The Perilous Sea (The Elemental Trilogy #2)

Titus scowled. “Wintervale only received help because he is a second cousin. The other boys of this house are not worth the excellence of my remedies.”


“Then Mrs. Dawlish and I must consider ourselves fortunate. We will keep a close eye on Wintervale.”

Titus glared at her. “And why are you so interested in Wintervale all of a sudden? Are you not here just to report on me?”

Mrs. Hancock was already at the door. She turned around a few degrees. “Oh, is that why I am here, Your Highness?”

And then she was gone, leaving Titus to frown at that unexpected question.



“You don’t suppose he has the African sleeping sickness, do you?” Cooper asked Kashkari.

They were in Wintervale’s room, which had been too full earlier for Cooper and Iolanthe to get in. But now, only Kashkari remained, doing his schoolwork on Wintervale’s crowded desk.

“Mrs. Dawlish asked. The physician said no,” answered Kashkari.

“Well, either way, it’s a magnificent feat of dozing,” said Cooper, leaning over Wintervale.

Awake, Wintervale was on the fidgety side, a boy of tremendous energy who didn’t always know how to get rid of it. Asleep, he seemed calmer and more mature. Iolanthe gazed at him, willing him to be a different person when he woke up, a person to whom she dared entrust the life of the one she loved.

Don’t you dare listen to what he says about his early death. Don’t you dare believe it and leave him behind.

Cooper nudged her. “Shall we to our Greek homework?”

She started. “Right-o. After you.”

They went to her room and opened their books.

“I envy the Greeks,” said Cooper. “They didn’t have to learn Greek—they already knew it.”

“You are right—lucky them,” said Iolanthe. “God, how I hate Greek.”

“But you are good at it.”

“Only because you are terrible at it, so my mediocrity looks good by comparison.”

Cooper tittered. “I know what you mean—you make me look like a decent card player.”

Iolanthe laughed in spite of herself. She was hopeless at nonmage card games.

The prince opened her door and walked in. Her laughter fled. He looked at Cooper, who was predictably awestruck.

She wondered whether Titus was making an extra effort for Cooper these days: he was always more aloof, more majestic whenever Cooper was around.

The thought hurt, as if someone had stuck a needle into her heart.

Without Titus having to say a thing, Cooper had gathered up his books and notes, bid him a rather breathless good-bye, and closed the door after himself.

“Can I help you?” she asked, keeping any inflection out of her voice.

“I need to speak to you.” He set a sound circle. “Mrs. Hancock was asking about Wintervale’s condition, and that made me remember I actually had a diagnostic tool in the laboratory.”

From his pocket he took out something that looked like a mercury thermometer used by nonmages.

A Kno-it-all gauge. “I thought nobody used these anymore.”

“Because they do not offer an instant diagnosis, not because they are inaccurate.” He handed the gauge to Iolanthe. “I checked Wintervale just now.”

Iolanthe held it up to the light. Instead of the tiny lines that marked degrees of Fahrenheit, the gauge had tiny dots with equally tiny words written next to them. As she rotated the triangular glass rod, lenses built into the rod magnified the letters and the readings.

Heart function. Liver function. Bone density. Muscle strength. So on and so forth, dozens and dozens of vital signs and metrics evaluated.

She must have gone past fifty acceptable readings when she came to one that showed red. Gross motor skills. Not surprising, as Wintervale currently could not even get out of bed on his own.

Almost to the end of the long list, another unacceptable reading. Mental stability.

Iolanthe squinted. But no, she had not misread. “Are you sure the gauge is properly calibrated?”

“I tested on myself first. It was fine.”

“But there is nothing wrong with Wintervale’s mental stability.” Wintervale might not possess an extraordinary mind, but he certainly had a sound one.

“That is what I always thought.”

“Maybe he was shocked by what he managed to do.” She certainly couldn’t get it out of her mind. All those powerful currents of water, spinning around that monstrous, ever-deepening eye. The Sea Wolf, so small in comparison, so helpless.

Titus looked away. “His mother is not quite right. Not outright insane, at least not all the time. But you have had dealings with her. You know she can be unreliable.”

Iolanthe had indeed dealt with Lady Wintervale, who had once almost killed her. But then it was also Lady Wintervale who had later saved her—and the prince by extension. “If she is sometimes unbalanced, it is because of her Exile and the death of her husband, not because of anything inborn for Wntervale to inherit.”