Agnes ran her finger over the glass, tracing her mother’s form. She looked so alive, so vibrant. She commanded the attention of everyone at the table. There was even an older woman at a neighboring table who was staring at her.

“She’s laughing in the photograph I have of her too,” Agnes said.

“She loved to laugh,” Matthias said. “She loved to sing and be loud and break the rules. She reveled in being different. Hektor resented her for it. Father indulged her because of it. Mother . . .” He shook his head. “Well, Mother wanted her to be exactly like Mother. And she wasn’t. Not even a little.”

“What did you think about her?” Agnes asked.

Matthias cleared his throat. “She was my best friend,” he said tightly. “She understood that I did not want the things a Byrne was meant to want.”

“Things like what?” Agnes asked.

Matthias moved some more books and sat on his desk. “I’m surprised your Pelagan friend here did not tell you of my family’s reputation.”

“I told her they were rich and powerful,” Vada said with a shrug. “I don’t concern myself with the affairs of the Byrnes very much. As long as I have a ship to sail and cargo to sell, the Byrnes and the Triumvirate can have as many pissing contests as they like.”

Matthias chuckled. “Yes, that’s a very apt way to describe it.” He turned on the lamp as the light began to fade from the sky. “The Byrne family is one of the oldest in Pelago, and certainly the wealthiest. The northern islands are devoted to us, but the Triumvirate has always resented my family’s power. Byrnes have been known to be ruthless. There is a story my mother loves to tell of my great-grandmother, Aileen Byrne, who was tricked by a healing woman into buying a tonic that would supposedly give her everlasting life. The tonic was just lemon juice and spices, and when Aileen discovered this treachery, she had the woman’s tongue and eyes cut out.”

Agnes gasped. “Is that true?”

Matthias shrugged. “It’s a good story. And it is certainly effective. My family has held on to our power through a mix of money, mystique, and intimidation. And Culinnon lies at its heart. I wish I could . . .” He made a sort of strangled choking sound and sighed. “No, I cannot explain it to you. You will have to see it for yourself. The island possesses a sort of . . . well, I hesitate to use the word magic; it sounds so implausible.”

Agnes and Vada exchanged a look.

“No,” Agnes said. “It doesn’t. Not to us.”

Matthias scratched the bald spot on his head. “Very well—there’s something about it that once you leave, you cannot form the words to describe it accurately. I suppose it is one of the island’s ways of protecting itself.”