The Perilous Sea (The Elemental Trilogy #2)

“But I thought this wyvern didn’t come from around here. I thought it had to be transported in from central Asia. Besides, we haven’t had it for twenty-four hours yet. Twelve hours barely.”


“The Atlanteans may have left an aerosolized trail of its particular homing elixir, to lead it—and us—in the direction of the nearest base.”

“We have to get off, then. Take it down!”

He swore again. “It is refusing to follow directions—and we are half a mile up.”

She swallowed. “Can you blind vault us to the ground?”

“It is still too soon for you to vault. I cannot take that chance.”

She used a far-seeing spell. “But there are armored chariots ahead!”

“I can see that! And I do not want to hear you get all martyrish and tell me to vault off alone—I have not dragged you this far to hand you to Atlantis.”

She could scarcely breathe. “Then what do we do?”

“We will jump.”

“What?”

He was already unbuckling her harness.

“If you can produce enough of an air current to hold a hard-flying sand wyvern in place, then you can produce one to break our fall.”

He came to his feet and pulled her to hers. She was barely able to stand with the force of the wind rushing past.

“What if I don’t produce that air current?”

“You will.” He took her hand in his, his tone brooking no dissent. “Now on the count of three. One. Two. Three.”



They fell, accelerating toward the ground at thirty-two feet per second squared.

The free fall seemed to push Titus’s heart and lungs upward, compressing them into half their size against the top of his ribcage. The air roaring past made his eyes water, but he dared not close them.

Where was the air current that would save them?

“Do something!” he shouted.

“Shut up! I’m trying!”

They bumped into little pockets of air that did nothing to decelerate their plunge, but made them flip and tumble. The starry night and the dark desert chased across his vision as he spun in every which direction.

The ground rose toward them at terrifying speeds. They screamed.

And kept on screaming.





CHAPTER 26


England

AT HER DESK IN THE reading room, Iolanthe stared at the image of a young Commander Rainstone, looking dashing as a pirate wench, a cutlass in hand. The picture was from a different article Iolanthe had found about the Argonin tricentennial fancy-dress ball, evidence that Commander Rainstone had indeed been part of the duo that attended as the visualization the Argonin quote Oysters give pearls, but only if you are armed with a knife and willing to use it.

It was easier to dig up information about Commander Rainstone’s youth than to find out about her in the present. The current her made no news and stirred no controversies. She never married or had children—at least none on record. And she lived a simple life outside of her work, preferring quiet evenings spent at home to the glamorous social life of the Citadel.

That she lived alone could be a result of her already having a secret life. That secret life was also made easier by the fact that she had no family. And the signs had always pointed to the memory keeper being well-placed in life and close to the center of power, which certainly could be said about Commander Rainstone.

“Show me everything that has Penelope Rainstone and either Baron or Lady Wintervale,” Iolanthe asked the help desk.

On the day she had revealed her powers, Master Haywood had put her into a portal trunk. She had been transported to its twin, located in the attic of the Wintervales’ residence in Exile, in a fashionable part of London. Which meant there must be some connection between Commander Rainstone and the Wintervales.

And which was confirmed by an image of Commander Rainstone standing next to Baron Wintervale, who had been the one to give her the distinguished graduate award she had received at the end of her studies at the Titus the Great Center of Martial Learning.

Iolanthe rubbed her temples. All the pieces she found were useful, of course. But none of them took her anyplace definite.

“No progress?” said the prince from across the table. He had been helping her with her search for the past hour, once he returned from his mysterious purpose in France.

She blew out a breath. “It’s so hard to find . . .” She trailed off. The light of excitement on his face—he had unearthed something useful. “What do you have?”

“The second time my mother saw a vision about me, standing on the balcony, she mentioned someone named Eirene, who lost her trust by reading her diary without her permission.”

Iolanthe had a very vague recollection of it. She had not read those visions under optimal conditions.

“I just asked the help desk for anything that mentioned both Commander Rainstone and Eirene,” Titus went on. “And this is what I found.”

“This” was a different interview young Penelope Rainstone gave, also around the time of her being named an outstanding graduate from the officers’ school, but to the student newspaper of her old academy, located in a less affluent area of Delamer.

Titus pointed at a specific paragraph.