“No,” Leo said, stepping in front of Sera. He seemed to realize his mistake immediately. Rowen pulled a knife from the assortment that were strapped around her waist.

“She will remove the headdress or it will be removed for her,” she said.

“Come now, Rowen, there is no need for threats,” Eireen said. “I’m sure the girl does not mind. All one has to do is ask nicely.” She turned to Sera. “You don’t mind taking that off so we may see what I am certain is a beautiful face, do you, my dear?”

Sera seemed to have sensed that this, too, was not a request, because she stood and placed a hand on Leo’s arm. With careful, deliberate movements, Sera lifted the headdress, her blue hair spilling down her back, her silver skin glowing richly in the light of the candles. Eireen let out a cry of shock but Rowen froze, regarding Sera with a mixture of surprise and disgust.

“What devilry is this?” she hissed. “Have you thought to craft some . . . some replica of Saifa to seize power? What sort of heresy are you Kaolins capable of?”

“She’s not Saifa and she’s not a replica,” Leo said. “She has nothing to do with Pelago or Kaolin.”

“Then would you be so kind as to explain exactly . . . what . . . she is?” Eireen asked, clearly struggling to maintain her composure.

He pressed his lips together. “I can’t tell you that.”

Rowen’s nostrils flared. “You will both come with us.”

“Rowen,” Eireen snapped, but Sera stepped forward, her face oddly serene.

“Tell them we will go with them willingly,” she said to Leo. “Tell them there is no need for knives or violence. We can’t let them have Agnes, Leo. And we don’t want to put Phebe or Vada in danger either.”

“What is she saying?” Rowen demanded. “What language is that?”

Agnes felt her throat tighten, her stomach lurch. Was she just going to stay here and let the Misarros take them? But if she declared who she was, they’d only take her too.

“We’ll go with you,” Leo said. “No one needs to get hurt.”

“Excellent!” Eireen exclaimed. “The princess will be delighted. And with such an unusual guest as well.” Something raw and hungry flickered in her eyes. “I simply cannot wait to hear her story.”

There was an undercurrent of threat in her words that sent icy shivers up Agnes’s neck. But she felt glued to the bench. Eireen gestured them to the door—neither looked back at Agnes or Vada as they left, though Agnes saw Sera reach out and take Leo’s arm as if to steady herself. Rowen stalked after them and Eireen turned to Phebe.

“A thousand apologies for the interruption, mistress,” she said. “Do enjoy the rest of your evening.”