Isle of Blood and Stone (Isle of Blood and Stone #1)(14)

Ulises looked away, studying the moon for some time. Then, quietly, “I know what is said about me. That my reign is one born of tragedy. That I am king by default, the prince of mischance. Cursed.”

For the first time, Elias saw a trace of bitterness around his friend’s mouth. “Ulises—”

“And I know you’ve had your fist bloodied more than once in my defense,” Ulises said. “Don’t think I don’t know what a friend you’ve been to me.”

When they were boys, a fellow explorer, Luca, had repeated something about this supposed curse within his hearing. Elias had bloodied his nose and made him take the words back. It wasn’t just Luca. He had not known Ulises was aware of what others said. It made him angry to think of it.

“Who cares what anyone else thinks?”

“I do,” Ulises answered. “I know my skin is supposed to be thick. But I care what my kingdom thinks of me.”

“It’s not your kingdom that thinks these things,” Elias said. “It’s only a few, and they can go to the serpents.”

Ulises looked over with a half smile. “We can’t feed them all to the serpents. But if possible, I would have the truth, one way or the other.” He rubbed his face with both hands. Elias was not the only one who was weary. “How can I look at these maps, see this riddle, and do nothing? They are my brothers.”

Elias felt a tightness in his chest, even as he said, “They are dead.”

“It’s likely,” Ulises acknowledged. “Prove it, and we’ll never speak of it again.”

Elias reached across the table and flicked aside two shells with a fingertip. The map curled into itself. “It’s bound to be a goose chase. You know that?”

“Or a treasure hunt,” Ulises countered, “and you’ve always been good at those.” A lengthy pause. “I meant no insult to you, or to your lord father. That was not my intent.”

Elias nodded, saying nothing. And when that did not feel sufficient, he cleared his throat and offered, “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, in front of others.”

Ulises smiled. As an apology to a king, it was a sad, feeble thing. But to a friend? Well. It was good enough.

Elias returned his smile, the tension easing from his shoulders. A thought occurred to him. “Why did Reyna bring her map to you, and not to her grandfather?”

Ulises thought back. “He wasn’t in Cortes that day,” he said, then surprised Elias by laughing. “You should have seen her. She didn’t send a note asking to speak to me. She gave her name to the steward and waited in the queue with everyone else.”

Elias thought of Reyna purchasing the map with her own coin, and he pictured her sitting quietly in the king’s antechamber along with councilors and scribes and merchants, anyone seeking an audience with the king. The chamber was a daunting place for adults, all booming voices and men constantly speaking over one another. Reyna was only nine. Or ten. Whichever. Sitting in one of those chairs, her feet would not have even touched the ground. The image made him smile.

Glancing at the parchment and the inkpots scattered around the maps, he asked, “What are these?”

Ulises grimaced. “Everything you can imagine. Land disputes in the north. Tax disputes in the east. The head monk on Valdemossa needs funds for a new hospital. And you should see what our emissaries claim they need. You would think we send them off without a single gold squid to support them.”

“You’ll sign all of them?” Elias asked.

“Yes.”

“Why can’t the scribes do it? Or Mercedes? She’s an excellent forger.”

“She’s already offered,” Ulises said. “I’d rather do it myself. I want to know what has my name on it.”

Elias was quiet. They lived by the sea, where the sun shone bright most of the year. Yet Ulises wore the pallor of a full-blooded Mondragan. How much time did he spend trapped in here with his inkpots and his councilors? Elias indicated the stacks of parchment and asked, “You enjoy this? Governing?”

“Most times I do.”

“So did your father,” Elias remembered, “but even he took a day for himself now and again. Del Mar would not collapse if you eased off a bit.”

“An empty day?” Ulises looked baffled by the notion. “I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

“Do what all kings do. Go to your summer palace. Hunt wild pigs. Lie on the beach and have a pretty girl feed you grapes.”

Ulises snorted, and Elias said, “No, I’m serious. In Hellespont, King Ari took his afternoon meal on the beach, every day, and grapes were fed to him.”

“By a pretty girl?”

“By a man.” Elias frowned at the memory. “He looked like me somewhat. It was disconcerting.”

Ulises laughed, a generous, rolling sound that was contagious. “Maybe later.” He looked down at the map, his amusement fading. “Javelin, Elias. Of all places. How will you get in safely? How will you get out?”

Elias had been wondering the same thing, ever since he had spotted the abbess and her faceless wards. And because it was just the two of them, he answered honestly.

“Old friend, I’m damned if I know.”



Elias owned two estates: one in the central mountains, the other on the northeastern coast. But when he was in Cortes, he lived in the castle, on the uppermost level of the Tower of Winds. These chambers had been empty for some time before he’d taken them over four years ago. The last person who’d lived here had been Lord Antoni, before his marriage.