“You’re all right then, Zera?” Fione’s frown crumples her heart-shaped face.

“Right as rain, Your Grace.” I tap my cheek. “You can kiss me too, if you want.”

Her expression lightens minutely. “No, thank you. I’m saving them for someone.”

It goes unsaid, but it makes both of us smile. Varia. The Varia we’ll get back when we translate the book. The Varia who’s this much closer now that I’ve returned and given the Black Archives what they want.

Fione turns to Yorl, then, and puts on her best Vetrisian smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last. I’ve heard much of you from Varia, and more from Zera. Both of them seemed to insist we’d get along.”

“I have likewise heard of you.” Yorl nods at her.

“Show ’im the white mercury dagger, Fi,” I urge.

Yorl’s eyebrows instantly shoot up. “A white mercury weapon—it can’t be.”

Fione, shier than I’ve seen her in months, pulls the dagger out and unsheathes it before Yorl. He leans in eagerly, whiskers twitching.

“It took a little reconfiguring of the mathematics,” she admits sheepishly. “My uncle thought it was the metal’s ratio to the mercury from which the common base had to be built, but in actuality, it was the gradual introduction of the ore compound through acid—”

“Through acidic methods,” Yorl finishes for her, and as he looks up at her from the dagger, his eyes widen. “How did you realize that?”

“I had help,” she assures him, a blush on her cheeks from all the attention.

“From whom? Who else would know? The smithing methods have never been recorded. Which means…you discovered it on your own. You’re—” He pauses. “You’re incredible.”

“Oh.” Fione makes a high, wavering laugh. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far—”

I lean in and elbow her with a wicked grin. “I’ve never once heard him use the word ‘incredible.’ I didn’t even think compliments were in his dictionary. Live it up.”

Fione pauses, Yorl’s eyes shining at her, and when she looks up this time, all the sheepish modesty is gone. Her face is set, ready.

“Will you help me, Sir Farspear-Ashwalker?”

“Just Yorl is fine,” he hurriedly insists. “Help you with what, Your Grace?”

She holds up the green-bound book in one hand, and our kingsmedal in the other. “This. Seven hundred pages of Old Vetrisian, some of it mixed with Qessen, and half of it near-illegible.”

“We’ll have to wait for the results of Zera’s testing, but…yes. Gladly. It sounds a true challenge.” Yorl laughs. Really laughs, a soft growl-purr under his breath. Fione looks equally pleased, eagerness beneath all her iron willpower. The celeon looks back at me, at Mal and Lucien and me, and nods.

“This may take a while. Let me show you to the beach.”

21

21

THE LITTLE
ROOM BY
THE SEA