“Fascinating questions,” Beauty said. “Forgive the presumption, but could I offer my help in investigating this mystery? I would be happy to circle the island to see if it’s harboring any secrets.”
“Somehow I don’t think Julian would allow that,” Noa said coldly. Beauty was magically bound to Astrae—she couldn’t travel more than a mile from its shores. Sending her to explore the mysterious island would mean lifting the spell that kept her on a leash—a spell that also prevented her from devouring every living thing on Astrae that came within reach of her jaws. She didn’t serve Julian by choice—he had bound her last summer, as punishment for eating three of his sailors. Noa had little doubt that the wily creature spent her every waking moment plotting her escape.
“Dear Julian,” the serpent purred. “He does like to keep me close. Thank you for the reminder.”
Noa held her black gaze. “You’re welcome.”
“Take care, dear.” Beauty slid back into the waves. “Mind the stairs. They can be slippery.”
Shaking her head, Noa climbed the last few steps to the castle. She wished that Julian would send Beauty away, but as he always pointed out, she was the best defense Astrae had. Half the sailors in Xavier’s navy would sooner desert than face her. Noa couldn’t blame them.
The castle was really more of a ruin, the remnants of a fort built centuries ago by some unknown lord. Julian had patched it up with magic, but it was still a sorry sight, even with his black flag flying from every battlement. Julian’s flag had a dragon on it and the family motto, Marchenas Are Always First. It sounded dreadfully snobby, and the ancient Marchena kings and queens had probably meant it that way, but Noa’s mother had said that, to her, it meant that a Marchena always puts their family first, not that they were better than anyone.
As she reached the front door, she tripped over a cat. She knew it was a cat because it was invisible, and because there was another cat watching with a satisfied look on its face.
Noa picked herself up, muttering. She wasn’t the only one who wished Julian hadn’t given the semi-feral cats who roamed Astrae the ability to vanish at will. This was, of course, every cat’s fantasy, and they spent most of their time that wasn’t occupied with killing defenseless birds in getting underfoot. Julian claimed he had been testing a vanishing spell, though Noa suspected he had done it to spoil them. Julian was the world’s biggest cat lover, after Mom. The cats knew this and took advantage of his indulgence as only cats could.
A scruffy tabby with a torn ear hissed as she passed. “Nice to see you, too,” Noa said. “You know, in the South Sea, stewed cat is considered a delicacy.”
She found Julian in his tower. To Noa’s disappointment, Mite was there, too, happily helping herself to the food piled on the table: oysters, tomato salad, and seaweed pancakes. Mite glowered at Noa, then looked down at her plate, which Noa guessed meant she hadn’t complained to Julian about Noa’s trick. That was one point in Mite’s favor, Noa had to acknowledge—she wasn’t a tattletale.
Julian’s tower room was large and open, the size of several rooms stuck together, which was how he treated it. A huge desk sat in the middle of the space, piled high with maps and sea charts, where Julian met with Captain Kell and her first mate to figure out Astrae’s course. Against one wall was the fireplace, more accurately called the lavaplace, for it held an enchanted cauldron filled with bubbling lava that gave off a nice, even heat without all the smoke of a normal fire. And scattered everywhere were books and mysterious buckets full of dirt or coins or seawater—among other things—that Julian used to practice his spellwork. A flight of spiraling stairs led up to a loft where he slept. The round wall was lined with windows, giving an impressive view of the sea and the lay of the island in all directions. Noa could see the magicians down on the beach, and the lurking darkness beneath the water that was Beauty.
“There you are, Noabell,” Julian said. “Off plotting and scheming, were you? You have that look.”
Noa glowered at the nickname. A noabell was a tiny purple flower that grew in the cracks of dried lava. They were as close to ugly as flowers could get, scraggly and easy to miss if you weren’t looking for them, and she used to resent the comparison. But Mom had said once that noabells were tough and grew where nothing else would, so Noa supposed it was a tolerable nickname if you viewed it from that angle.
Julian’s chin was propped on one hand in a bored posture, which probably had something to do with the group of sentries standing before him, who must have been in the middle of giving a report. There was a calico curled up in his lap, and he seemed to be in a more cheerful mood, which was lucky for the sentries. One of them, a green-eyed girl about his age, was gazing at Julian in a familiar way. Noa smothered an eye roll.
Julian had grown taller in their two years on Astrae, though he was still too skinny to cut a naturally imposing figure. Yet there had always been something in his posture or the weight of his gaze that said royalty, even when he was demonstrating a party trick involving dancing napkins or wearing a particularly silly court hairstyle. Noa had often wished she could work out what this was so she could imitate it. As usual, he was all in black from his cloak to his boots to his flashing rings. Mom had worn black, too, which made her look intimidating, though that hadn’t actually been the point. While a powerful magician, their mother was horribly clumsy, prone to spilling drinks
