to become a king-consort, he will go through worse.
“This is a trail?” he asks, behind her.
“Yes. You can tell by the lack of trees and bushes on it.”
The rocks are sharp, covered with ice more than not. A slide guarantees a cut elbow or split-open knee. A wrong step could kill. Arsinoe walks as fast as her conscience will allow, but Billy does not complain. Nor does he try to steady her. He is a fast learner.
“Is it true that on the mainland you have no gifts?” she asks.
“Gifts? Oh. You mean magic. Yes. That’s true.”
That is not, in fact, what she meant. And it is not true. Though he may not be aware of it, low magic is alive and well in the rest of the world. Madrigal told her so.
“They say that you did, once,” she says. “And that you lost them.”
“Who is this ‘they,’” he asks. “They’ve been telling you wild tales.”
“That would be a strange thing. Having no gifts. The mainland must be a strange place.”
“Having them is far stranger, trust me. And you should stop calling it that. The ‘mainland.’ There are many lands, you know.”
Arsinoe says nothing. On the island, everything that is not the island is the mainland. That is how it has always been. That is how it will always be for her, who will never have the chance to leave and see any different.
“You’ll see,” Billy says. “Someday.”
“No, I won’t. The queen might.”
“Well, aren’t you a queen? You look like one. Black-as-night hair, striking black eyes.”
“Striking,” Arsinoe mutters under her breath. She smirks. She will not be won over that easily.
They crest the last bit of hill and reach the overlook.
“There,” Arsinoe says, and points. “The most complete view of Wolf Spring on the island. The Sandrins’ house, and the winter market. And your boat, bobbing in the harbor.”
“It’s lovely,” he says, and turns about. “What’s that peak there?”
“That is Mount Horn. I was born at the base of it, in its shadow, in the glen at the Black Cottage. But you can’t see that from here.”
Billy is out of breath. That pleases her. She is only a little too warm for her scarf. When he takes her hand, it is so unexpected that she does not even try to jerk away.
“Thank you,” he says. “For showing me. I’m sure you’ll show me much more, before you are crowned and I am crowned beside you. Or are king-consorts crowned? That part was never exactly clear.”
“You are very stubborn,” she says, and tugs her hand loose. “But you’re not a fool, and neither am I.”
He smiles a begrudging smile that looks very much like Joseph’s. Lopsided and devious. Perhaps he learned it from him.
“All right, all right,” he says. “My God, this is difficult.”
“It will only get worse. Perhaps you should go home.”
“I can’t,” he says.
“Why not?”
“The crown, of course, and everything that comes with it. The trade rights to Fennbirn Island. The prestige. My father wants it all.”
“And you think I can help you get it?”
Billy shrugs. He looks out over the cove thoughtfully.
“Joseph thinks you can. And I hope that’s true. It would make him happy. He won’t like it if you die and I marry another queen.”
Arsinoe frowns. Joseph would not like it. But he would come around. They would all come around. Even Jules.
“This is all so strange,” Billy says. “I boarded a boat in the bay and sailed through some mist, and there was Fennbirn, though it was never there before when I sailed in the same direction. And now here I am, taking part in all this madness.”
“Looking for sympathy?” Arsinoe asks.
“No,” he says. “Never. I know what you’ve got to do is worse. And I like what you did just now. Snatched your hand away. Made me come clean. There are not many girls who would do that, where I come from.”
“There are plenty of them here,” Arsinoe says. “So many you’ll soon tire of us. Just don’t waste your time on me, all right? I am not . . . I am not to be courted.”
“All right,” he says, and shows her his palm. “But we will be neighbors, for some time. So perhaps you will shake my hand and guide me carefully back down this treacherous path?”
Arsinoe smiles and shakes Billy’s hand. She likes him better already, now that they understand each other.
“What do you think they’re doing now?” Jules asks as she stirs the fire.
“I think everything is going according to plan,”