by Amy Ewing
“We are needing more wine, I think,” Vada said with a grin. Agnes barely managed a nod. Vada laughed and kissed her again, then got up to head to the bar. Agnes sat back, her head swimming. She had been kissed. She touched her lips gently, feeling dizzy, and bemused, and so very happy.
Vada returned and refilled their glasses. She laughed when she saw Agnes’s expression. “You are looking at me like I am some kind of treat.”
“You are to me,” Agnes said. Vada’s expression softened and she pulled Agnes toward her for another kiss.
There was a faint tinkling of bells as the door opened and two men walked in, one red-haired, one brown. The brown-haired man had a thick, bushy beard, and hair as wild as the sea, and Agnes felt there was something familiar about him, something she couldn’t quite place . . .
“Oh my god,” she gasped, and slid down in her seat, covering her face with her hands.
“What?” Vada looked around. “What is it?”
Agnes peered through her fingers, her suspicions confirmed. It couldn’t be, though. It couldn’t.
“Agnes?” Vada shook her.
“Those two men at the bar,” Agnes said. “You see the one with the brown hair and beard?”
Agnes looked at Vada and her heart felt as though it was pounding through wet concrete.
“That’s my father.”
19
Agnes
WHAT WAS HE DOING HERE?
Agnes kept her face covered with her hands until Vada hissed, “Stop that, you are not looking normal,” so she picked up her glass of plum wine and downed it in one gulp, nearly choking on the richness. Vada refilled both of their glasses and adjusted her seat so that she was partially screening Agnes.
“It is dark in here, remember, and you are not looking at all the Kaolin lady you were when you first boarded the Maiden’s Wail,” she said.
“Right,” Agnes said breathlessly. “Right.”
She peered over Vada’s shoulder and saw her father deep in conversation with the bartender, who was treating him with a sort of surly familiarity. Her father’s beard had all grown out; she recognized the other man as Kiernan, but his face was ruddy and wind chapped. Xavier had been looking for Braxos like everyone else, but Agnes never in a million years dreamed he’d actually come looking for it himself.
And what could possibly have compelled him to come to this bar of all places? It wasn’t the sort of spot Agnes would ever have pictured her father patronizing, regardless of the country.
Whatever the bartender told him got a strong reaction from her father. His face grew stony, but at the same time his eyes seemed to burn. He shot another question at her and his reaction was, if anything, scarier—he began to laugh. He ordered a drink, took it in one long draft, then slammed the glass down on the bar. Kiernan said something to him and Xavier snapped back a response. Agnes nearly fainted with relief as they headed for the door. She held her breath until they were good and gone, then sat back and took a sip of wine, her blood pounding in her temples.
“Let’s see what he was looking for,” Vada said, standing and gesturing to Agnes to follow her to the bar. “Got a cigarette for me, Neve?” she asked the bartender sweetly.
The woman pursed her lips and reached into her pocket, pulling out a pretty silver case and opening it. Vada took a cigarette and lit it using one of the thick black candles decorating the bar. She exhaled a long stream of smoke and smiled. “Thanks. Hey, was that some Kaolin asshole I saw giving you attitude?”
“Aye, it was,” Neve said, then spit on the floor. “You know him?”
“Nah, the beard gave it away.” Vada flicked some ash off her cigarette. “What was he after?”
The bartender snorted. “You’re too young to remember it all. That there was Xavier McLellan, the one who married Alethea Byrne and stole her away to Kaolin. He used to come in here all the time back when he was courting her. Courting her money more like, but that’s none of my business. He’s even staying at the inn on the Street o’ Leaves, just like he used to. Old habits, I suppose.”
Agnes’s fingers clutched at her glass so tight she feared she might break it. Her father had met her mother in Pelago. In Pelago. She’d always assumed Alethea had come to Old Port.
Not to mention spending his nights here. It was almost too impossible for Agnes to believe, except she’d seen him with her own eyes and the bartender had no reason to lie.
“Lucky he was docking in Ithilia at all,” Vada said. “Misarros and soldiers everywhere, locking up Kaolins left and right.”
“Aye, but he knows the city plus he’s got a Pelagan with him, red-haired fellow. Asking about Ambrosine, they were. Told ’em she’d cut off the passages to the Lost Islands. Didn’t like that much. His attitude changed, though, when I told him about Princess Rahel’s ship. You hear about that?”
Vada nodded.
Neve whistled. “She’s gone and done it now, Ambrosine has. Xavier laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d heard in his life. Anyway, I told him if he wanted to escape the dungeons of Banrissa, he’d best be leaving and leaving soon.”
“That was uncommonly nice of you,” Vada said.
Neve shrugged. “He’s a good tipper. Always was, still is. I remember one night, he took out Alethea and her whole entourage—she was always surrounded by actors and musicians and sculptors, the sort who are looking for a wealthy patron. Alethea didn’t care a fig about money.” She gave a derisive grunt. “Those who have it never do. They kept drinking and he kept buying. Were here until close. Left me a fat pile of aurums.”
“Was that impressing Alethea?” Vada asked.
Neve chuckled. “Weren’t you listening? Alethea didn’t care about money. She liked him because he was different. Don’t get more different than a Kaolin in Pelago. Besides,” she said, pouring herself a shot and downing it, “it pissed her mother off and there’s nothing a daughter enjoys more than that.”
Vada finished her drink. “Thanks for the cig and the gossip, Neve,” she said, tossing a couple aurums on the counter. “See you around.”
Once they were outside, Agnes gulped the cool air.
“It is a lot to be processing,” Vada agreed.
“My father met my mother here?” she cried. “In Pelago? In Ithilia? In this bar?” Agnes leaned against the wall of Bas’s Secret and put her hands on her knees. “No one ever told me. Not even Eneas. Why would they keep this from me?”
“Your father is hating Pelago,” Vada said. “Why would he wish to admit he met his wife here?”
That was a fair point.
“Where is this inn Neve mentioned?” Agnes asked. “The one my father is staying at.”
The one he had stayed at before, she said. It was bizarre to learn her father had regular spots in Ithilia.
“I am thinking she meant the Old Waves Inn,” Vada said.
“Take me there,” Agnes said.
The Street of Leaves was a narrow, winding road paved with a patchwork of smooth slate. The inn was perched at its top—Agnes had a clear view of Banrissa, illuminated against the night sky at the summit of the cliff.
Agnes and Vada approached the inn, which was made of white stucco with seashells inlaid along its door. The roof was simple and thatched, a curl of smoke winding its way out of the chimney. Light spilled from the large front window, open to let out the sound of voices. Agnes heard her father say, “We leave tomorrow.” Then he chuckled. “Ambrosine is going to bring the whole Triumvirate down on her.”
Her heart skipped and she looked at Vada and pressed her finger to her lips. Vada nodded and they crept forward, keeping out of the light.
Kiernan and Xavier sat together in the corner, right next to the open window. A map was laid out on the table before them, stretched between two mugs of dark beer and a plate of grilled sardines.
“We can’t underestimate her,” Kiernan said. “If she’s confident enough to openly attack Princess Rahel’s ship, she must have some plan in place.”
“Why, Ezra. I didn’t know you had so much admiration for her.”
Kiernan’s ruddy cheeks turned redder. “It’s not admiration, it’s the truth. I didn’t want to come back here at all, if you recall. You promised me—”
Xavier’s mouth twisted. “I promised to get you away from her and I did. I never promised I wouldn’t bring you back. Don’t worry, Ezra. I don’t want her to get her hands on you any more than you do.”
Kiernan wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “I wish I believed that.”
“So now you don’t trust me?” Her father took a long drink of beer, then traced a line on the map with one finger. “She’ll take them to Culinnon. Whichever one she’s got, Leo or Agnes, that’s where she’ll go.” He gave a snort. “How rich, if she only has Leo. She’ll be so disappointed.”
Agnes felt a surge of protectiveness for her brother.
“More bodies are washing up on the northern islands each day,” Kiernan said. “And none of the ships that have left have returned. The last dispatch was from a schooner called the Desperation—such an unfortunate name—and all it said was, Fog too dense. Must turn back.” He swallowed. “They found the captain’s body on the shores of Adereen two days later. No sign of the ship or the rest of the crew.”
“These stories don’t scare me, Ezra.”
Kiernan sighed and popped a sardine in his mouth. “I wish they would,” he grumbled.
“She knows something,” Xavier growled. “You’re right, if she’s confident enough to outright attack the Triumvirate, something’s changed.” He tapped the table with one finger. “Matthias might know.”
Agnes felt she shouldn’t be surprised that her father knew Matthias after all the revelations tonight, but somehow she still was.
“I highly doubt that,” Kiernan said.
Xavier smirked. “Scared of a reunion? Matthias has no bite, Ezra, you don’t have to be afraid of him.”
Kiernan muttered something that made her father laugh, and it sent a chill down Agnes’s spine. Then he drained the last of his mug and set it down. “It’s late,” he said. “And we must get an early start tomorrow.” He scratched his chin. “I need to shave. I stand out far too much with this damned beard.”
He stood and Agnes quickly pressed herself against the wall of the inn. She listened as their footsteps receded and the common room grew quiet. Next to her, Vada let out a low whistle.
“He’s after Ambrosine,” she said.
Agnes wasn’t sure exactly what her father was after, but one thing was certain—he was headed to the same place she was. To Leo and Sera.
“We can’t let him get his hands on Sera again,” she said. She felt so small, stuck between these two imposing forces, her father and her grandmother. “Or on Leo. Or me. We’ve got to leave Ithilia. Tonight, now. We can’t wait for dawn.”
“It is too dark,” Vada protested.
A slow grin spread across Agnes’s face. “Not with Errol it isn’t.”
They hurried back to the docks and as soon as they boarded the Palma, Errol’s head popped up out of the water. Agnes smiled and took a piece of dried apple out of one of the satchels for him.
“Errol,” she said, settling down at the sloop’s edge. “We’ve got to leave now, tonight. Sera has gone to another island and we need to go there to find her. We need you to light our way. We have to sail to Culinnon.”
At the sound of that name, Errol straightened and his lights burned in a flash of brilliant purple. Agnes and Vada exchanged a glance.
“Errol, do you know Culinnon?” Agnes said.
Again the lights blinked purple. Agnes leaned forward. “We need to get there quickly. Sera is going to Culinnon. Do you understand? Sera. Culinnon.”
Errol snapped his teeth at them and flashed orange-magenta-white. Agnes got the distinct impression he was exasperated by her, as if he was saying yes, of course I understand.
Once Vada had readied the ship, Errol’s scales began to glow greenish gold. He snapped his teeth again, then gestured with one scaly claw. As he slid beneath the waves, a beacon of light guiding their way, Vada let out the sail and Agnes felt a burst of hope in the dark night.
They were on their way. To Culinnon.
20
Leo
THEY HAD BEEN AT SEA A WEEK ON THE MORNING LEO’S grandmother burst into his cabin with news.
“A dove has come,” Ambrosine said imperiously as Leo yanked the covers up over his bare chest, squinting around in the sunlight.
“Huh?” was all he could muster, his brain foggy with sleep.
She took a seat at the armchair by his porthole as Mckenna, the young servant girl, rushed in with a tray of coffee and breakfast pastries.
“From Ithilia,” Ambrosine said, waving a small scroll at him as Mckenna poured her coffee. The smell of it filled his cabin, mixing with the buttery scent of the pastries, and Leo’s stomach growled. He grabbed the robe that hung beside his bed and slipped it on as the serving girl handed him his own cup. He smiled at her gratefully and she blushed. Mckenna was always blushing around him.
“That will be all, Mckenna,” Ambrosine said, and she scuttled from the room.
Pelago didn’t have a telegraph system like Kaolin, Leo had learned, but instead used trained doves to deliver messages. Ambrosine had been waiting for a message since the day they left Ithilia and it seemed at last, news had finally arrived. Leo took a bracing sip of his coffee.
Ambrosine unfurled the scroll and Leo caught a glimpse of triumph in her expression. “Your sister made it to Ithilia,” she said.
Leo’s shoulders relaxed. “Agnes is okay?”
“She met my son Matthias—he is the university librarian.” She said it as if it were something to be ashamed of. “There was another girl her age traveling with her.”
“Vada,” Leo said with relief.
“It appears they have a ship. They would certainly have heard of my attack on Rahel and my rescuing of you and Sera. Matthias would know I am headed to Culinnon. Let us hope he has instructed them to sail here at once.”
She didn’t sound certain, Leo was surprised to hear. From what he’d gathered from his time on the galleon, Ambrosine commanded ironclad obedience from everyone around her, her family most especially.
“That’s great news,” he said.
“There was a war council as well,” she continued. “The Triumvirate has voted. Three to zero. War has been declared on Kaolin.” She grinned wickedly. “Even the Lekke, after all this time, has finally found her backbone.” She slapped her thigh. “But that’s not all, Leo. The Renalt has left Banrissa!”
“And that’s . . . good?”
Ambrosine’s displeasure showed in the faintest pursing of her lips. “Of course you wouldn’t know, your hateful father and his hateful ways. The queens rarely leave Banrissa, usually only for ceremonies or the occasional holiday. But she has taken her warships. She is coming after me.”
Leo felt that the news of being hunted down personally by a queen should not have been said with such eager anticipation.
“The Triumvirate is fracturing even as we sit here sipping our coffee,” Ambrosine said. “Oh, it is better than I could have ever hoped. I should have sunk Rahel’s ridiculous pleasure ship years ago.” Then she frowned. “No, I was right to wait. Agnes is coming.” She looked up at Leo like she’d forgotten him. “And you are here too! And Sera. No, my patience has paid off.”
“Great,” Leo said, though inside he felt queasy. Ambrosine had not been entirely able to hide her disappointment that Leo was not Agnes—he knew she’d rather have his sister here than him. For all her talk of the importance of family, it was the women who really mattered, not the men. Every night at dinner they had been treated to a new story about some Byrne matriarch or other, of brutal punishments meted out to enemies or heroic deeds of exploration and advancement. “I’ll leave you to dress. We are nearly at Culinnon.”
“We are?” For the past two days there had been nothin
g except sky and sea stretching out around them. In the beginning of the journey they had seen the coastlines of other islands, the waters dotted with ships. But the farther north they went, the colder it got and the emptier the ocean became.
Ambrosine gazed out his porthole. “I can always feel when it’s close,” she murmured. “It calls to me.”
Leo shuddered. Without another word, Ambrosine strode out of his cabin. Meetings with his grandmother left him with the feeling of being doused in cold water. He munched on a cinnamon roll as he picked out clothes for the day. No more billowing silk shirts and sashes. In the north, they wore thick cable-knit sweaters and heavy woolen pants.
He found Sera standing at the rail, gazing out over the whitecapped waves. Gray clouds blanketed the sky, heavy with impending rain. Leo shivered despite his sweater. Sera wore a fur-lined cloak with the hood down, her blue hair flowing in a river down her back.
“Agnes and Vada made it to Ithilia,” he said as he approached her. “My grandmother just got a message.”
“They did?” she exclaimed. “Oh, Leo, how wonderful.”
“Ambrosine says they have a boat, so they should be heading to Culinnon.” He told her about the declaration of war and the Renalt’s decision to pursue Ambrosine herself. Sera’s excited expression faded.
“War,” she muttered. “Why must humans fight against each other? Kill each other. For what?” She looked out across the sea again.
“I guess it’s just in our nature,” Leo said.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think sometimes you forget who you are, or what is truly important in this world. . . .”
He felt like she was talking about something else, as if he’d interrupted her during a moment of deep contemplation.
