“I always thought Eneas was exaggerating,” she said, leaning forward to rest her head in her hands. “That complete and utter bastard.” Then she sat up, adjusted a seashell pin in her hair, and said, “Culinnon is an island owned by the Byrne family. It is their home and the seat of their power, the most mysterious island in all of Pelago, at least until Braxos was discovered. Besides the fact that here, people do not own entire islands—not even the Triumvirate families—no one is allowed to set foot on Culinnon without Ambrosine Byrne’s express permission. It is said to contain wealth beyond anything known in this world, and those who are fortunate enough to have walked its shores leave never being able to speak of it again, or reveal what they saw there, beyond a few hazy descriptions. Eneas could never even tell me about its wonders and he lived and worked there from when he was a young boy until the day Alethea moved to Ithilia. It is guarded by Ambrosine’s own personal force of Misarros, but stories say there are other, more powerful methods of protection put in place. Culinnon is a living legend, as ancient and formidable as the goddesses of Talmanism.”

It all sounded fascinating and frightening at the same time, Sera thought. Then Phebe turned and fixed Agnes with penetrating look.

“And it will be yours, Agnes,” she said. “By birthright. When Ambrosine Byrne dies, Culinnon will pass to you.”

5

Agnes

AGNES COULD FEEL EVERYONE’S EYES ON HER, FEEL THE blankness on her own face as her heart pounded out a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

She could acknowledge the words Phebe was saying, but when put together in that order, they made no sense. Inherit an island? And not just any island but a secret, powerful one that she hadn’t even known existed until this very moment?

All the years she’d yearned for her mother, she’d never considered that Alethea might have left her something. Sera was gazing at her wide-eyed, Leo’s jaw appeared to have become permanently unhinged, and even Vada seemed dumbstruck.

“I am being furious with myself for not making this connection,” Vada said, shaking her head slowly, as if in a daze. “I thought Culinnon would be going to what’s-his-name, the oldest son . . . Hektor. I am forgetting Alethea left a daughter.”

“Why . . . me?” Agnes managed to croak out. “My grandmother doesn’t even know me.”

“In Pelago, names and titles and property pass through the mother,” Phebe explained. “Alethea was Ambrosine’s only daughter, and her eldest child. When Alethea died, Ambrosine was left with sons, two of them.” Phebe grimaced. “Vada is right, Hektor likely assumed that he would be inheriting Culinnon, since Alethea’s heir is half Kaolin and was living in Old Port City. He will not be pleased to hear you are in Pelago.”