The Perilous Sea (The Elemental Trilogy #2)

Rather pat, as a story, but then Iolanthe had always imagined these fictional parents of Fairfax’s to be the sort who were lured to Africa by romantic notions, only to become disillusioned that the agricultural life yielded little romance—or profit, for that matter. With an unexpected windfall, they would gladly take off for parts unknown, for the adventure and thrill Africa had long ago ceased providing.

With her “family” out of the way for the foreseeable future, Iolanthe booked herself a berth on the next Liverpool-bound steamer out of Cape Town. For the next three weeks hope and fear battled for supremacy in her heart. One moment she would be ecstatic at the thought of seeing Titus again, the next minute, overcome by uneasiness. What if he did not come back to Eton? It made more sense, didn’t it, for him to be kept in the Domain and on a much shorter leash?

The closer she was to Eton, the worse the pins and needles became. Reaching Mrs. Dawlish’s and finding no trace of him flooded her with dread. She escaped the commotion of the house by latching on to Cooper, who was leaving to put in orders for tea stuff on High Street.

Cooper chattered happily about the other pupils who had made the twenty-two, especially West, the boy who everyone believed would be the next captain of the school team. Iolanthe heard very little of what he said. She hadn’t traveled nine thousand miles on her own for the game of cricket, no matter how enjoyable.

“Can you believe there are only four months left in 1883?” said Cooper as they neared Mrs. Dawlish’s door again.

“Is it 1883?” Iolanthe swallowed. “I keep forgetting.”

“How can you forget what year it is?” Cooper exclaimed. “I sometimes forget the day of the week, but never the month or the year.”

She gathered up the courage to push open Mrs. Dawlish’s door. In the midst of the parlor, surrounded by junior boys, Titus’s voice carried to her. And suddenly she was ready to win a hundred cricket matches, write a thousand Latin papers, and live among dozens of noisy and sometimes smelly boys for the remainder of her life.

He was back. He was safe. She scarcely knew what she said or did for the next few minutes, until they extricated themselves from the other boys, with the excuse that the prince needed to unpack his things.

The moment the door closed behind them, he kissed her. And went on kissing her until they were both breathless.

“I am so glad you are safe,” he said, his forehead against hers.

She spread her fingers over his shoulders, over the warm, slightly scratchy wool of his daycoat. Beneath her hands, his frame was spare but strong. “I was afraid they wouldn’t let you out of the Domain.”

“How did you get out?”

She touched the top of his collar. His clothes had been laundered with some kind of evergreen essence; the faint fragrance reminded her of the spruce-covered ridges of the Labyrinthine Mountains. “I’ll tell you after you make me a cup of tea.”

The Master of the Domain started to pull away. “I will do it now.”

But she wasn’t ready for him to leave her embrace yet. She caught his face between her hands. When she’d passed through Delamer, she had bought a pendant with his portrait on it. The whole of summer, she’d only had that tiny image for company. But now she could drink him in—the dark hair, slightly longer than she remembered, the straight brows, the deep-set eyes.

She rubbed a finger across his lower lip. His eyes grew dark. He pushed her against the wall and kissed her again.

“So . . . cream or sugar in your tea?” he asked after a few minutes, his breaths uneven.

She smiled and rested her cheek against his shoulder, her breaths as ungoverned as his. “I have missed you.”

“It was a mistake for us to go back to the Domain together. I should have realized that when agents of Atlantis could not locate you here at school, they would come to believe that you must still be in the Domain. I should have known they would watch me relentlessly.”

She laid a hand on the front of his jacket. “It wasn’t your fault. We were both lulled into a false sense of security.”

He took her hand in his. “Of course it was my fault. My task is to keep you safe.”

“But I am not meant to be kept safe,” she said, rubbing the pad of her thumb along the outside of his palm. “I am meant for fearsome risks and epic clashes. Remember? It’s my destiny.”

He leaned back, surprise written over his face. “So you believe it now?”

After all the harrowing and marvelous events of the previous Half, how could she not? “Yes, I do. So don’t apologize for not guarding me every second of the day. I am but walking the path I am meant to—and a little danger here and there serves to keep my reflexes sharp.”

Wonder came into his eyes—wonder and gratitude. He touched his forehead to hers again, his hands warm on her cheeks. “I am so glad it is you. I cannot possibly face this task with anyone else.”