“She met my son Matthias—he is the university librarian.” She said it as if it were something to be ashamed of. “There was another girl her age traveling with her.”

“Vada,” Leo said with relief.

“It appears they have a ship. They would certainly have heard of my attack on Rahel and my rescuing of you and Sera. Matthias would know I am headed to Culinnon. Let us hope he has instructed them to sail here at once.”

She didn’t sound certain, Leo was surprised to hear. From what he’d gathered from his time on the galleon, Ambrosine commanded ironclad obedience from everyone around her, her family most especially.

“That’s great news,” he said.

“There was a war council as well,” she continued. “The Triumvirate has voted. Three to zero. War has been declared on Kaolin.” She grinned wickedly. “Even the Lekke, after all this time, has finally found her backbone.” She slapped her thigh. “But that’s not all, Leo. The Renalt has left Banrissa!”

“And that’s . . . good?”

Ambrosine’s displeasure showed in the faintest pursing of her lips. “Of course you wouldn’t know, your hateful father and his hateful ways. The queens rarely leave Banrissa, usually only for ceremonies or the occasional holiday. But she has taken her warships. She is coming after me.”

Leo felt that the news of being hunted down personally by a queen should not have been said with such eager anticipation.

“The Triumvirate is fracturing even as we sit here sipping our coffee,” Ambrosine said. “Oh, it is better than I could have ever hoped. I should have sunk Rahel’s ridiculous pleasure ship years ago.” Then she frowned. “No, I was right to wait. Agnes is coming.” She looked up at Leo like she’d forgotten him. “And you are here too! And Sera. No, my patience has paid off.”

“Great,” Leo said, though inside he felt queasy. Ambrosine had not been entirely able to hide her disappointment that Leo was not Agnes—he knew she’d rather have his sister here than him. For all her talk of the importance of family, it was the women who really mattered, not the men. Every night at dinner they had been treated to a new story about some Byrne matriarch or other, of brutal punishments meted out to enemies or heroic deeds of exploration and advancement. “I’ll leave you to dress. We are nearly at Culinnon.”

“We are?” For the past two days there had been nothing except sky and sea stretching out around them. In the beginning of the journey they had seen the coastlines of other islands, the waters dotted with ships. But the farther north they went, the colder it got and the emptier the ocean became.

Ambrosine gazed out his porthole. “I can always feel when it’s close,” she murmured. “It calls to me.”