Three Dark Crowns (Three Dark Crowns #1) - Kendare Blake Page 0,48
enough for the two of us, and your cougar.”
“Someday soon,” she agrees. But for now, she is glad of the cramped quarters, and the lack of privacy. As much as she loves Joseph, she is not ready to go further. With Camden hindering their movements, she can kiss Joseph for as long as she likes without feeling they ought to do more.
Joseph lowers his head and kisses Jules’s collarbone, where it peeks through her disheveled shirt. He rests his chin against her and sighs.
“What is it?” she asks. “Your mind is on something else today.”
“My mind is only on you,” he says. “But there is something.”
“What?”
“Do you remember that boat in our western slip?” he asks. “The shiny little daysailer with the new deck and fresh stripe of blue paint?”
“Not really.”
The Sandrins’ shipyard has been full of jobs like that for months. Vanity repairs, from all along the coast. Mainlanders will arrive on the island soon, and the island wishes to show a fresh face. They have even had jobs from the fishers of Wolf Spring, who say the word “mainlander” through curled, disdainful lips. They may speak of mainlanders and spit, but they will use that spit to shine their own shoes.
“What about it?” she asks.
“I’m to sail it up to Trignor to return it to its owner. I leave as soon as my mother and Jonah return from Highgate.”
“Oh,” Jules says. “Why does that trouble you?”
Joseph smiles. “It will sound foolish to say so out loud, but I don’t want to be parted from you, even for a short time.”
“Joseph.” Jules laughs. “We have been together almost every moment since you’ve returned.”
“I know,” he says. “And I will not be gone long. If the winds are good, I can reach Trignor by nightfall. It should not take more than a few days at most, to catch the coaches back to Wolf Spring. Still”—he pulls himself farther on top of her—“perhaps you could come with me?”
Traveling on a small craft with Camden and long days of rumbling coaches does not sound pleasant, but being with Joseph would make it so. She slips her arms around his neck and hears Arsinoe’s voice: Jules and Joseph, inseparable since birth.
“I can’t,” says Jules. “I have neglected Arsinoe enough already. She’s had to work on her gift with my mother, and I can’t ask her to take on any more of my chores. She’s a queen.”
“The best queens don’t mind extra chores.”
“Still,” Jules says. “I shouldn’t leave her here. And you should not ask me to. You love her too, remember. As much as you love me.”
“Nearly as much, Jules,” he says. “Only nearly.”
He drops his head to rest against her shoulder.
“We will not be parted for long, Joseph. Don’t worry.”
ROLANTH
The dream is a bad one. Mirabella wakes to the sound of her own cry. It is a sudden waking; the edges of the dream blur into the familiar air of her bedroom, her body trapped half inside each consciousness and her legs tangled in damp sheets. She sits up and touches her face. In the dream, she had been crying. Crying and laughing.
Her door clicks open softly, and Elizabeth pokes her head in. She has taken over much of Mirabella’s personal escort, and Mirabella exhales, relieved that it is her outside her door tonight.
“Are you all right?” Elizabeth asks. “I heard you shouting.”
Pepper the woodpecker flies from her shoulder and flits around the queen from hip to head, making sure she is safe.
“I heard it too,” Bree says. She pushes the door wider, and both girls go inside and close it tight behind them. Mirabella tugs her knees up to her chest, and Bree and Elizabeth climb onto the bed. Bree flicks her wrist and lights the candles on the dresser.
“I am sorry,” says Mirabella. “Do you think I woke anyone else?”
Bree shakes her head. “Uncle Miles could sleep through the battle of Bardon Harbor.”
Sara’s and young Nico’s rooms are too far away. So is the servants’ quarter on the first floor. It is only the three of them, one wakeful spot in a darkened house.
“Mira,” Bree says, “you are trembling.”
“I’ll get some water,” says Elizabeth, and Pepper lands beside the pitcher and chirps to guide the way.
“No,” Mirabella says. “No water.”
She stands up to pace. The dreams of her sisters cling to her, sometimes for days. They do not fade like other dreams do.
“What was it?” Bree asks.
Mirabella closes her eyes. This one was not a memory but a series of