Just my luck, a distant part of her thought. I’m going to die escaping from Death.
She laughed. Once she started, she wasn’t able to stop. She was still laughing—and coughing, because by that time she’d breathed in a certain amount of seawater—when a strong arm hooked under hers and pulled her toward the shore. Noa supposed that a sailor must have seen her from the beach and swum out to save her. It was dawn, and the sky was full of pinky-purple clouds. As they drew near the island, Noa heard shouts and applause. Great—that was just what she wanted right now, an audience. Her laughter had died away to noisy, embarrassing hiccups, and she thought she might also be crying. It was hard to tell. Before, Noa had felt as if she had been hollowed out, but now she felt as if she had been hollowed out and then filled up again with small, sharp things, like thumbtacks and crab claws.
Once he reached the shallows, the sailor tossed her over his shoulder and carried her to the dry sand. As soon as he put her down, a wrinkled snout tipped with cold nostrils pressed against her face, snuffling. Its breath was an odd combination of campfires and tuna. Reckoner! Was he her rescuer? But he didn’t have hands. For a moment, Noa thought she was going to start laughing again at the image of the dragon heroically dragging her back to shore, but then a familiar voice said, “Get off her, you smoky old lump,” and Reckoner’s face was replaced with Julian’s. He was dripping wet, his shoes were gone, and his face was very pale.
Noa burst into tears.
Julian pulled her to his chest, murmuring soothing words. “Black seas, Noa, you’re freezing. Everyone, move back. Give her some space.”
“I was underwater,” Noa said. “That’s why I’m cold. It was deep, deep underwater, and there was a whale. . . . Mom told me to swim to an ingrown island, but it wasn’t Mom after all, it was Esmalda. She made me give her the language of fear, and I’m sorry, Julian, I thought it was Mom, but she lied. . . . She wanted to hurt you. . . . I’m sorry. . . .”
She wasn’t sure how much of this Julian understood—the words kept mushing together with her sobs. She was dimly aware that they were surrounded by a circle of staring faces, mages and sailors and villagers, but they all moved away quickly after Julian cast a black look in their direction. He stroked her hair until she had no tears left, which took a while.
“What’s wrong with Noa?” said a hushed voice. Mite’s face popped into view behind his shoulder. “Did the ghosts attack her?”
“Mite, go back to the castle,” Julian said, pushing a hand distractedly through his sodden hair. “The servants will get you some breakfast.”
Mite’s small face slowly got redder and redder. Then, out of nowhere, she yelled, “No!”
Julian turned back to her, astonished. “Mite—”
“I don’t want breakfast!” Mite yelled. “I don’t want to go back to the castle! Why do you keep telling me to go away? You can’t make me! I’m staying right here!” She began to cry.
“Maita, Maita, it’s okay.” Julian looked from Noa to Mite, trying to figure out which sister was more in need of comforting. Since Noa was not currently crying, he gathered Mite into his arms. “You can stay. I just thought you might be hungry—”
“I’m not hungry!” Mite yelled through her tears. Noa didn’t think she’d ever heard Mite make so much noise, except when she exploded. Julian gave Noa a help me look.
“It’s my fault,” Noa said glumly. “I told her to go away. Mite, I’m sorry. I didn’t really want you to go away.”
Mite glared through her tears. “Yes, you did. You always do!” She buried her face in Julian’s shoulder.
“No, I don’t,” Noa promised. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, which was already a little slimy. “I want to be alone sometimes, but that’s not the same as not wanting you around. Last night I just wanted to see Mom again.”
Mite lifted her head. “You saw Momma?”
Noa would have cried again if she had any tears left. “No. You were right, Julian. M-Mom didn’t come back to see me. I just thought she would miss us . . .”
“Noabell.” Julian tilted her chin up. “I know that Mom’s thinking about us, wherever she is, just like we’re thinking about her. So is Dad, though I know neither of you remember him much.”
Noa sniffed. “I remember some things. He wore glasses that were always falling down his nose. And his beard was scratchy when he kissed me.”
Julian laughed. Then, to Noa’s astonishment, he began to cry.
Mite looked from Julian to Noa, clearly astonished, too. Noa hadn’t seen Julian cry in years. Mite wrapped her arms around his neck, and Noa wrapped hers around his chest, which probably made it hard for him to breathe, but he didn’t complain. After a moment, he pulled away, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.
“Do you miss Papa more than Momma?” Mite said, her eyes wide and serious.
Julian smiled faintly. “I miss them both.”
Noa wondered why she had never thought about the fact that Julian was the only one of the three of them who could remember both their parents’ deaths. Noa remembered some things about their father, but the only memories she had of his death were a room full of people talking in hushed voices and Mom’s face crumpling once when she thought Noa wasn’t looking. The memories of their mother’s death hurt bad enough that it was hard to imagine having to carry around ones of their father’s death, too.
Julian blew his nose on a handkerchief. He pulled out a second one and used it to clean up Mite’s face. Then he turned back to Noa. “Noa, part of the reason why Mom wouldn’t have lingered in Death is because she knew I was looking after you two. She made me promise that I’d take good care of you.”
Noa thought
