Tesara felt another pang, this time of jealousy, then thought, how foolish. She disliked Amos Kerrill, and the Kerrills had been avidly anti-Mederos. That was one salon she would not be invited to. Despite all that, it felt dreadful to be left out.
“How is Amos?” she asked, picking up her own stone, and lobbing it after Jone’s. Mirandine gave them a sidelong glance, but said nothing.
“Do you remember when he was twelve? A bully and a coward?”
She nodded. How could either of them forget Elenor Sansieri’s birthday party? Amos had been the ringleader bullying all the children, especially Elenor’s little brother, Marley. Tesara and Jone had stood up for Marley, Tesara ready to use her powers on Amos if she had to.
“Hasn’t changed.”
“So why–” It was puzzling. Why did Jone have to continue liking Amos? She felt the same confusion she felt when they were children – the same confusion and sense of betrayal.
He gave another grimace. “It’s complicated. I don’t know how to explain.”
“It’s all right,” Tesara said stoutly. She squeezed his hand. “Believe me, I understand complicated.”
He laughed and his plain face transformed into a handsome one. What a difference a smile could make, she thought. He squeezed her hand back and then didn’t let it go right away. She liked the feel of it.
“Look!” Mirandine ran forward and picked up something glinting on the brown sand at the edge of the foamy wave. She held it up. “Sea glass!”
They clustered around. The piece of glass had been worn down by the waves and the sand, and it glowed pearlescent in the bright sunshine. “I wonder what it was.” She tipped it into Tesara’s palm, and she caressed it with her thumbs, then held it up to the air. With a start, she saw the faint etching of a large M still visible, though the glass had been worn by the sea and by time.
“A lamp glass from the captain’s quarters,” Tesara said, barely breathing. The Main Chance, the flagship of the Mederos fleet, had lamps etched with the family sigil, an M circled with a complicated square sailor’s knot. How strange that a piece of the ship had come back to her in this way. It gleamed reproachfully at her. Avenge me.
I destroyed you.
Silence.
“Tesara?” Mirandine said. “Are you all right?”
“We should go. The tide’s coming in.”
She made to turn around and go back to the boardwalk. She knew her tone was sharp, but she couldn’t help it. She struck off, not waiting for them.
They were the last people on the strand, and the tide was already licking at the pilings of the nearest dock, jammed haphazardly into the heaps of sea-racked rock on shore. Jone’s long legs carried him swiftly and it was hard to keep up. Mirandine strode along with her skirts lifted almost to her knees, striding like a man. The girls’ skirts and petticoats were deep in mud and sand. Tesara wrinkled her nose at the thought of how much blotting and brushing was in store for her.
And I have better uses for my hands.
A few weeks ago, she would have thought of the sea glass as a warning as from a lighthouse: Stay away. Rocks ahead. And a few weeks ago, she would have been terrified of going down this path of sure destruction. But not now, she thought. Not when she was close to discovering how to gain control over her mischievous fingers. The lighthouse warned of dangerous shoals but it also beckoned.
You’re almost home.
Chapter Forty-Four
It was a rare clear night over Port Saint Frey. In the attic at the top of the TreMondi townhouse, Yvienne delicately adjusted the lenses of the fine telescope owned by Mr TreMondi, while the children waited with barely concealed excitement. The lenses were from Qin and were very expensive; Mr TreMondi had told her that several times, including admonitions to not let the children touch them. Only when she had made knowledgeable observations about lenses, telescopes, and astronomy did he relax. She didn’t tell Mr TreMondi that his telescope, while quite good, was not as good as the one she had as a child. She suspected he would not take it well.
Satisfied, Yvienne stepped back. “Ready,” she said. “We’ll go oldest first. Maje.”
“Good,” Idina said, having clearly taken in her father’s stern remarks about touching the telescope. “I’m sure I’ll break it. I don’t even want to touch it.”
The girl stepped up, put her eye to the eyepiece, and gasped in delight at the view of the heavens spread before her.
“What is it, Miss Mederos? Why, it has rings! Lovely rings!”
“I want to see!” Dubre demanded. “Let me see! You’re hogging it!”
“Patience, Dubbi,” Yvienne told him. “Saturnus will be there for you.” She began her lecture.
Hours later, when the children’s interest in the majesty of the heavens had flagged and the excitement of being allowed to stay up so late past their bedtime had waned, Yvienne and their nurse put them to bed. Nurse showed her to her room for the night and she sat down on the bed in the small, cramped room off the children’s wing, grateful to be alone albeit in a musty nook in the attic. The TreMondis had agreed to put her up after the astronomy lesson. When told, Alinesse had been irked at what she felt was an overreach on the TreMondis’ part. Brevart simply said he could not like it, that she did not sleep under her own roof. Samwell, on the other hand, was delighted – “This is your chance, Vivi. Talk to TreMondi. Remind him of the Mederos reputation for business acumen.”
While it had been a delight to have her hands on a telescope again, Yvienne’s true goal had been to get her parents used to her being out of the house at night. She would have more freedom on those nights. Instead of having to get back and into bed before Tesara came home from a
