“I’m so glad Eneas is okay,” Agnes said as they took seats on the benches. “I was worried.”
“Phebe seemed quite accepting of Sera,” Leo said. “That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”
“She is one person and was prepared for her,” Vada said. “I do not think we would be getting the same reaction in the market.”
Sera agreed.
“What did her husband mean about the newspapers?” Agnes asked. Sera had noticed that too.
“We should have been buying one when we first arrived,” Vada said. “But with the Misarros and Dorinda and Princess Rahel, I forgot.”
Sera wanted to know more about this princess they’d seen, but Phebe returned then and a most familiar and delicious scent filled the air.
“Fried squash blossoms,” she said, placing a platter on the table. “An old Ofairn recipe. And here are some dates dipped in honey and stuffed with blue cheese. We would have made lamb but Leo tells me you are vegetarian. I’ll be right back with the main course.”
The squash blossoms were not quite the same as the ones she was used to—the flowers were orange, not yellow, and they did not seem as crispy. But hot tears filled Sera’s eyes at the sight of them.
“Are you all right?” Leo asked.
“They remind me of the ones my green mother used to make for me,” she said. “They were my favorite.”
Agnes squeezed her hand under the table.
“Right,” Phebe said, returning with a large dish of steaming butternut squash, sliced in half with its insides scooped out, filled with farro and onions, feta cheese and dried cherries. It all looked agonizingly good. “Let’s eat, shall we?”
Sera piled her plate with as much food as it could hold, and for many long minutes there was no sound but chewing and swallowing and the occasional gulp of water. When at last their bellies were full, Phebe pushed her plate back and let out a contented sigh.
“Well,” she said. “I’m told you are all trying to get to Braxos, but the details were a bit vague back in the market. Not that I blame you. It’s dangerous to speak of such things in public now. Especially with a princess so close by.” She gave Leo a wry look. “Rahel was quite taken with you.”
This rankled Sera, though she wasn’t quite sure why, but then Agnes launched into an explanation of everything—how they had found Sera in the plains of Kaolin, how her father had put her into his final play, the escape to the Seaport, and the journey to Pelago. She did not mention the power of Sera’s blood or the tether, only that they believed that the way to return Sera to her home was to get her to the ruins of Braxos.
“And we need to stop in Ithilia first,” Agnes said breathlessly. “I’ve got an interview at the university. My grandmother is expecting me there.”
“That will be difficult,” Phebe said. “I’ve heard it’s even worse in Ithilia than it is here—you will be hard-pressed to find docking there. I would be shocked if Ambrosine was in the city, with the way she’s been aggravating the Triumvirate.” She glanced at Leo again. “You’re lucky Rahel was taken with you.”
“We heard something in the market,” Leo said. “About closed passages?”
Phebe got up and walked over to the coffee table, returning with a newspaper.
AMBROSINE BYRNE CLOSES PASSAGES TO LOST ISLANDS, the headline screamed. And beneath it read,
In violation of Triumvirate orders, the matriarch of the infamous Byrne family has closed the passages around the elusive island of Culinnon, the most direct routes to the Lost Islands. Rumor has it she is pressing her northern allies to do the same. Does this mean Ambrosine Byrne has found Braxos herself? Are the bodies washing up on the shores of Brilsin and Adereen the result of failed attempts to find this mysterious island—or is there a more sinister reason behind these deaths? Could Ambrosine be protecting her newest treasure? This reporter thinks it’s high time the Byrnes were reminded that they do not control the northern islands—that all of Pelago is under the rule of the Triumvirate. Just how the Aerin, the Lekke, and the Renalt decide to deal with this affront to their power remains to be seen, but one thing is certain: The island of Braxos is stretching this country to a breaking point. And the Kaolins flooding our ports are only making matters worse. President Vance of Kaolin has sent a furious letter to the Triumvirate demanding release of all Kaolin prisoners being held in Pelagan jails. It would be impossible to imagine the Triumvirate giving in to these demands, so the question then is—what will Kaolin’s response be? Could this mean war?
Sera read the last word with a lump in her throat. War.
“This is bad,” Leo said.
“It is worse than I was thinking,” Vada agreed.
“What’s Culinnon?” Agnes asked.
“Yeah, I’ve heard the name before,” Leo said. “I mean, I get that it’s an island, but what’s so special about it?”
“When did you hear about it?” Agnes demanded.
“Back in Old Port, after that dinner with Elizabeth Conway and her friend,” Leo said, rubbing his temple like the memory was fuzzy. “And the woman who changed our money said something about it in the market.”
Phebe looked from Agnes to Leo as if trying to decide whether the twins were pulling her leg.
“You . . . neither of you know about Culinnon?” she asked. “He never told you?”
“Who? Told us what?” Agnes said.
“I always thought Eneas was exaggerating,” she said, leaning forward to rest her head in her hands. “That complete and utter bastard.” Then she sat up, adjusted a seashell pin in her hair, and said, “Culinnon is an island owned by the Byrne family. It is their home and the seat of their power, the most mysterious island in all of Pelago, at least until Braxos was discovered. Besides the fact that here, people do not own entire islands—not even the Triumvirate families—no one is allowed to set foot on Culinnon without Ambrosine Byrne’s express permission. It is said to contain wealth beyond anything known in this world, and those who are fortunate enough to have walked its shores leave never being able to speak of it again, or reveal what they saw there, beyond a few hazy descriptions. Eneas could never even tell me about its wonders and he lived and worked there from when he was a young boy until the day Alethea moved to Ithilia. It is guarded by Ambrosine’s own personal force of Misarros, but stories say there are other, more powerful methods of protection put in place. Culinnon is a living legend, as ancient and formidable as the goddesses of Talmanism.”
It all sounded fascinating and frightening at the same time, Sera thought. Then Phebe turned and fixed Agnes with penetrating look.
“And it will be yours, Agnes,” she said. “By birthright. When Ambrosine Byrne dies, Culinnon will pass to you.”
5
Agnes
AGNES COULD FEEL EVERYONE’S EYES ON HER, FEEL THE blankness on her own face as her heart pounded out a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
She could acknowledge the words Phebe was saying, but when put together in that order, they made no sense. Inherit an island? And not just any island but a secret, powerful one that she hadn’t even known existed until this very moment?