by Amy Ewing
He laughed and she felt her magic stir inside her, embarrassed. Perhaps that had not been the right thing to say.
“See you in the morning,” he said.
“In the morning,” she repeated.
She barely noticed the grandeur of her room as she stripped off her dress and crawled into bed, and when she at last drifted off, she dreamt of an indigo sky covered with stars, and a crown of shells in a nest of curls.
18
Agnes
MATTHIAS LED AGNES AND VADA TO THE VERY BACK OF the library, to a solid copper door with an imposing lock.
He drew a ring of keys out of his pocket and used a large brass skeleton one to open it.
“These are the archives,” he said. “They hold the largest collection of Pelago’s most ancient texts.”
The archives were dim and cool, with a domed ceiling and walls made of stone. Sconces held lamps with glass so thick it distorted the flame within. The air was dry and musty and smelled faintly of peppermint. The shelves contained all manner of written work, leather-bound books with peeling spines, scrolls with fraying edges piled on top of each other, sheaths of yellowing paper. They followed Matthias to the back, where the oldest tomes were kept. Very carefully, he took a thick scroll out from where it sat in its own pigeonhole.
“These came from my family,” he said. “Writings from one of the earliest matriarchs of the Byrnes, a woman named Agata. They were donated to the archives by my great-great-grandmother. I’m sure my mother wishes she could get them back, but they belong to the university now. She came today, though, to read them. Secretly too—if the Triumvirate knew she was in Ithilia, they’d call her to Banrissa. It was the first time I’d seen her in . . . oh, years now. Not since Hektor’s wedding.” He held out the scroll to Agnes. “You should read this. It’s part of your history too, after all.”
The paper was so thin, she worried it would disintegrate in her hands. Vada leaned over her shoulder as they read. Most of the words were illegible, smudged or faded with time. But there was enough left that Agnes could piece together.
. . . set out to explore the north and discovered . . . island with palace atop a cliff. Jewels filled the waters . . . wanted to turn back but we had come too far to return to Culinnon with nothing . . . my duty as a Byrne for the f . . . a power greater than anything I ever thought possible . . . past, present, and future, all contained in . . . spoke to me and gave gifts that will keep this family strong for generations to come. I did not think at the time to . . . fog descended and became . . . off course and for days . . . there is more I know there is more. And it rightfully belongs . . . power that this country could not even begin to understand . . . will be tied to Culinnon for all time and therefore must be protected at all . . . rested and will journey again once the leg has healed. I must return to the island. It calls to me. It belongs to . . .
“An island,” Agnes murmured. “With a palace atop a cliff. This scroll is speaking of Braxos.”
“I am not liking the sound of this power greater than anything possible,” Vada said darkly.
“But we know Braxos holds power,” she said. “It has the tether.”
“How do we know that is what this scroll speaks of?” Vada said. “If humans cannot see the tether, as Sera says, then perhaps this Byrne is meaning something else.”
Agnes bit her lip. “Past, present, and future together, it says . . . and the power she found is tied to Culinnon somehow.” She looked up at her uncle. “Did she ever go back?”
“No,” Matthias said, running a hand over his thinning hair. “And she disappeared trying to find the island again. In our family it has long been known that she was searching for a Lost Island. It was just never known which one.” Then he frowned. “What is this tether you mentioned?”
“It’s . . .” Agnes debated how much she should tell him. “I can’t really explain it, except it’s the thing my friend needs to get home. It’s on Braxos—that’s why we need to get her there.”
Matthias sighed. “Agnes, it is valiant of you to want to help a friend, but I do not think anyone will ever reach Braxos. The waters are too dangerous, the fog too thick. Even Agata could not find it again.”
“We’ve got a navigator,” Agnes said. “He’s certain he can get us to the island.”
“How much have you paid him?” Matthias asked warily.
Vada grinned. “Not a single aurum.”
“He doesn’t need paying,” Agnes said. “Not that way. Besides, until we get Sera and Leo back, we aren’t going anywhere.” She paused. “What does Agata mean when she says gifts?”
Matthias opened his mouth but was interrupted by his own name.
“Matthias Byrne!” The voice that echoed through the library was rich and full of authority. Matthias started.
“Stay here,” he hissed. “Stay out of sight.”
Then he hurried out of the archives. Agnes and Vada crept forward at the same time, slipping through the doors and staying hidden behind the shelves. They peered over a row of books and saw an attractive, imposing woman standing in the central area, her sleek black hair unadorned, dressed all in maroon with a soft gray cape draped over one shoulder and pinned with a bronze brooch crafted in the shape of five stars.
“Nadia,” he said, making a hasty bow. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Did you know?” Nadia demanded without preamble.
“Know what?” Matthias blinked at her.
“What your mother was planning to do.”
“My mother does not share her confidences with me.”
“Ambrosine was here, though.” Matthias’s face flushed a blotchy red and Nadia pursed her lips. “Don’t try to deny it, Matthias; you’ve always been a terrible liar.”
“Yes, she was here. She wanted to see the archives. I let her. The archives are open to any who asks to visit them. You know that better than anyone.”
Nadia gave him a wry smile and shook her head. “Let us sit,” she said. “The news I carry has wearied me.”
They took a seat at one of the tables. “What news?” Matthias asked. “How can I be of service to the Lekke?”
Agnes felt as if a spider had crawled down her throat and was scuttling around in her stomach. Matthias was working with the Lekke? But he’d told Agnes to stay hidden. If he wanted to sell her out to the Triumvirate, he certainly had the chance now and wasn’t taking it.
“There will be a council soon. The Aerin is calling for war against Kaolin. You know how the Lekke feels about violence.” Matthias nodded. “The decision to close the ports weighed heavily on her. As does the fighting that erupts there daily. She hates to see her country torn so. And now Ambrosine has made matters worse.”
“What has my mother done?” Matthias asked.
“She has attacked Princess Rahel’s pleasure ship,” Nadia said. “And taken the Byrne and his companion away with her.”
Agnes felt relief wash over her, heady as a dream. Her grandmother had Leo and Sera. They were safe.
Matthias did not seem to be having the same reaction Agnes was. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. “Oh no.”
“Yes,” Nadia said. “It was the worst possible move at the worst possible moment. Now the Renalt is more inclined to take action. She is even threatening to leave Banrissa and sail after Ambrosine herself.”
Matthias took off his glasses and cleaned them on his sleeve. “Damn my mother,” he muttered.
“The Lekke requires your advice before the council is convened and the vote for war is taken. I have been sent to bring you to her.” She leaned forward and placed a hand on his knee. “Your queen needs you now, my friend. She needs the honest and unflinching guidance you have given her throughout your years of service.”
Matthias took a deep, fortifying breath. “Yes,” he said. “All right. Tell the Lekke I will arrive at Banrissa within the hour.”
Nadia stood in one fluid movement. “I will never understand how you are related to that family.�
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He flashed her a watery smile. “Not all Byrnes are like my mother,” he said. “You never met Alethea. She was . . .” He swallowed hard. “She was the very best of us.”
Nadia turned and was gone in a swoop of her cape. Agnes didn’t realize Vada had been clutching her arm until she released it and the blood flowed prickling into her fingers. Matthias yelped when he saw them hidden behind the shelf.
“I told you to stay in the archives,” he said.
“You work for the Triumvirate?” Agnes demanded.
“I advise the Lekke when she requests it,” Matthias said. “And, as you plainly saw, I have no interest in revealing your presence here in Ithilia. But you must leave the city at once.”
“That’s the plan,” Vada said.
Matthias was shaking his head slowly. “I never thought she would go so far as to actually physically attack the Triumvirate. Whatever scheme she has been stewing on for years, it seems the time is finally ripe to act. I fear for what that means for my country. It is bad enough, this threat from Kaolin. It is worse if we tear ourselves apart from the inside.” He placed a hand on Agnes’s shoulder. “I am grateful I got the chance to meet you.”
“Me too,” Agnes said, her throat tight.
“She’ll be taking your brother and your friend to Culinnon,” Matthias said. “That is where you must go. Leave at dawn; that’s usually when the docks are quietest. Misarros are patrolling the waters heavily.”
“What are you going to advise the Lekke to do?” Agnes asked.
“That is a very good question. But one you need not concern yourself with. I wish I could offer you better advice—in truth, I would tell you to avoid my mother altogether. But I know you cannot do that. I see Alethea’s stubbornness in you. She would not abandon a friend she had promised to help.”
Her mother would have done what she was doing. Her mother would have approved. Agnes looked around at the shelves and balconies towering above her. There was no way she could sit her interview now. She would have to give up this dream, to help Sera and get back to her brother.
Matthias seemed to read her thoughts. “You are thinking about your acceptance to this university,” he said.
Agnes shrugged and hoped she looked nonchalant. “It’s all right. Maybe I can apply again next year.”
“There is no interview, Agnes. It was all a formality. My mother used it in hopes of getting you to Pelago. You have already been accepted to the Academy of Sciences—she decreed it since the day you sent in your application. But she hopes that once she gets you to Culinnon, you won’t want to leave.”
Agnes’s head spun and the ground seemed to tilt beneath her. “Are you saying . . . I didn’t . . . qualify?”
Matthias gave her a sympathetic smile. “I read your essay—I promise you, Agnes, you are eminently qualified. My mother just doesn’t think Byrnes need to follow the rules like everyone else.”
Hot tears filled her eyes but she didn’t want to cry, not yet, not here. They had a job to do, a purpose, a mission. Her grandmother buying her way into the university shouldn’t matter right now. And yet somehow it did.
“We have to go,” she said. “We have to get to Leo and Sera.”
Vada put a gentle hand on her shoulder but Agnes shrugged it off. She didn’t want comfort right now. She didn’t know what she wanted.
“I do hope to see you again, Agnes,” Matthias said. Then he grinned, quick and catlike. “The semester begins at the end of the month.”
Agnes managed a nod and left the library in a daze, Vada following close behind. She walked down the steps back to their waiting metapar on wooden legs, climbing into the seat as Vada said, “Take us to the Street of Lies. Bas’s Secret.”
The cart lurched forward. Agnes was dimly aware of the streets they wound through, but all the colors and sounds blurred together.
“This isn’t how I wanted it to be,” she said after a while. Her voice was thick with emotion. “I was supposed to deserve a spot, not have it gifted to me because of my family name.”
“Hey,” Vada said. “Do not be so cruel to yourself. You are the smartest person I know, Agnes McLellan, and one of the bravest too. Your grandmother did what grandmothers do—she tried to take care of you. Adults are not always knowing what is best for us.”
Agnes shook her head. A tear slid down her cheek and Vada brushed it away with her thumb, a simple gesture that held more meaning than Agnes could put into words. True, her acceptance was not what she thought it would be. But Vada was here, Vada was touching her, comforting her.
“I am thinking you will be making one of Pelago’s premier scientists,” Vada declared.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“Perhaps. But why would that mean it is not also true?”
Agnes gave in to the smile that rose up inside her and allowed herself to melt a little into Vada’s arms. She could feel Vada’s heart beat against her shoulder and it was exciting and calming all at once.
There were other things to consider anyway, she thought as the cart bumped along the streets of Ithilia. Her grandmother had attacked that princess. Leo and Sera were safe for now. She hoped Vada knew how to get to Culinnon. Her stomach pinched at the thought of this mystical island she never knew existed that would one day be hers.
She wondered if Ambrosine knew her estranged son was working for a member of the Triumvirate. Probably—her grandmother seemed like the type who knew everything.
The metapar rolled to a halt and Agnes looked around. They were on a narrow street lit with colorful paper lanterns. Wild music spilled out of the crooked restaurants and bars that lined the cobbled road, and the people here were dressed in slinky clothes and seemed like the sort who would not be out of place in Old Port’s East Village—artists and musicians and philosophers.
“Where are we?” Agnes asked as Vada jumped down to pay the driver.
“The Street of Lies,” Vada said. “Bas’s Secret is one of my favorite spots in all of Ithilia. They have the best plum wine in Pelago and I am thinking we could both use a drink.”
Agnes allowed herself to be led into a bar with no sign, just a painting of Bas above it, the goddess reclining naked, her long black hair covering her more sensitive parts, her red skin shining dully.
Inside, everything was red and black. Red painted walls with black tables, lamps with red-and-black checkered shades perched on each one. Smoke swirled through the air and there was a small stage in one corner with a jazz quartet playing. The bar itself was fashioned out of a coffin, Agnes realized, which seemed awfully morbid yet also appropriate for a place named after the goddess of death.
“Vada,” the bartender said with a smile as she approached. She was a wizened old woman with gnarled hands and a gold tooth. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen your face around here.” She eyed Agnes curiously. “Who’s your friend?”
“We need a table and to use your washroom, Neve,” Vada said.
The bartender laughed. “I could smell the sea on you when you walked in the door.” She reached behind the bar and handed Vada a small silver key. “Lock up when you’re done.”
The washroom was tiny and cramped, with only a sink and some towels and a bar of patchouli-scented soap. Vada stripped out of her vest and unbuttoned her shirt before Agnes even had a second to think. She turned away quickly, her face hot, but not before she caught a glimpse of Vada’s lean torso and small firm breasts. Agnes’s heart was pummeling against her chest as she waited for Vada to finish washing. Desire and anxiety warred inside her, along with the abrupt inexplicable fear that Vada did not want Agnes the same way Agnes wanted her.
“It is nice to be feeling clean again,” Vada said. “Even if only a little.”
“Mm-hm,” Agnes said. She began to unbutton her vest, but slowly, hoping Vada would be done by the time she stripped it off, and also sort of hoping she wouldn’t.
But she peeled the vest off and turned to find Vada fully clothed
.
“I will be getting us drinks and a table,” she said. “Come find me when you are finished.”
Agnes forced herself to nod, holding her breath until Vada left. She quickly washed her face and chest and under her arms, drying herself with a towel and feeling the buzzing of nerves in her stomach.
Vada was at a table with a carafe of plum wine and a plate of olives and feta cheese. “Wait until you try this,” she said, pouring them each a drink. “You will never want to be drinking anything else.”
Agnes took a sip of wine—it was strong and rich with a fruity aftertaste. She found she quite liked it.
“Ah! There is the smile I was hoping for,” Vada said. “Tonight, we drink, we laugh, we enjoy ourselves. At dawn, we leave for Culinnon.” She shook her head. “Never in my life did I think I would be setting my sails in the direction of that island.”
By the time they finished the carafe, Agnes was feeling much better. Her shoulders were relaxed, her pulse not so rapid, a hazy calm settling over her.
“What is that look?” Vada asked slyly, and Agnes realized a dreamy expression had spread across her face.
“I’m going to be a scientist,” she said.
Vada’s smile was like a flash of sunlight on still water. “Yes,” she said, leaning in close. “You are.” She ran her fingers through a lock of Agnes’s hair and Agnes shuddered with want, the muscles in her thighs tightening. “I am liking this mane. You are a lion on the outside as well as the inside now.”
When Agnes spoke her voice was rough as sandpaper. “Thank you,” she said, “for sticking with me.”
Vada’s feline eyes held Agnes’s with an intensity they never had before. They were so close, Agnes could count every freckle on the bridge of her nose, see each individual eyelash. She felt her breath stop in her chest. Very slowly, as if not wanting to frighten her, Vada took Agnes’s face in her hands, her fingers calloused and sure. Agnes stayed as still as she could as Vada leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips.
Agnes had never dreamed she would be kissed by a sailor in a smoky bar in Ithilia. She never dreamed she would really be kissed at all. Vada leaned in again and this time their kiss deepened; she melted into the feel of Vada’s mouth on hers, the taste of plum and salt on her tongue. Without stopping to think if she should, she wound one arm around Vada’s waist, her other hand sinking into the girl’s thick auburn hair. By the time they broke apart, she was breathless.
