“Ugh,” Leo said, and Vada laughed as she ducked underneath a thin sheet of colored silk hung between two apothecaries, pungent herbal smells emanating from their open doors. Leo followed and found himself in a row of tents dyed in shades of lilac and lavender and violet. Pants were folded neatly on tables inside one, shirts hanging in another, and a third had the most stunning collection of dresses Leo had ever seen. There were tents selling seashell headdresses and ones displaying all types of shoes and still others with a wide selection of scarves.

“This,” Vada said, spreading out her arms wide, “is the best place to buy clothes in all the market. The question is where to start. . . .”

“Agnes will want pants,” he said. “Something comfortable and functional.”

Vada nodded. “We can dress her to have the look of the daughter of a merchant or a wealthy sea captain or a high-placed servant.” She glanced at him. “Perhaps servant is working best for our scheme.”

His sister wouldn’t like the servant part, but she’d be happy about the pants. “What about Sera?” he asked.

Vada’s brow furrowed. “If anyone sees her skin or her hair it will cause a fuss and we are not needing fusses right now. . . .”

They passed down the line of tents and stopped abruptly at a pair of Misarros with golden suns on their chests patrolling the outside of the fanciest tent in the whole row. Ofairn’s Fine Gowns, Leo translated as he read the sign above it, right before Vada pulled him back. But there were Misarros behind the tent as well. Vada cursed under her breath and, in a movement so fluid Leo barely registered it, sank to grab a knife hidden in her boot and cut a long, delicate slit in the tent. She slipped inside and pulled him in after her.

The dresses that hung on the walls were shimmering things of lace and silk, all expertly tailored, some with long sleeves, some strapless, some adorned with shells or beads, others with what Leo realized were river stones, pebbles in shades of periwinkle and slate and olive. The tent itself was empty except for a lone girl, maybe fifteen, with brown skin, copper-colored hair, and big doe eyes. She was clearly in for a fitting, wearing a dress that covered her completely in head-to-toe lace.

To Leo’s surprise, Vada made a sort of choking sound and then fell to one knee, nudging him with her elbow to do the same.

“Princess Rahel,” she said. “We did not . . . I am sorry . . . we were just . . .”

Leo had never seen the sailor so out of sorts; at the same moment his mind was registering her words. Princess?