Dawlish went in after her. Kashkari and Iolanthe exchanged a glance and followed suit.

Wintervale slept, deeply and peacefully. Mrs. Hancock had to shake him several times before he opened one eye. “You.”

Then he was back asleep.

Mrs. Hancock shook him again. “Wintervale, are you all right?”

Wintervale grunted.

Mrs. Hancock turned to Iolanthe and Kashkari. “That’s an odd kind of abdominal ailment, isn’t it?”

“He was in a bad way last night, puking his guts out,” Kashkari answered. “The prince gave him some medicine prepared by the court physician of the . . . the . . .”

“The principality of Saxe-Limburg,” Mrs. Dawlish said helpfully.

“Right, thank you, ma’am. I imagine the medicine was probably mostly opium and Wintervale is just sleeping it off.”

“And I imagine Herr Doktor von Schnurbin would not be pleased that you are openly discussing the secret ingredients in his most excellent remedies,” came the prince’s voice from the door.

Iolanthe felt asphyxiated. For as long as she remained at Eton, she would have to play the part of Titus’s friend. But now there was no foundation left for their friendship: their shared destiny had been their great bond; without it, she was but a mistake he had made somewhere along the way.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” said Mrs. Dawlish. “I don’t doubt your remedies have done Wintervale a world of good, but he needs to be seen by a physician.”

Iolanthe glanced at Mrs. Hancock. Mrs. Hancock knew who Wintervale was. She probably also knew that Lady Wintervale would never consent to such a thing as his being seen by a nonmage physician. But Mrs. Hancock seemed quite content to let Mrs. Dawlish take charge.

“Better send a cable to his mother, then,” said the prince. “She will dispatch their private physician—the Wintervales are very selective in their choice of doctors. And have one of the charwomen sit with him, in case he needs something.”

Mrs. Dawlish did not take exception to his imperious tone, but she was quite firm in her own response. “That private physician had better come by tomorrow, at the latest. We are responsible for Wintervale’s welfare while he is under our roof and such things cannot wait. Now you boys get ready for early school.”

Mrs. Dawlish and Mrs. Hancock left. Kashkari yawned and returned to his own room.

“Fairfax,” said the prince.

She ignored him, walked past him to her own door, and closed it.

A faint light was beginning to come through the curtain. She grabbed a tin of biscuits and walked to the window. Another day was dawning. A vapor-like fog undulated close to the ground, but the sky was clear, and soon a rising sun would shed a reddish-gold tint upon the tops of the trees.

The same copse of trees from which she had gazed wistfully at the window of this room, just before she had left the prince, because she had wanted nothing to do with his mad ambitions.

She squinted. Were there people in those trees or were her eyes playing a trick on her? She opened the window and leaned out, but now she could see only trunks, branches, and leaves that largely still clung to the memories of summer, with only a few turning yellow and crimson here and there.

When she was small, every October Master Haywood would take her to see the autumn colors in Upper Marin March, where September and October tended to be clear and sunny. They would stay at a lodge on a lake and wake up each day to the splendor of an entire slope of flame and copper foliage reflected in mirror-bright waters.

Master Haywood.

Master Haywood.

She thought of him all the time, of course, but in a wistful way, as astronomers longed for the stars they could not reach. But Master Haywood was not separated from her by the vastness of time and space; he was only hidden away.