Settling in the armchair with his book, Alec pulled the candle stand closer and flipped the pages. At first he paid more attention to the drawings than the hard-to-read text. Netheli ä Sera had painted, as well, and he discovered several delightful miniature scenes. One was recognizable as the view from the front of the house over the pond, and another looked like Deep Harbor as it must have been centuries ago. There were several studies of children’s faces, with blue eyes that seemed to look at him over the years with disconcerting interest. Near the front of the book he found another portrait, this one of a man who was clearly Aurënfaie, with the fine features and high cheekbones of his race. The artist had only hinted at clothing—some sort of black robe, thought Alec—but the face and head were painted in loving detail. His hair was a lighter brown than Seregil’s and braided in the front into long, thin plaits on either side of his face. But he had the same storm-grey eyes; Lady Netheli had captured the color perfectly. The entry associated with it was brief but ecstatic.

Slept in the dreaming cave and saw my handsome Aurënfaie prince again. If only I could learn his name, I might discover his history, but still he greets me with silence, looking yearningly through me like so much empty air, as if there is someone beloved standing just behind me. Then he became so grim he frightened me. I could not look away and watched as he disappeared weeping.

The “dreaming cave” must be part of the oracle’s shrine, Alec supposed. He flipped through the journal, looking for another picture of the man or another mention. Instead, in the back he found a portrait in ink that sent a chill up his spine. It was the face of the ghostly woman he’d seen last night, complete with shells in her hair.

Holding the book closer to the candle, he puzzled out the brief entry that accompanied it.

She came to me again last night and I fear for my dear children. Syana and I are the only ones left here, apart from the servants. I pray Illior she comes for me this time, and not my precious girl! I am sending Syana back to Cirna tomorrow morning. Lightbearer, I beg you, protect us through this foul stormy night.

Perhaps the drowned woman had come for poor Netheli, after all. Turning the page, Alec found that the rest of the journal was blank. Badly unsettled, he set it aside and watched Seregil sleep.

Seregil stirred as the sky began to brighten outside the window.

“It’s early,” Alec told him. “You should go back to sleep.”

Seregil sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. “I feel like I’ve been dragged through a knothole backward, but I’m wide awake. Did you sleep?”