“I’m the eldest,” Julian said, as if that explained everything. “Besides, I would have done it anyway.” He sighed. “Only I’m afraid I haven’t been doing such a wonderful job of looking after either of you these last few months.”
“That’s not true!” Noa said passionately. “I shouldn’t have said those things before. You were right about that ghost. I should have listened to you. I’m sorry, Julian—”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” He let out a long breath. “You said you don’t know who I am. Well, sometimes I don’t, either.”
He looked so pale that Noa hugged him again. Mite was frowning. “I know who you are, Julian,” she said.
Julian smiled. “All right, Maita. If I ever need a reminder, I’ll ask you. Deal?”
Mite nodded. “Deal.”
Julian took Noa’s hand. “I’m sorry I don’t listen to your advice as often as I should. I really did put you on the council because you belong there, Noa. You must know how clever your ideas are.”
Noa puffed out a bit. She did know, of course, but it was nice to hear someone say it.
“And I’m sorry you two had to sit next to Matty at dinner. He’s a truly dreadful boy.”
Noa giggled.
“I knew that!” Mite said, shaking her head.
“He kept the servants up half the night, running back and forth to fetch salves and cookies and who knows what else. Claiming the whole while that he was probably poisoned. If his father wasn’t my most important ally, I’d send Matty back to Sevrilla right now. Or make him spend an hour in Mite’s closet, maybe.”
“No!” Mite looked aghast. “He’d step on the crickets.”
Julian turned back to Noa. “If I understood you correctly, you found another magical language.”
“Yes,” Noa said, swallowing. “Then I lost it.”
Noa told them the whole tale, though it hurt. The hope she had felt when she saw Mom was still there, but now it was a broken, jagged thing that she didn’t like to think about. When she thought of Esmalda, she felt an anger so bottomless, it scared her.
“What are you going to do about Esmalda?” Noa asked.
“I’ve already done enough where she’s concerned.” Julian’s face was drawn in a way Noa had never seen before. “This is my fault. I’m sorry.”
Noa couldn’t tell if he was apologizing to her or wishing he could take back what he’d done. What had happened wasn’t all his fault, but some of it was, so she didn’t argue; she just hugged him. His cloak smelled of seawater and smoke, probably from some experiment he’d been working on. She wished she could stay tucked in his arms forever and not have to face whatever was coming their way. But at least Julian wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was Mite. They would face it together, like they always had.
“I always knew Esmalda resented Mom,” Julian said. “I shouldn’t have put her on my council. I knew she would do anything for power, and that she was completely ruthless toward anyone who wronged her.” His gaze was distant, and Noa thought she could guess what he was thinking.
“You’re not like her,” she said.
“No?” He gave her a tired smile.
“Well . . . sometimes you are,” Noa said slowly. She remembered something. “Gabriela said that Mom destroyed her village when she was little. Did you know that?”
Julian’s face was blank with surprise. “No—she never told me.”
“It doesn’t sound like Mom.”
Julian sighed. “Mom faced a few rebellions during her reign. All kings and queens do, because it’s impossible to get everyone on your side, and sometimes things go wrong that aren’t your fault. Harvests fail. Sea serpents prey on your harbors. Mom dealt with more rebellions because she was a dark mage and people distrusted her. I’m not saying what she did was right. But it was what all the other kings and queens of Florean have done. In fact, many of them did worse than burn villages.”
“Gabriela also said she doesn’t believe in heroes,” Noa said. “She said that you and Xavier and Mom are all monsters, and the best anyone can do is side with the least monstrous monster.”
“I don’t know what to say to that,” Julian said, “speaking as a monster. But I think Gabriela does believe in heroes—after all, she sees herself as one. Maybe she’s wrong about the rest of it, too.” He rubbed his eyes. “Sometimes, when everything seems to be going wrong like this, I wonder what Mom would have done. She always seemed to know what she was doing, no matter how bad things got.”
“Maybe you don’t have to do what Mom would have done,” Noa said. “Maybe you can do better than her. Better than all of them.”
Julian didn’t reply. He looked pale and young, not like the Dark Lord at all, or even a prince, but a boy recently turned eighteen who didn’t know what lay ahead of him.
Noa glanced up the beach. The crowd hadn’t dispersed, but was simply watching them from afar. Some of the mages seemed to be pretending to patrol the beach while sneaking glances at the Marchenas.
“What are we going to do?” Noa said. “Esmalda will give that book to the king’s mages. What if one of them can speak this fear language? They’re only a few miles away.”
“They don’t know we’re right under their noses,” Julian said. “That buys us some time. Can I see that page?”
Noa pulled it from her pocket and handed it to him. It was perfectly dry. Julian unfolded it, his brow creasing. Mite and Noa crowded around him. It seemed to be some sort of title page, for the writing was large and spaced out. That was all Noa could deduce, though. The words careened around the page like dancing ants. She couldn’t read one letter.
She watched Julian, holding her breath. After a moment, though, he sighed.
“Nope,” he said. “Well, this whole quest has been rather humbling. Just last month, I was the only mage in history who
