Noa didn’t reply. There were ghosts in the tower—that was the problem. None of them had tried to grab her (yet); they just hung around at the edges of her sight in a woebegone sort of way, as if they really were dogs that were used to being ignored. If she turned her head quickly enough, she could sometimes glimpse a pallid face or a tendril arm, but as soon as she did, the ghost would fade into the shadows. Why was Julian’s tower the only place she saw ghosts?
She wondered if the otters had started looking for Mom yet. She’d been trying not to wonder that all day, because she didn’t want to hope. The otter had said ghosts didn’t linger, but clearly, some ghosts did.
What if Mom was one of them?
The table was set for dinner—the servants had come and gone some time ago, and the food was rapidly getting cold, but Julian hadn’t arrived yet. Noa thought it was probably going to be one of those nights where Julian didn’t come to dinner at all, and she and Mite ended up eating by themselves, sending a full plate back to the kitchen for the servants to heat up again whenever Julian was ready for it.
Noa was just opening her mouth to tell Mite that they should probably start eating when Julian strode in, bringing half the storm with him. He was sopping wet, his hair plastered to his head. He paused on the threshold and sneezed three times.
“Well, the island’s battened down,” he said, removing his boots and setting them by the lavaplace, where they began to hiss. “Kell thinks the storm’s heading south, so we’re going to wait it out until it passes rather than moving with it. Not now, Miss Claudia,” he said to the cat trying to rub up against him. He padded up to his loft, sending a small waterfall cascading down the stairs as he went, which effectively discouraged the cats from following. When he came back down, he had changed into dry clothes, and his towel-dried hair was sticking out every which way.
“You should have eaten,” he said, flopping down in a chair. Reckoner, having woken at the sound of his voice, happily fell over on top of his feet.
“You said you’d be here,” Noa said.
There was a knock at the door, and one of the kitchen servants came in. “Hello, Marsha,” Julian said, tossing her a dazzling smile, the wattage only slightly dimmed by his dampness.
The woman curtsied, blushing furiously. The servants loved Julian—he was far kinder to them than he was to his mages, and he spoiled them, paying them twice what even the palace servants in Florean made and ignoring any bad behavior on their part. He had once commented when the head cook had caught one of the maids stealing silverware that anyone who thought they needed to steal something as meager as forks and spoons should be allowed to keep them. “Just came to see if you’d be needing anything else, Your Highness,” Marsha said.
“No, thank you,” Julian said, even as Noa opened her mouth to ask for the soup to be warmed up. “Everything looks delicious.”
Noa sighed. “Can the sentries see at all in this weather?”
“As well as can be expected. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“There’s a surprise,” Noa muttered. She didn’t like herself when she was this snappish, but her stomach was growling and the cats had stolen her blanket again, and it was impossible to be pleasant when you were cold and hungry. Besides, she wanted to be angry at Julian for almost forgetting about dinner again, especially after he’d promised they would talk.
Julian sighed. “Noabell, I’m not in the mood to argue. If you have any suggestions for turning night into day, or fog into moonlight, I’m all ears.”
He sneezed again, and Noa relented. She helped herself to smoked salmon and sea broccoli, then passed the plate to Julian. “Did you put any sentries up on the Nose?”
“Yes. It’s all taken care of.” He set down his cup and gave her a meaningful look. “I believe we have something else to discuss. That is, you sneaking off this morning and putting your life in danger.”
“I don’t remember any sneaking,” Noa said. “I remember a daring undercover mission to the palace.” She folded her arms. If Julian thought he was going to lecture her now, he had another think coming.
He rolled his eyes theatrically. “I know that look. All right, we’ll take that point up another time, when you’re not in a mood.”
“I’m always in a mood. So is everybody. No one is ever not in a mood.”
“When you’re in a different mood, less like Reckoner’s when I try to give him a bath. Now, what is it that you overheard? Apart from what you told me earlier?”
Noa swallowed a mouthful of cassava soup. A ghost hovered at the edge of her vision, but she ignored it this time. She opened the Chronicle to the notes she had taken while eavesdropping in the palace. “Xavier has been executing nobles who he thinks are loyal to you. At least, people think they’ve been executed—mostly it’s just a bunch of mysterious disappearances.”
Julian’s spoon froze on its way to his mouth. He set it down. “Which nobles?”
Noa consulted her notes and read him the names she had heard. There were more than ten of them. When she was done, Julian’s eyebrows were drawn so close together, they were almost touching.
“I know most of those names. They’re all nobles who were part of Mother’s court.” He let out his breath. “It sounds like we may have more supporters in Florean City than I thought. Xavier hasn’t convinced them all that Mother was a monster, and me a worse one.”
“We don’t have supporters if the king kills them all,” Noa pointed out. “Although some people think a few of them ran off before Xavier could get to them.”
Julian clicked his rings together. “Whether
