Be careful around your grandmother. Try to see things as they are, not how you wish them to be.

Leo shifted in his seat and took a sip of tea. It tasted of chamomile and lemongrass. When he looked up, his grandmother was watching him with the same expression as when she’d first seen him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, leaning back into her chair. “You just . . .”

“I know,” Leo said. He didn’t need to be told again how much he looked like his mother. Though it did feel different, coming from Ambrosine.

“It’s almost like she’s alive again,” she said, turning away to hide her face in a sip of tea. “Almost.” Leo didn’t know what to say to that. When she turned back, she was composed.

“How do you think your father is handling the news of his children gone, his empire shattered, his most prized possession fled?”

“You knew?” Leo asked. “About the play? You knew about Sera already?”

She let out a biting, humorless laugh. “Don’t look so surprised; I make it my business to know the happenings in Kaolin, especially anything that concerns my grandchildren and that man.” She spat out the word like it was vulgar. “I saw her picture in the Old Port Telegraph, an advertisement for Xavier’s final production. Though I admit I did not think much of her, assuming she was some marketing prank of your father’s. Thankfully no one in Pelago cares about the goings-on in Kaolin. I am one of the few who reads the Old Port papers.” She cocked her head. “Your Pelagan is very good. I’m shocked your father allowed you to learn it.”

Leo shook his head. “He didn’t. The sailor Agnes befriended, the one who brought us to Arbaz. Vada. She taught us on the way.”

“Did she teach Sera as well?”

“No,” he said. “That’s just . . . a part of who she is.” He decided not to mention how recent a development it was.

“And she is linked to Braxos.”

Leo had never thought of it like the two were linked. “That’s one way to put it.” He tried then to explain who Sera was without giving away too much information. He had to admit, it was impressive that his grandmother didn’t flinch at the mention of a city in space.

“I’ve heard a great many strange tales in my life,” she said. “But never one about a Cerulean.” She sat back and crossed one leg over the other.

“Will you help us get her to Braxos?” Leo asked.

For a moment, Ambrosine was lost in thought. She added more honey to her tea and stared at the portrait on the wall as she stirred. “Yes,” she murmured. “I will help you.”

Leo’s head swam with relief. “Thank you.”