“This is dumb,” Mite announced. She had met Noa on her way to the village, having been watching her from Julian’s tower. Noa should have known Mite would never pass up a visit to the bakery—her mouth was already smeared with sugar from the cookies Tomas’s father had plied her with. They were in the kitchen behind the shop, which was clean and cozy, with a clay floor and the black mouth of an oven taking up the entire back wall. It smelled faintly of octopus pie.
Noa ignored her sister. “Well?” she said to Tomas.
He shrugged. He brushed his hair off his forehead, streaking his dark skin with flour. Tomas was usually covered in flour. Only twelve, he’d decided that he was going to be a baker when he grew up, just like his father. He loved cookies and pies and bread so much that Noa suspected he might have flour in his veins, too. “I’ll try cutting it up, I guess. See if there’s anything strange about it. If not, well, it’ll make a nice tart, or a mousse with some lime and chili pepper . . .” Noa folded her arms, and he stopped talking and went to fetch a knife.
Mite let out a long sigh. Noa ignored that, too. She hadn’t spoken a word to Mite since leaving Julian’s tower.
Tomas peeled the mango and cut it into small pieces, and nothing strange happened. It looked and smelled like an ordinary mango, and in spite of herself, Noa’s mouth watered.
“Now what?” he asked.
Noa bit her lip. If the mango was enchanted, there should be some sort of flaw to it—an odd smell, perhaps, or a texture like sawdust. But she noticed nothing.
“Try cooking it, I guess,” she said. “Maybe the magic will leach out.”
Tomas’s face brightened. “Good idea! Have you tried my dad’s recipe for fried mango? Pairs beautifully with a nice sourdough.”
He tossed the pit into the corner of the kitchen. A white cat winked into view and snatched it up.
“That’s just Ghost,” Tomas said. “Don’t mind him—he eats everything. Here we go.” Humming, he lit the stove and plopped the mango into a frying pan with a generous pat of butter. “It’s not going to explode, is it?”
Noa sighed, sinking onto a chair. She felt stupid. Maybe Julian had been right not to trust her instincts. Maybe she was just a little girl with an overactive imagination.
“It’s probably not going to do anything,” she said. “I think I’m wasting your time.”
“That’s all right.” Tomas took up a rag and wiped his hands, only succeeding in smearing more flour on them. “If Julian wants me to cut up—er, dissect—an orchard of mangoes, I’d be happy to help.”
Noa winced. Tomas had an enormous crush on Julian, and while she hadn’t said this was her brother’s idea, she also hadn’t said it wasn’t.
“The truth is,” Noa began, “when I said the island might be in danger—well, Julian doesn’t actually agree.”
Tomas nodded. Sweet-smelling steam was rising off the pan. “That makes sense. I mean, even if the king’s navy is lurking on the other side of that island, Julian could take them. I wouldn’t want to watch that.” He shuddered, then darted a glance at Noa. “I don’t mean that I’m afraid of him. But he’s so powerful. And clever. And—”
“Please don’t go on,” Noa interrupted. She would rather cut off her own ears than listen to another person gush over how handsome or special or charming Julian was. For some reason, they all seemed to think this was something Noa would want to hear, or perhaps some thought she could put in a good word for them. She never did, of course—given how catastrophically Julian’s last romance had ended, she hoped he never kissed anyone again. Also, it was gross.
“I guess we’ll just go home,” Noa said. She headed for the door, but an odd clattering sound froze her in place. One of the heavy trays of bread had overturned, and the loaves lay strewn across the floor.
“Oh no,” Tomas moaned. “Dad’s going to kill me.”
Noa bent to help him gather them up. Mite screamed.
Noa whirled. An ugly row of red cuts bloomed on Mite’s leg. Before her crouched Ghost—or something that looked like Ghost. The cat’s eyes were all white, and his mouth seemed to have widened and grown extra teeth. As Noa watched in horror, Ghost’s hiss deepened into a guttural, unnatural roar. Mite scrambled to get out of the way, but before she could reach Noa’s side, the cat lunged.
4
Julian Almost Destroys the Island
Noa seized the nearest large object—a mound of bread dough proofing on the table—and hurled it at the cat. It connected with a wet thump, and the cat toppled over, while the dough fell to the floor with the imprint of a cat’s surprised face in it.
“Oh,” Tomas breathed, but he wasn’t looking at the cat. The pan of mango was emitting a rust-colored steam, which gave off a foul smell. Tomas extinguished the stove and tossed the pot, mango and all, into a sink filled with water. More steam erupted, but now it was clear.
Noa, Mite, and Tomas stared at each other.
“Ghost,” Tomas murmured, kneeling at the cat’s side. Unconscious, he looked like an ordinary cat again, but Tomas didn’t protest when Noa picked him up by the scruff and shut him in a closet.
“I have to get back to the castle,” she said. “I have to warn Julian. He’ll know how to undo the spell cast on those mangoes—whatever it was, it’s definitely dangerous. Tomas, you stay here and look after Mite. Have your father close the shop, and don’t let anyone in. By now, who knows how many people the soldiers have given mangoes to.”
“I’m not staying here,” Mite said, indignant. Noa opened her mouth to argue, but there came a series of shouts in the street outside the bakery,
