They ran. Noa led them toward the castle. Though she might have seemed confident before, Noa was worried about Julian. It was entirely possible that he was engrossed in spellwork in his tower, oblivious to the chaos unfolding below. If so, and the corrupted mages took him by surprise—
Noa swallowed. She couldn’t let herself think like that. Julian would be fine. He’d found a way to slither out of King Xavier’s schemes to capture him in the past. He’d slither out of this, too.
The three of them dodged around an unconscious mage lying motionless on the beach, the waves licking his feet. On the basalt shelf that jutted out into the sea below the castle, a corrupted mage was confronted by three other mages who seemed to be trying to force her into the sea. Despite their numbers, the uncorrupted mages seemed to be losing. The corrupted mage kept rearranging the stone beneath their feet. As Noa watched, one of them stumbled and fell into the surging water.
Noa, Mite, and Tomas thundered up the winding stair to the castle. Waves crashed against the cliffside, spraying them. Then Noa spotted a familiar black eye winking at her amid the froth.
“Beauty!” she shouted. “The island is under attack!”
“Is it?” The sea serpent lifted her head above the waves. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Noa dashed the seawater from her eyes. “You have to do something! You’re bigger than the king’s warships—could you coil around them, or—”
“Oh my.” The serpent cocked her head. “You want me to attack the royal fleet? Really, dear, what sort of lady do you think I am?”
“The sort of lady who swamped one of our fishing boats and swallowed the sailors whole,” Noa snapped. “Not to mention all those other ships that went missing in your old hunting grounds. Do you think I’m going to believe someone else was responsible?”
“I think,” Beauty said, “that you’re the wrong Marchena. You see, only your dear brother can command me. Alas, I don’t see him anywhere.”
Noa stared. “But you’re supposed to protect Astrae! That’s—that’s the whole point of you!”
“The point of me.” An uncharacteristically sharp note entered the serpent’s elegant voice. “I see. I have endured for over five hundred years, tasted the waters of all thirteen seas, seen the births and deaths of dozens of silly kings and queens who all, at one point or another, sought to destroy me, and will be alive to watch dozens more rise and fall, but now I understand that my entire existence can be reduced to my present servitude at the whims of the Marchenas.”
“I’m sorry,” Noa said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean—”
“Apology accepted, of course,” Beauty said in her usual purr. “Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .”
“But you can’t go!” Mite cried at her retreating head. “The king wants to kill Julian!”
“Oh, I won’t go far, little Marchena.” Beauty’s black eyes gleamed. “I don’t intend to miss a moment of this.”
Noa grabbed Mite’s hand just in time, as Beauty slipped below the waves and slammed her tail against the staircase with an echoing crash. The stone shook, and Mite almost fell into the sea.
“Forget about her,” Noa said grimly. She, Mite, and Tomas reached the top of the stair and flung back the half-open castle doors.
The castle foyer was a grand space, tiled with basalt and studded with obsidian tesserae that made the floor gleam like the night sky. Julian had ordered the cracked and faded walls repainted with bright frescoes—portraits of their royal ancestors; flamingos mincing across shell-strewn sand; killer whales charging through watery depths laced with sunbeams. Upon the huge staircase that anchored the foyer, Julian was in the middle of a battle.
“Duck!” Noa shrieked. She knocked Tomas to the ground just in time—Mite was smart enough to drop right away—and a magician went sailing over their heads, his cloak tangled around his face, out through the doors they had left open. Julian spoke another incantation, and another mage was blasted backward, her all-white eyes wide with fury. She landed in a heap at their feet, and Noa pressed Mite behind her. Julian called out a twisty incantation that reverberated through the hall, and before the corrupted mage could rise, roots made of basalt rose out of the floor and wrapped around her.
Julian’s hair was disheveled, as it often was when he worked on his spells, and his black cloak was inside out, as if he’d hastily pulled it on. With a slash of his arm and a word, he summoned a wave of water from the fountain splashing in the foyer and swept two more magicians out the door. There were still four left, but they hesitated on the landing, watching Julian like wary animals, still grinning their horrible grins. Julian descended toward them, a storm in his eyes.
“Don’t hurt them!” Noa shouted. “They’re not traitors, they’re poisoned!”
Julian broke off whatever incantation he had been casting. With a sharp glance at Noa, he let out a stream of words that sounded to her like wind hissing through a tiny crack. The magicians were lifted into the air—no more than a foot—and drifted back down the stairs. They writhed about and bellowed vicious curses, but it did little good; they were like feathers caught in the breeze, unable to alter their course. Once they were out of Julian’s way, he left them hovering just above the ground, thrashing uselessly.
“You have to gag them,” Noa said. “They can still use their magic.”
Julian spat out a command in Marrow, the language of blood, and the magicians fell silent, though their mouths still moved. He had taken their voices.
Julian knelt before Noa and Mite and swept them into his arms. “Are you all right?” He leaned back and examined them, murmuring a word that healed the cat scratches on Mite’s leg. She buried her head in his shoulder and let out an uncharacteristic sob.
For
