She reached the end of the dock and peered over its edge, her fingers lighting up as she called for Errol. The mertag’s head popped out of the water as if he’d been waiting for her.
“Good morning, Sera Lighthaven,” he said.
“Good morning,” Sera replied cheerfully. She’d come every morning to speak to him, before anyone else was awake. She did not want Ambrosine to know she could talk to mertags or Arboreals. It was bad enough Hektor had seen her in the grove with the sprite-Boris.
“When are we making sail for Braxos?” Errol asked.
Sera sighed. “I don’t know. I would leave today if I could. But we don’t have a ship any longer.”
Errol’s colors flashed in sad gray-greens. “No, the small boat is not in the water anymore. The humans must have brought it on land.” He cocked his head. “My family thinks I am crazy to try and take you to Braxos.”
“Why?” Sera asked. “Because it is dangerous?”
Errol let out his croaking laugh. “Dangerous? No, Braxos is not dangerous to mertags. There is nothing in these waters that can harm us. The human family who lives on Culinnon—they do not like us to leave. Keep to the waters around Culinnon, protect the island from unknown faces, unknown ships. It is all we have ever done. Not Errol, though. Errol likes to stretch his fins and explore the seas.” The corners of his mouth turned down. “That is how Errol was caught. Too far out, too far away. A foolish mertag.”
“If you had not been caught I never would have met you,” Sera said.
That made him brighten. “Too true, Sera Lighthaven!”
Sera wondered if perhaps the mertags were in a similar situation to the Arboreals—trapped on this one island when they were meant to swim the seas.
There was a creak of wood and Sera jumped. Agnes was walking down the dock, wrapped in a thick sweater with a big woolen scarf around her neck.
“I thought I might find you here,” she said with a grin.
She took a piece of dried apricot out of her pocket and tossed it at Errol, who caught it in a flash.
“Agnes is always giving Errol food,” Errol said happily.
Sera laughed. “You deserve it,” she told him. “You got her and Vada here, safe and quick.”
Errol puffed out his chest. “I would do the same for any friend of Sera Lighthaven.”
Agnes curled up beside Sera on the dock. “It’s nice here,” she said. “Quiet.”
Her brow furrowed and Sera knew what she was thinking.
“Has Ambrosine talked any more to you about her plans to rule the northern islands?”
Agnes shivered. “No. I think she realized she might have told me all that a bit too soon. I mean, I only just got here.”
“She must have been thinking about it for a very long time,” Sera said. “So it was hard for her to wait once she saw you.”
“I didn’t come here to be a princess,” Agnes said. “We’re supposed to be getting you to Braxos and here we are, touring Culinnon like we’re on vacation. I get that she wants me to feel some connection with it, but that’s not why I’m here.”
“I’m not sure your grandmother is the type to much care what others wish to do,” Sera said.
“No,” Agnes agreed, scratching her ear. “She’s sort of like my father that way.” She chewed on her lower lip. “A princess,” she muttered. “Why would she think that’s something I would ever want?”
“She doesn’t know you,” Sera pointed out gently. “Only the idea of you. Perhaps in time, she’ll learn. Your place is at the university. She’ll have to accept that.”
Agnes nodded, but there was no conviction in it, and even Sera herself did not believe her own words.
“A ship!” Errol cried out. “A ship is coming, Sera Lighthaven.”
Sera was on her knees in an instant. “Whose ship?” she asked. She saw a trail of lights in the water and listened to the other mertags, passing along the message in a chain of color.
“Ship, ship, ship,” they said. “Friend not foe, friend not foe.”
And then, “Family, family, family.”
“What are they saying?” Agnes asked.
“A ship is coming,” Sera said. She stood and peered out across the water and sure enough, in the distance but growing closer, was the outline of a mast blossoming with three sails.
Agnes scrambled to her feet. “The Renalt?”
“Family,” Sera told her. “That’s what they said.”
The mertags were swarming, their colors flashing wordlessly. The ship drew closer—she could see a flag flying the five stars of the Lekke and her heart seized up, but it was the Renalt who was after Ambrosine, and besides, the mertags were letting the ship pass. It was sailing very fast, its slender, narrow body cutting through the water.
There was someone standing on the prow, and as the ship came closer, Agnes clapped her hands to her chest.
“Matthias,” she gasped.
Servants came rushing out of the estate at the sight of the ship, calling out orders to each other, and someone ran to fetch Ambrosine. Sailors jumped down from the rails and landed deftly on the dock, Agnes and Sera stumbling out of their way so they could tie up the ship.
Matthias wore a slate-colored cloak and heavy woolen pants, high boots laced up over them. He had thinning red hair and very pale eyes and there was something distinctly educated about him.
He strode down the gangplank, cloak flapping in the wind. “Agnes,” he said, smiling broadly. “You made it.” He turned to Sera and there was a brief flicker of shock before he gave her a deep bow. “You must be the friend she told me about.”
“I am Sera Lighthaven,” Sera said.
“Matthias Byrne, at your service.” His gaze was keen as he took her in. “My mother must be ecstatic over you.”
“Matthias.” Ambrosine stood at the end of the dock, swathed in ermine, Hektor and a handful of Misarros behind her. The sailors parted to let her through.
“Mother,” Matthias said.
She looked up at his ship and her lips curled. “How kind of the Lekke to lend you a clipper. Such a nice reward for all your years of work.”
“The Lekke is very generous,” Matthias replied.
“What are you doing here?” Hektor demanded.
“Lovely to see you too, brother,” Matthias said.
“Hektor speaks the truth,” Ambrosine said. “I seem to recall you vowing never to return to this island again, or some such dramatic nonsense.”
Matthias flinched but stood his ground. “Desperate times, Mother,” he said. “You’ve made it rather impossible to be a Byrne in Ithilia at the moment, what with your penchant for attacking the Triumvirate personally.”
Ambrosine waved a hand. “It was they who did the attacking first,” she said. “Absconding with my grandson like he was a piece of cargo. And dear Sera as well. Have you met Sera? She and Leo are absolutely devoted to each other. And Agnes, of course, you know Agnes. She told me you showed her the archives.”
Matthias’s nostrils flared. “The archives are open to everyone.” He sounded faintly exasperated, as if he’d explained this more than once.