“Where else?” he replied gruffly. His face burning red, Florian turned away. Koji shot him a look that was just as bewildered as he felt.
“What’s up with this guy? Jeez,” Florian muttered, leaning closer to Koji and speaking just loud enough for the other boy to hear him over the motor.
“I don’t think we should tell him anything else,” Koji said quietly, frowning. “I don’t like this man.”
“Me neither,” Florian said, glancing behind him nervously, but Carl was looking well past them out at the ocean. When Florian turned back around, the sea looked calm, but he didn’t know much about sailing. In the distance, he thought he could make out a faint shape like an island, though they were still too far to really be able to tell.
They kept moving toward the shape, though, and soon it started to solidify into a land mass. That had to be it, Florian thought as he once again looked at the tourist map Koji had brought along. It looked mountainous and uninhabited; and once it was close enough for Florian to make out distinct shapes of rocks and trees, the noise of the motor died down, and Carl spoke once again.
“You’re looking for the curtain, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Florian said, turning to look back over at the old man once again. One of his hands was still on the motor, the other shoved deep in his coat pocket—he wore gloves, but they looked threadbare. “We’re—”
Metal flashed in his hand as he pulled it out of his pocket. The knife wasn’t particularly large or threatening-looking, but they were in a small boat with nothing but frigid water surrounding them. Florian scrambled back in fear, pulling Koji with him.
“What the fuck is your problem?!” he snapped, trying to create distance between them. Koji had gone very still beside him, but Florian could feel the tension roiling off him.
“Why don’t you start by telling me just who the hell you are?” Carl said, gesturing toward them with the knife. He didn’t draw any closer, but kept it pointed toward them. “How did you find out about us? What business do you have with the krakens?”
“I’m Ryuuga Koji, second prince of the dragon kingdom,” Koji said, before Florian could respond. “We’re on a diplomatic mission to speak with the kraken king. Who, I’m sure, won’t be happy to hear you’ve pulled a knife and threatened his guests.”
Carl looked unmoved, but his eyes shifted from Koji to Florian. “Alright, we’ve got a dragon prince. And you?”
Florian straightened his back, suddenly self-conscious. Koji had taken control of the situation so effortlessly that he felt useless in comparison. “I’m King Florian of the Winter Court.”
Carl scoffed. “That’s a lie. Jerah’s the king of the Winter Court.”
“I’m his son. He died a few months ago.”
“Jerah didn’t have a son.”
Florian’s face burned. “When was the last time you were even in the Veil? A century?”
Carl scowled, but didn’t seem to have a rebuttal against that. “Fine. King Torsten will be the judge of that, I suppose. What’s your business with the krakens?”
“We’re looking for allies,” Florian replied, trying to sound sure of himself.
“Don’t tell me this is nonsense about the Arrows again,” Carl muttered. Florian fell silent, unsure of how to respond, and the old man groaned. But he lowered the knife, at least, which allowed Florian to marginally relax. “God below, you really must be Jerah’s son. Damned kids. Next time, don’t be so obvious asking around about Mosken. Curtains are supposed to be secret.”
Florian gave a sharp nod, still unsure how to reply. His skin felt suddenly icy—he’d broken into a cold sweat, which was now rapidly cooling in the frigid air. He sensed some of the tension drain from Koji beside him as well, but they were both still on high alert.
“We understand,” Koji replied smoothly, and somehow shot that same effortless smile at Carl. “And I apologize for the trouble. We really do appreciate you bringing us here. And rest assured, we won’t bother you ever again.”
“That’s for sure,” Florian muttered under his breath.
“Curtain’s tricky,” Carl said, the motor humming to life once again. The knife had vanished back into his coat pocket. “Right by the whirlpool. You’ll have to go in the water. I hope you know how to swim.”
Florian’s eyes boggled in his skull all over again. “Inthe water?” he repeated incredulously. It was near one of the largest whirlpools in the world, and they’d have to swim to get to the curtain? He could swim, of course—but the idea of swimming here in the open ocean next to a fucking whirlpool was worlds away from the afternoon they’d just spent in a hotel pool.
“In the water,” Carl agreed. “Krakens don’t take kindly to strangers. The whirlpool’s there to make sure no unseemly types can get in.”
“We’re not unseemly,” Koji protested.
“Then you shouldn’t have much problem getting through then, should you?” Carl snapped back, and neither of them had a retort to that.
The whirlpool became visible in the water as they approached, and the surrounding waves grew increasingly rough the nearer they got. More than once, the boat bucked up high in the air and landed back down with a hard smack, spraying them with cold water—how could such a tiny boat make such a difficult journey?
“You picked a good time to come,” Carl said behind them. “Current’s not too bad. Wind’s gentle too.”
