Julian turned his gaze back to the sentries, and Noa sidled closer to listen. “How many this month?” he said.
“Four, we think,” the man replied. “It’s hard to know for sure. Our spies tell us there’s a chance they’ve gone into hiding.”
Noa knew immediately what they were discussing. It was widely rumored that King Xavier had begun quietly executing known dark magicians throughout Florean, and anyone who protected them—even if they’d never so much as looked at anybody sideways, let alone gained a reputation for wickedness.
“One of them was only thirteen,” the man added quietly. “Her family’s vanished, too.”
Noa’s heart gave an unsteady thump-thud. Julian’s hand briefly clenched the arm of his chair. He seemed to remember Noa was there, and turned to her with raised eyebrows. “I was expecting Renne, but I’m guessing he sent you instead, the coward.”
“He was probably worried you’d feed him to Beauty after that tantrum you threw on the beach,” she said. The sentries gave the sort of chuckle you do when you hope someone is joking.
Julian smiled and waved the sentries out. “I can hear a lecture coming. Deserved, though—this whole thing is my fault. I shouldn’t have ordered Kell to go that fast. I suppose I was a little excited after we conquered Gray Sisters—”
“About ‘this whole thing,’” Noa said before Julian could get going. He was nearly impossible to keep on track—his mind flitted from one thing to another like a sparrow. “Don’t you think it’s odd that a captain as experienced as Kell would run into an island?”
“Not really. It’s been foggy this morning.”
“An island that isn’t on the maps,” Noa added.
Julian frowned at that, then shrugged. “The Untold Sea is poorly mapped. Pirates don’t take kindly to cartographers poking around their hideouts with notebooks and spyglasses.”
Noa forced herself to count to five. “Fine. What were those men doing out here in the middle of nowhere? Why are we so sure they were fishermen?”
“The nets and traps were a bit of a clue.” Julian barely looked up from the spell he had been perusing. The calico hopped onto the grimoire. “No, darling, get down.” The cat ignored him and folded herself into a passive-aggressive loaf.
“We need to get the island moving again,” Noa said emphatically. “Can’t you do it?”
Julian took up a different grimoire. “Renne and the others will have us underway in a few hours. Certainly I could do it myself, but it’s a big spell, and I’d use up a lot of magic. Magic I’ll need to conquer Thirial Island—which I thought we agreed was the priority?”
Noa stewed—it was hard to argue against yourself. Julian had a lot of magic, but like all magicians, big spells drained him.
“What if this is an emergency?” Noa said. “What if we’re in danger?”
“From what, precisely?”
“I don’t know,” Noa said, frustrated. Why couldn’t Julian just trust her? “But I have a feeling.”
Julian was only half listening. His dark brows were knitted as he bent over the grimoire. Noa imagined the book snapping at his nose like a turtle.
She said sternly, “A one-eyed pirate feeling.”
Julian’s head lifted at that. One-eyed pirate meant something Noa didn’t remember, but Julian did. When Noa was a baby, their father, the king, had taken the two of them on a trip to the newly conquered Severo Islands. They had anchored offshore and waited for a boat to come get them, as the harbor was too small for their ship. That boat had been captained by the former ruler of the Severos, a weather-beaten pirate. At the sight of him, Noa had begun crying so loud that even the gulls fled, pounding her tiny fists against her father’s chest when he tried to board the boat. The king had laughingly sent the boat back, and they circled the island until they found a bay. They discovered later that the pirate—an accomplished swimmer—had planned to sink the boat far from shore and leave the king, his advisors, and his two children to drown. Julian was still convinced that Noa had sensed the man was a traitor. For her part, Noa doubted it. She knew from having survived Mite’s toddler years that small children often went looking for things to make a fuss about.
“Okay, Noa,” Julian said. “Bring me some evidence that the island is in danger, and I’ll get us moving. Something more than a gaggle of lost fishermen.”
Noa tried to think of another argument. At that moment, though, Reckoner ambled into the room and flopped down at Julian’s feet, immediately occupying all her brother’s attention as he bent to scratch Reckoner’s chin and assure him that he was a good dragon. She turned and pointedly stomped to the door. “Take Mite with you,” Julian called, to her dismay. “I need to concentrate on this spell.”
Noa thought fast. “Isn’t she overdue for a magic lesson?”
“We’ll have time for that tomorrow. She made progress last time.”
“You mean she stopped blowing things up?” Noa said cruelly, because she was mad at them both now.
Mite’s jaw fell open, revealing a mouthful of green pancake. “I haven’t blown anything up in ages!”
“Of course. The playroom windows must have smashed themselves.”
“I don’t care what you say.” Mite’s face was flushed, her gaze hard. “You can’t even do magic.”
Noa stopped in her tracks. Her anger turned cold, as if her chest had filled with ice. How dare Mite bring that into it? Did she have any idea what it was like to be the sister of the most powerful magician in Florean, and incapable of casting the simplest spell?
No, of course Mite didn’t understand. Because she could do magic.
“Mite,” Julian admonished. The little girl stared down at her plate. He turned
