SEVERAL DAYS AFTER AGNES’S ARRIVAL, SERA WOKE EARLY and crept down to the dock.

She was slowly learning her way around the estate, the glass halls and winding stairs and huge sequoias becoming familiar. She, Leo, Vada, and Agnes had explored much of the island—Hektor took them to where the Misarros’ ships were docked on the eastern side, Ambrosine showed them the vineyards on the western slopes, and once Bellamy even led them to a place she said was her favorite, a cave with walls that glittered with quartz in an array of colors, emerald and ruby and amethyst. It reminded Sera of the stargem mines. And at the very back of the cave was a hot spring, the water black and steaming.

Sera was growing impatient, though. Vada and Agnes had arrived with a ship but Ambrosine had sent it off for “maintenance,” whatever that meant. They were so close to Braxos, she could feel it in her blood and in the way the moonstone shimmered against her skin, and yet she had no way of getting there without Ambrosine’s help; and for all of her promises, that help did not seem forthcoming.

Agnes had told them about Matthias and the university and Xavier showing up in Ithilia—that had come as a great shock—and Leo had told her about their own journey and the war that was beginning and the queen who was pursuing Ambrosine. Sera had added her own stories, of the self blood bond and the memories and her ability to speak human languages—Vada had been so excited to understand her at last. And she had been thrilled to learn that Agnes and Vada were together—Leo had been surprised by his sister’s newfound relationship, but admitted to Sera privately that it actually made sense to him now when he thought back on certain things from their days in Old Port. And he was happy to see Agnes happy. Culinnon felt like a little bubble, Sera thought, but its safety was a mirage. The outside world was in turmoil.

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.”