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Back The Alcazar Save as PDF
Chapters (51)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Map
  4. Part One
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. Part Two
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. Part Three
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. Part Four
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. Part Five
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. Part Six
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. Acknowledgments
  48. About the Author
  49. Books by Amy Ewing
  50. Back Ad
  51. About the Publisher

At that, Rahel’s sweet, innocent eyes narrowed, her whole face turning feral. “Eireen!” she screamed.

And Sera knew something awful was going to happen.

14

Agnes

PHEBE’S BOAT WAS DOCKED ON AN INLET NORTH OF THE market, away from the bustling seaport of Arbaz; it was no more than a sloop with a single tiny cabin.

She led Agnes and Vada down narrow streets lit with simple gas lamps that wound up hills and through small squares. To get to the inlet they had to descend a set of steep stone stairs carved into the hillside. Phebe had brought a lantern and the light swung and swayed in the sharp breeze, casting strange shadows that made Agnes jumpy. She took each step with deliberate care, the stone unnervingly smooth beneath her feet.

Agnes couldn’t stop her pulse from racing, her palms sweating, feeling like too much time had passed since the Misarros had taken her brother and Sera. Vada put a hand on her shoulder and Agnes’s heart somersaulted despite her fear.

“Ambrosine is waiting for you, remember,” she said. “And now Phebe is lending us a boat. Once we get to Ithilia, we will find her. If anyone can stand up to the Triumvirate, it is Ambrosine Byrne.”

Agnes fingered the letter in her pocket, nestled beside the photograph of her mother. Vada was right—her grandmother knew she was coming.

When they reached the sloop, Vada got straight to work readying it to sail. Phebe had packed them food and extra clothes in leather satchels, and Agnes stored them in the cabin. A cloud passed over the moon, the only light from Phebe’s lantern, the only sound the waves lapping against the sides of the sloop.

“She doesn’t look like much,” Phebe said, holding up the light. “But she’s a good ship. She was my mother’s—she was the true sailor of the family.”

“She’ll be fast,” Vada said. “And that’s just what we need. What is her name?”

“The Palma,” Phebe said. “After my grandmother.”

“Thank you for helping us,” Agnes said. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Phebe touched her cheek, a surprisingly maternal gesture. “Good luck, Agnes Byrne. You are as brave as your mother was, and I can give no higher praise than that.”

Agnes felt a tingle run up her spine at the sound of her mother’s last name and hers together. Vada helped her into the sloop—it rocked unsteadily under her feet and she gripped the side to keep her balance.

“Best if you stay seated, little lion,” Vada said as she pushed off the boat and hopped in, letting out the mainsail and angling the tiller so that the sloop cut through the waves, swift and sure. Soon Phebe’s lantern was no more than a speck of light in the distance.

“We’ve got to go back to the docks,” Agnes said suddenly.