Phebe gave her a gentle look. “Don’t fear, child. He is fine. I received a letter from him—he left Old Port not a day after you did to return to Pelago. He felt it altogether too dangerous to stay in the city. Now that he had helped you escape, he could not risk working for your father anymore.”

Agnes exhaled. “Oh, that’s wonderful news.”

Phebe’s dark eyes turned to Sera. “And you must be Sera. Leo told me all about you.”

Sera felt the time for hiding her face was over. She carefully lifted off the headdress and Phebe gasped, one hand flying to her chest.

“In the name of the goddesses,” she murmured. “You do look just like Saifa.”

“I am no goddess,” Sera said. “I am a Cerulean.”

Phebe’s eyes grew wide at what must have sounded to her like musical gibberish—that was how Agnes had described Sera’s voice before they blood bonded and were able to understand each other. Leo translated for her now. Sera clenched her teeth in frustration. There had to be a way to communicate without the help of translators or the dangerous intimacy of blood bonding.

“You said that before, in the market. Cerulean.” She sounded it out as if unsure. “I still don’t know what that means, but you are welcome in my home, Cerulean or Saifa or whoever you may be. Come, you must be starv—”

But she was cut off by a young boy scampering into the room.

“Mama, Mama!” he said, tears in his eyes. “Parisa took my—” He stopped and frowned. “Why you speaking Kaolish, Mama?”

Sera could never tell who was speaking what language since they all sounded the same to her. She thought it very kind of Phebe to speak to Leo and Agnes in their native tongue. But now she realized it was also dangerous—and even more dangerous for this little boy to see a goddess in his house. Quickly she put the headdress back on.

“Carrick, go back to the kitchen to your father,” Phebe said sharply. “Mama has visitors, I told you that before.”

A wiry man with pale skin and long hair the color of honey came hurrying in, an infant squealing and stretching in his arms.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, taking the boy’s arm. “He got away from me. I’ll—”

But he stopped short at the sight of Leo and gasped. “He looks exactly like her.”

“I told you,” Phebe replied.

“Princess Rahel?” Carrick asked, looking up at Sera. “Mama, you bring princess home?”

“No, darling, these are Mama’s friends,” Phebe said. “Princesses don’t come to dressmakers’ houses; she came to my shop like I was telling you, remember?”

Carrick smiled at Sera smugly. “My mama is famous,” he said.

Phebe shot her husband a pleading look. “Get him to bed, Davin.”

“Did you see the evening papers?” the man asked.