“I’m all wet,” Agnes protested, but Sera held her tight. When she finally pulled away, Leo was there right behind her, a big grin on his face.
“You made it,” he said. “We heard you were coming, but . . . you guys made good time.”
“We had some help,” Vada said.
“It’s so good to see you both,” Agnes said. “What happened? We heard about the princess’s ship but then we had to flee Ithilia in the night and we’ve been out of contact with the world since.”
“We have so much to t—” Leo began, but then there was a soft clearing of a throat and he fell silent and stepped aside.
Her grandmother was standing in the doorway, and she was more elegant than Agnes had ever imagined. She was struck by just how much she looked like Leo, except for the nose, and her black curls were done up and pinned with pointed venuses, her blue lace gown the height of sophistication. She exuded power and confidence and for a moment, Agnes’s breath was taken away at the very idea that they were related.
“Agnes,” Ambrosine said, and Agnes stumbled forward. Her grandmother held out her hands and took both of Agnes’s. “By the goddesses, it is so very good to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” Agnes said thickly. Then she shivered. “Sorry. I’m getting your carpet all wet.”
Ambrosine laughed. “No need to worry about carpets, my dear, I’ve hundreds of them. But you must be desperate for a bath and fresh clothes. You and your companion . . .”
“Vada Murchadha,” Vada said, giving an awkward bow. “At your service.”
Ambrosine’s brows pinched together, but she inclined her head politely. “Vada,” she said. Then she clapped her hands and two servant girls hurried into the room. “Take my granddaughter and her friend to bathe and find them rooms in the eastern glen.”
“Yes, mistress,” one said as the other bobbed a curtsy.
Agnes didn’t want to leave Sera and Leo so soon, but a bath sounded like heaven.
“Don’t worry,” Leo said when he saw her hesitation. “We aren’t going anywhere.”
She smiled at him gratefully and noticed Sera slip her hand into his. That was a new development. Though they both had many stories to tell, Agnes was sure of it. For now she allowed herself to be led out of the foyer and through winding halls of glass until they came to a room carved into the trunk of an enormous sycamore tree. Inside was a bathhouse, smooth rounded walls with a massive stone tub sunk in its center, steam rising gently from its surface. Agnes and Vada quickly stripped off their wet clothes and sank into the bath with identical moans of pleasure. Agnes could feel the hard knots in her muscles begin to thaw as the steam filled her lungs.
Once they were clean and wrapped in big fluffy towels, the servants led them to rooms on the ground floor of the estate, Vada’s right across from Agnes’s.
Clothes had been laid out on the bed for her, a woolen dress and velvet cape with a fur-lined hood. Agnes would have to see about some pants later—for now these garments were dry and warm, and that was all that mattered. One wall of her room was made entirely of grass, tiny red flowers scattered among the dark green blades. Another was paneled in glass that looked out onto a pretty garden with a jeweled birdbath, and a third was a quilt of smooth paving stones, a fireplace set in its center with a roaring blaze that coated the room in delicious warmth.
Agnes had just finished dressing when her door burst open and Vada strode in.
“This is the first time I am wearing a dress since . . . perhaps since ever,” she grumbled. The dress was simple, gray linen with a scoop neck and a thin leather belt. “Not that I am complaining,” she said, walking over and plopping down on Agnes’s bed. “It is very fine material and kind of your grandmother to be giving me clothes to wear.” She chuckled. “If only my mama could see me now. Dressed by a Byrne on the estates of Culinnon!”
“I think you look very nice,” Agnes said, which wasn’t a lie. The dress suited her; she just didn’t look like Vada.
Vada reached out for her hand and when Agnes took it, Vada tugged her close, tucking Agnes between her legs and running her hands over her waist.
“What are you thinking about your grandmother?”
“I don’t know,” Agnes said, sinking her fingers into Vada’s thick auburn hair, free from its usual braid. “She’s much more elegant than I imagined, I guess. More . . . stately.”
Vada laughed. “Stately, yes. This is true.”
“I hope she can help us get Sera to Braxos.”
“We are not needing her help,” Vada reminded her. “We have a ship and we have Errol. That is all we need.”
Agnes’s heart swelled to hear it. “That’s right,” she said.
She leaned forward to kiss her—their tongues twined and then Vada pulled her down so that Agnes fell on top of her on the bed, laughing as Vada left a trail of kisses down her neck.
There was a light tap on the door.
“Pardon the intrusion,” Ambrosine said, and Agnes scrambled to her feet, her cheeks burning as she adjusted her dress and smoothed back her hair.
“Um, oh no, it’s fine,” she said, completely mortified and trying not to show it.
“I was wondering, Agnes, if I might speak to you in private,” Ambrosine said.
Vada was on her feet in an instant. “I will go find Sera and Leo,” she said. “We did not get to have a proper welcome.”
She gave Ambrosine another awkward bow and left.
“How do you find your accommodations?” Ambrosine asked.
“It’s a very nice room,” Agnes said. “This whole estate is beautiful.”
Her grandmother smiled. It wasn’t the sort of smile Agnes had pictured, full of warmth and joy like her mother’s smile in the photograph. There was something sly and almost aggressive about it.
“Why don’t we sit,” she suggested. There were two brocade armchairs nestled in a corner between the stone wall and the grass one, and Agnes took a seat opposite Ambrosine, her heart skipping erratically.
“Leo informed me your father told you nothing of me, or your mother, or this side of your family,” Ambrosine said.
“No,” Agnes said. “We weren’t even allowed to mention the Byrne name. Eneas would sometimes slip and give me little details, but nothing concrete. Nothing that made her feel real.”
There was a darkening in Ambrosine’s eyes at the mention of Eneas, but then her expression smoothed out. “She was very real, I promise you that,” she said. “And she loved you very much.”
“She never even knew me,” Agnes said.
“She held you in her arms,” Ambrosine said softly. “And kissed your tiny little hands and whispered your name.”
“But . . .” Agnes tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “But how could you know that? Leo and I were born in Kaolin, in some private facility outside Old Port.”
Ambrosine traced the pattern on the arm of her chair with a finger. “No,” she said. “You were not. You were born right here, on this estate.”
If her own chair were to suddenly swallow her up, Agnes could not have been more surprised. She . . . was born . . . in Pelago.