Isle of Blood and Stone (Isle of Blood and Stone #1)(9)

Ulises opened his mouth, then shut it. Elias stared at his friend, infuriated, then swung around to glare at Mercedes. “You found this on Lunes, you said?”

Her hands were folded on the table. She was pale and set, but she met his eyes squarely. “Yes.”

“What did Lamech say when you asked for the map?”

“I did not ask for it,” Mercedes said.

“The king offered it to you?” Elias asked with a skeptical air. The king of Lunes was a stingy old miser. He would not hand over anything valuable without expecting something in return.

“I’m certain he would have, had I asked.”

Her meaning became clear. Incredulous, Elias said, “You stole this map? From the royal map chambers on Lunes?”

Mercedes glanced at Reyna. The child’s eyes were as large as twin moons. Likely this was the first time she was hearing of Mercedes’s more colorful diplomatic responsibilities. “What would you have had me do?” Mercedes countered. “I couldn’t have anyone wondering at my interest. The last thing I wanted was for someone else to take a closer look.”

“How did you—?” Elias stopped. He didn’t want to know how she had stolen the map. Turning back to Ulises, he said, “This is ridiculous. How can you give this credence?”

“How can I not?” Ulises snapped. “Two princes lost but not gone? These are not strangers in a fairy story, Elias. They are my brothers!” Ulises rose, facing him across the table. A pulse beat at his temple. “Lord Antoni’s skill is not something that can be copied, as simple as that. Look at them. This is the work of a master. Are they not worthy of a look, at least?”

“No.” Elias grabbed his carrier. Better that he go before he really said something he shouldn’t. The Hellespontian sketches were left scattered about the table.

“These were painted years apart,” Ulises continued, urgent. “And they’ve turned up on opposite sides of an entire sea.”

“A coincidence.”

“Two coincidences?” Ulises shot back, gesturing toward the maps. “There may be more. Why would someone go to this much trouble?”

“Because he is mad!” Elias’s voice rose. “Because he is cruel. Or bored. There are a thousand, thousand reasons why. Have you not considered them?” Bitterly, he added, “Was this ambush simpler? Old friend?”

A slow flush crawled up Ulises’s neck. Good.

“Sit down, Elias. Listen to me. I am your friend—”

“My king,” Lord Silva broke in. He, too, was on his feet. “Elias. Please . . .”

Elias paid him no attention. “And this is how you show it?” he demanded of Ulises. “By besmirching my father’s name? By bringing fresh grief to his widow—” Another shock coursed through him as he thought of his mother.

Mercedes spoke quickly, “She won’t learn of it. No one knows of the maps except us.”

He glared at her. Hurt unfurled in him. He let her see it. She had known of this all along, at the harbor. She could have given him some warning. He asked, “What about the man who sold Reyna the map?”

“He’s gone,” Mercedes said, frowning. “Sailed off. What of him?”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t return, or speak of it,” Elias said. “What about Commander Aimon?”

Her hands were no longer folded before her. They were fists. “That is unworthy of you. You know he can be trusted.”

Elias’s laugh held little humor. “A secret is safe, Mercedes, when one person knows it. Not seven, or more. You of all people should know that.” He turned his anger back to Ulises. “Did you spare a thought to what this will do to my family?” He jabbed at one of the maps. “Even a whisper of it?”

“Listen to me,” Ulises said. “I mean no insult—”

“I am insulted!” Elias slapped both palms flat against the table, hard enough to rattle the seashells.

Their raised voices had not gone unnoticed. The doors swung open, and two guards stuck their heads in.

“Out.” The order came from Ulises. That, and the cold look he shot their way, had the men stumbling over themselves as they backed away. The doors slammed shut.

It was only then that Elias became aware of Reyna huddled in her chair and Lord Silva’s lips pressed thin. A child. His teacher. A spark of shame ignited within him. He forced his breath to slow, and tried to pull his anger back inside of him.

“My father,” he said quietly, “was a lord of del Mar. A man who served his king and kingdom and died for it. I am insulted.” He slung the carrier over his head and stalked out of the chamber, leaving behind a thick and muffling silence.





Three





LIAS HAD BEEN only an infant when it happened, but he knew the tale as well as any, and better than most. Eighteen years ago, on the island of St. John del Mar, two princes vanished, never to be seen again.

Prince Bartolome and Prince Teodor, ages seven and five, had traveled outside the city in the company of Lord Antoni. As Royal Navigator, Antoni oversaw del Mar’s School of Navigation, along with its considerable network of explorers, mapmakers, instrument makers, and pilots. Bartolome had developed a fascination with the navigator’s arts, and anyone looking for the prince knew to look for Antoni, for he had become the man’s shadow. The outing was meant to show the princes the magnetic compass rocks that could be found on a hill near Javelin Forest. Accompanying them were their nurse, Lady Esma; servants; and two dozen of the king’s finest guards. In the end, their strength and numbers mattered not.