Agnes felt as if a cube of ice had just slipped down her spine. She was still getting accustomed to the idea of an inheritance, and now she had two uncles she’d never known who would be angry at her for it? Agnes had always been aware that she didn’t know very much about her mother’s family, but she was beginning to understand the sheer breadth of information her father had kept from her.

Leo gripped the table, his knuckles white. “This is . . . wow, Agnes. Do you think Father knows?”

It was the first time either of them had mentioned their father out loud, and Agnes flinched. But Xavier McLellan was miles away, across the Adronic Ocean—she did not have to live under his roof, or abide by his rules, and Agnes would not let herself be frightened by him anymore. Her mother had left her an island. In Pelago. Suddenly, Agnes’s heart lifted. She would never have to leave this country. She belonged here.

“Oh, he knows,” Phebe said, and Agnes was surprised to see Vada nodding. “Marriage contracts in Pelago are not taken lightly. I do not know the details of your mother’s, of course, but regardless of her choice of husband, there is no way either she or Ambrosine would allow Culinnon to pass to anyone but Alethea’s firstborn daughter. If it wasn’t made clear enough to Xavier when they married, it certainly would have been once Alethea became pregnant.”

“This is true,” Vada said. “My mama had no marriage contract, but it is written that I will inherit the Maiden’s Wail upon her death.”

“There is something else,” Phebe said. “Something you both must see.” She turned to Leo with a faintly pleased expression. “You aren’t quite as arrogant as Eneas used to describe in his letters. He pitied you, pitied the hold your father had over you. But he loved you too. Both of you.” A tear shone in her eye. “He loved you like you were his own.”

She stood and left the room, leaving the four of them looking at each other, confused.

Vada let out a low whistle. “Culinnon,” she said.

“It certainly tops inheriting the brownstone on Creekwater Row,” Leo said. Agnes couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or hiding jealousy with sarcasm. She hoped it was the former.

“It doesn’t get us any closer to Braxos,” Agnes said.

“It might,” Vada said. “The passages are closed, but maybe not for you. Why would Ambrosine Byrne deny her own granddaughter?”

“Do you think she’s found Braxos already, like the papers say?” Agnes asked.

“No,” Vada said. “I think if she had found it, the world would be knowing. Whatever is on that island, I do not think any person, Kaolin or Pelagan, would be able to be keeping it secret.”

Phebe returned clutching a paper yellowed with age. “Here,” she said, handing it to Agnes.