“Yes. The king’s blood-sister will stand in for her while she’s away. My mother had a vision of the future. She will be departing by boat.”

“She seeks Fusang,” Sureya whispered reverently. “I am sorry. In your religion, it is called the Deep Fathoms.”

Trynne cocked her head. “Yes. How did you know?”

Sureya grew more excited. “There is a legend in our culture. Over a thousand years ago, a traveler came to the emperor’s palace claiming to have crossed the sea. He had discovered Fusang, the place between the worlds. One can only reach it by sea. The dead go there. But so can the living, those whom Fusang summons. There is a tree there full of different fruit. One of them grants immortality. When the emperor learned of it, he sent his chief Wizr, Xu Fu, with a fleet of ships to discover it. He never returned. They say that Xu Fu did find it and that he took the fruit of immortality for himself. That he is still alive. That he serves the people in secret and travels the world in disguise, advising kings and emperors and warning them to hearken to the Fountain. They say the tree with the fruit is the source of the Fountain. That water gushes from its roots.”

Trynne had never heard these tales, but they ignited her imagination.

“Thank you, yet again,” Trynne said, feeling brightened by the news. Maybe the Deep Fathoms was trying to help them? She had feared her mother wouldn’t return from the journey.

Sureya cast her eyes down. “The other girls have said that Grand Duke Elwis is the best warrior in all Ceredigion now. Many have cast their eyes on him, and it is said he is not unhandsome.” She swallowed, growing more subdued. “Is he . . . is he pleased that women are becoming warriors? Many men frown upon us.”

“I will have to ask him when I meet with him,” Trynne said with a sly smile. She suspected that Elwis had left an impression on the princess.

The smells on the beach of glass beads were familiar and soothing. The wind tousled Trynne’s hair, and she brushed aside the strands as she watched her mother and Gannon walk hand in hand. Her mother’s blond hair fanned out, so lovely and full. She was still heartbreakingly beautiful. There was so much Trynne admired her for—her gentleness, how quickly she responded to the needs of other realms, and her conviction in the Fountain’s direction.

Trynne would miss her sorely.

“And what kind of bird is that?” Sinia asked Gannon, nodding toward the white-breasted birds running back and forth along the shore.

“Plovers,” Gannon said excitedly. “Look, Mama! Pelicans! Five of them! That one is going to dive. Look! It did!”

“Yes, it did,” Sinia said, her pleasure at his enthusiasm evident in her tone. “They must catch a lot of fish with those big beaks.”