A clap of thunder rang out and rain poured down the glass, distorting the world outside.
“Leo, come sit here,” Ambrosine said, indicating the chair beside her. “I hear you and Sera visited one of my Arboreal groves today.”
Leo glanced at his uncle, seated on Ambrosine’s other side, but Hektor’s face was a blank canvas, revealing nothing.
“We did,” he said, taking his seat. “I didn’t know there were more than one.”
“Oh yes, we have seven groves on Culinnon,” she said.
“Seven?” Sera gasped.
Ambrosine looked pleased. “Yes.”
“But then why do you not share them?” Sera asked. “With so many, you could start groves on other islands.”
Ambrosine frowned like Sera was being stupid on purpose. “They belong to the Byrnes,” she said. “Not some ignorant Malley from Adereen.”
Bellamy flinched, and Hektor changed the subject.
“A dove came from Ithilia,” he said to Leo. “The Kaolin navy has arrived. The Misarros are keeping them at bay for now.”
“For now?” Ambrosine’s lip curled. “Misarro warships could trump a Kaolin frigate any day of the week and twice on Sundays. Ithilia can take care of itself. Though I’m sure they’re missing the Renalt’s forces at the moment.” She smiled smugly as servants poured into the dining room, filling their glasses with sparkling scintillant and serving the first course. Bowls of a creamy pale green soup were set in front of them, a radish carved in the shape of a flower floating on top. Leo took a tentative bite—it tasted of basil and zucchini and was surprisingly delicious.
“You don’t seem too concerned that your country’s capital is under attack,” Leo noted.
Ambrosine raised one elegant eyebrow. “I’m not.”
Leo felt like he was missing something—shouldn’t Ambrosine be upset that Kaolin was attacking Pelago? Yes, Culinnon was far away and well protected, but still. Though maybe she was happy this would mean fewer ships to sink in search of Braxos.
“I was thinking of taking Leo to the cove tomorrow,” Hektor said. “He’d best start learning how to sail.”
Leo had already learned some sailing on the Maiden’s Wail, and it was really more Sera’s thing than his. He didn’t feel a need to learn more and didn’t understand why they would want him to.
“An excellent idea, Hektor,” Ambrosine said, and Hektor looked the happiest Leo had seen him since he’d embraced Bellamy on the dock that morning. “Perhaps start with—”
Just then another clap of thunder rang out as a servant rushed into the hall.
“Mistress, a ship has come,” she said, panting.
Ambrosine was on her feet in a flash. “The Renalt?” she asked. But the servant was shaking her head.
“It’s your granddaughter,” she said, and Leo’s heart flipped in his chest.
Agnes had made it to Culinnon.
27
Agnes
THE STORM HAD BEEN BREWING ALL DAY AND AGNES HAD been watching the clouds with increasing trepidation.
They’d made far better time than even Vada could have anticipated. Errol had led them from Ithilia to a hidden path, a network of rivers that ran through the island of Cairan, saving them days off their journey by not having to sail around it. He was exceptionally skilled at avoiding other ships as well, and so while they had seen them in the distance, they were never close enough to be noticed or bothered with. Then, just yesterday, the ocean had become empty for as far as Agnes could see. The weather had grown steadily colder the farther north they sailed, and the two girls would huddle together at night for warmth, which always led to kissing, which made Agnes very happy despite the chill.
But even kissing Vada would not keep her warm in a rainstorm.
“I wish Errol could tell us how close we are,” Agnes said.
“I am thinking we must be nearing Culinnon,” Vada said. “The passages around it have been closed, yes? And we have seen no ships.”
“True,” Agnes said. There was a faint rumble in the sky and Errol popped up, flashing purple, the colors of Culinnon.
“Will we make it there before the storm?” Agnes asked, but he only gave the clouds one sullen look and then vanished beneath the waves.
“It makes no matter to him,” Vada pointed out. “He’s always wet.”
There was a flash of lightning and then a great clap of thunder and the heavens opened and rain poured down on them. There was nothing for Agnes to do but sit there and shiver. Rivulets ran down her back, her clothes soaked in minutes, her hair plastered to her face. Lightning streaked across the sky as the sea grew rougher. Agnes gripped the sides of the sloop tight, her knuckles white.
“Don’t be falling in, little lion!” Vada called. Agnes glowered and Vada laughed. “It’s only a bit of water,” she shouted over the pounding of the rain.
Agnes wiped her eyes, which was pointless because the rain kept on falling. “A bit?” she shouted back. Vada grinned and shrugged.
The storm raged and the waves crashed against the hull, sending sprays of water onto the sloop so that Agnes was being doused from above and below. She tried to think of warm things, of thick soft blankets and roaring fires and hot mugs of tea. Her teeth were clenched so hard her jaw ached, shudders ripping through her in violent bursts.
Just then Vada cried out, “Land!” and Agnes saw lights shining on the horizon. The water around them began to churn, and not just from the storm; Agnes leaned over the hull and gasped as she saw hundreds of colored lights.
“Mertags, Vada!” she yelled. “Look!”
The ocean was full of them, flashing and twisting, lighting up the water in colors more brilliant than a sunrise so that Agnes felt they were sailing through a living rainbow. Errol was wriggling his way among them, and the two girls watched as he flashed at this one and that, and the joy that radiated out from his scales was palpable.
It suddenly occurred to Agnes that he was home.
“Who goes there?”
The ship came upon them out of nowhere, the voice almost swept away on the howling wind. Agnes looked up to see a sleek schooner painted in muted colors with a Misarro with gold disks at her neck staring down at them.
“My name is Agnes McLellan,” she shouted. “I am the daughter of Alethea Byrne. I’ve come to—”
But the Misarro cut her off. “Agnes!” she cried. “Your grandmother has been so worried about you. Come!”
The schooner turned and Vada adjusted the tiller to follow. Agnes felt a flurry of nerves in her chest.
Her grandmother was here, and Agnes was going to meet her at last.
The rain was so heavy, all she could really make out of Culinnon was lots of trees and a mansion of glass.
She and Vada stood dripping on the floor of an enormous front room, huddling close to the firepit that ran down the center of it. A servant had instructed them to wait while she fetched Ambrosine. Vada whistled as she gazed around at the glass walls and oddly shaped furniture.
“Nice place,” she said as another clap of thunder rang out.
Several minutes later, Agnes heard the patter of feet, and then there was a flash of silver-blue as Sera darted into the room and threw her arms around her.